A Little Night Landsbury

I will never say anything against Angela Landsbury. One of my clearest memories of my grandmother, who died when I was in fifth grade, is of us watching Murder, She Wrote together. I wasn't even aware of Landsbury's stage work until college (my parents are non-theatregoing scientists, what do you want from me) and I'm lukewarm about her performance in Sweeney Todd (sorry guys), but I completely respect her as an actress and don't begrudge her any of her well-earned awards and acclaim. But seriously...why is she in the Little Night Music revival? I saw her in Deuce and heard firsthand accounts of her in Blithe Spirit, and I just feel sorry for the woman. Good for her for wanting to act at her age, but she just seemed so tired and out of it in those plays, it was sad. I'm not advocating a retirement age for theatre--there are plenty of older performers, writers, directors, and whatever who are going strong, like Arthur Laurents and Chita Rivera (both of them could easily destroy me in a cagematch)--but when you consistently can't remember your lines, maybe you should take a break. I realize she'll only have to sing one very slow song, but still. It's hard to recover from going up on your lyrics. I just hope she makes it through her run okay.

I Buried My Heart In The Ground

The Ragtime revival is extraordinary. I saw the third preview Saturday night, and I was emotionally overwhelmed in the opening number. The show is one of my favorites, though I missed the original Broadway production (I saw the Papermill production a few summers ago as well as a local production up in Boston), so I know it very well. This production, however, makes the material feel entirely new. Every moment is so engaging that the show flies by--it doesn't feel anywhere near its 2 hours and 45ish minutes.

The biggest change from the original, judging from the cast album (and from the other productions I've seen, which seemed similar in tone), is how much more relaxed this Ragtime is. The show on the cast album feels very heightened and a little self-important. There's a sense of "This is an Important American Drama!"that makes me feel a little more removed from the characters than I'd like.

This revival is completely the opposite . All the characters feel approachable, and they embrace the humorous and awkward moments in the show--of which there are more than a few. Ron Bohmer as Father is a perfect example of this. I always thought Father was kind of pompous and rigid, but Ron's Father is so caring and sincere. It's evident that Father isn't a bigot, but a man unable to keep up with the changes around him. Christiane Noll also brings out the awkward beautifully as Mother, especially in her exasperation with Edgar.

Speaking of Christiane Noll, her determination for Mother to be more than who she was centers the character for me. The lines "What of the people whose boundaries chafe/Who marry so bravely and end up so safe?" tell you everything you need to know about Mother, and I found that idea at the heart of Christiane's portrayal. This Mother doesn't come to realize she needs her independence; she realizes she needs it back. That made the character much more real for me. I was also really surprised to discover how much Mother has in common with one of my characters in my thesis musical. They actually go on the same kind of journey, even though I hadn't thought about Mother (or Ragtime, really) at all while writing.

This Ragtime is awkward, but it's also intense. Bobby Steggert is an eerily intense Younger Brother, which I love, and Quentin Earl Darrington and Stephanie Umoh are both pretty crazy as Coalhouse and Sarah. Their almost wild passion--for life in general, not just for each other--drives their storyline, which is heartbreaking. Quentin makes Coalhouse--one of my favorite characters--menancing and scary, particularly towards the end. That was the first time I'd gotten chills at the sight of Coalhouse and his men holed up in the library.

One of the most painful (in the best way!) moments for me was "Your Daddy's Son." It's a beautiful song beause of its ugliness. I can't fathom writing a song that accomplishes what that one does: it has to introduce us to Sarah and make us relate to her while explaining why she buried her newborn child alive. Stephanie Umoh never once makes Sarah a bitch or a victim, nor does she ask for pity. There's anger in her performance, certainly, particularly when singing that Coalhouse "had other tunes to play." But that song is really Sarah asking forgiveness in the most emotionally honest, straightforward way imaginable. "God wants no excuses," she admits to her infant,

"I had only one:
You had your daddy's hands.
Forgive me.
You were your daddy's son."

Let Your Freak Flag Fly

I'm a little sad Shrek is closing in January. I'm not surprised, but I hoped the show would hang on a little longer. It's a solid, heartfelt show that's edgier than the movie in many ways. The seediness of the fairy tale characters alone is enough to make it not a kids' show, although it's certainly one slightly older kids and teenagers would enjoy.

What impressed me about Shrek was its intelligence. From wisely replacing the film's many pop culture references with theatrical ones to David Lindsay-Abaire's clever yet entirely character-appropriate lyrics, Shrek creates a full world I could believe exists off as well as onstage--and it does this without talking down to its audience or lazily relying on people's familiarity with the film.

It's also got a straightforward yet actually kind of insightful message: that being yourself and having a community are sometimes one and the same. Unlike Wicked, which encourages audience members who don't fit in to reject their community, Shrek suggests that celebrating your individuality can actually help you fit in--when the group in question is made up of similiar misfits, at least. I think that's a more mature way to deal with not being able to relate to mainstream culture. There are plenty of times where cutting ties with those around you and being on your own can be healthier, but humans are inherently social, and cultivating a me-vs.-the world mentality is pretty negative. Shrek is assurance that no matter what kind of a freak you are, you'll find other freaks to accept you.

The Movie In My Mind

Oh man, how excited am I for a Miss Saigon movie?! I will be so sad if this doesn't happen. Miss Saigon is one of my favorite shows, and the first time I saw it (the U.S. tour six years ago) was one of the most incredible theatregoing experiences I had. Even though I knew it was based on Madame Butterfly, I was so immersed in the show the ending shocked me, and I couldn't believe it was over. That's the only time I've ever felt a show had more to say in terms of plot, and I totally thought there was a whole other act--that's how badly I wanted to know what happened to the Engineer.

I also think Miss Saigon is perfect for film . It feels extremely cinematic anyway ("The American Dream," hello!), and I think the added realism of film--namely, having a realistic setting instead of sets on a stage--will ground the story in the grittiness that's there, but not always noticed. Big, spectacle-driven musicals aren't generally my thing, but certain stories need to be told on a large scale, and Miss Saigon is one of them (offhand, two others are Ragtime and Sunset Boulevard). I've seen a small production of Miss Saigon and was thrilled to see how effective it was, but this is a big story with big emotions during a hugely powerful time with characters who do rash, crazy things, and film can capture that incredibly well.

At the same time, I hope a film version conveys the intimacy of the piece. At its core, Miss Saigon is a character piece for me; it's hard to care about the show if you don't care about Kim and/or the Engineer. I think a smart film adaptation would balance the show's grandness with its passionate and complicated characters, similar to how the Sweeney Todd film did--and, I'd argue, Dreamgirls to an extent. Spectacle and substance aren't mutually exclusive, and a well done Miss Saigon film could be proof of that.

And really, when you get right down to it, seeing "You Will Not Touch Him" on a big screen will be amazing.

Talking Back

I'm writing from the gorgeous Caribbean island of Grenada, where I'm visiting my boyfriend who's here for medical school.  Most of the past two days have been spent on campus, which has been great for me because it means I'm getting writing done while he's studying (although admittedly, I haven't been all that productive so far, but I don't leave until Friday and it's only Tuesday, and I've been working like crazy since early July, so this is my vacation, dammit).  

Anyway, I want to talk about this encouraging NYT article on post-show talkbacks.  Like the author of the article, I'm not sure how effective a marketing strategy talkbacks are--I doubt someone who wasn't interesting in seeing Oleanna, say, rushed out to buy tickets once the talkbacks were announced--but I think they're an immensely powerful tool in getting people to think about theatre in an immediate, personal way.  During my college years in Boston, I went to a fair number of talkbacks, including one with Jason Robert Brown after the Speakeasy's production of The Last Five Years and ones after each reading in the Huntington's new play festival, Breaking Ground.  Boston theatre is very, very good about talkbacks, even though they have varying results.  There were definitely times where I found the audience's questions--or pronouncements, as was often the case--frustrating, but overall, I'm glad talkbacks are such a part of the Boston theatre scene, and I'd love for New York theatre to follow suit. 

One of the amazing and valuable things about theatre in general and Broadway in particular is its accessibility.  I didn't grow up watching very much TV or movies, and there are still huge gaps in my pop culture education, to the point where I don't know who the majority of movie and television stars are or what they've been in.  Consequently, I don't really understand idolizing film and TV actors, especially since I'm so used to theatre, where you can see the cast of the show you just saw on the subway on your way home.  But even TV and film stars, who are usually separated from the public by a lens or a bodyguard or the glossy pages of a magazine, are accessible onstage.  There's something special about being in the same room as an actor, about breathing the same air and watching them go through those emotions in real time, right in front of you.  

Talkbacks take things a step further by making not only the actors accessible, but the material, as well.  To stick with the Oleanna example, having experts in fields relevant to the play's subject matter clearly states that the the issues in the play are rooted in the real world.  Moreover--and more importantly--being able to share their opinions with experts validates the audiences' reaction to the play and directly makes them a part of the action.  A lively post-show discussion rife with disagreements and even tension makes the audience more invested in the characters than they may otherwise be, and forces everyone to think more about why they had the reactions they did.  I'm not sure that people are necessarily used to discussing theatre and movies on their way home, or that a lot of people are all that comfortable arguing about what they'd seen.  Some works lend themselves more to post-show discussions, certainly, but I'm hoping talkbacks help create an environment where thinking critically about what you just saw and talking about it becomes the norm for something like Shrek or Julia & Julie (both of which I think are significantly smarter than they're given credit for) in addition to intense works like Oleanna or District 9.  There's always something to say about a story, and every reaction is worth examining and defending.  I don't think any creative experience is really complete without that.  

Usually, I Make Things More Depressing!

I'm a bit of a freak in that I'm a bookwriter who's not really into plays. I don't have anything against them, and I have a lot of respect for playwrights for doing all that writing without a collaborator, but I almost always wish somebody would start singing. That probably means I should definitely be writing musicals and not plays (although I've written more plays than musicals at this point in life), but even amongst fellow bookwriters and lyricists, I'm an oddity. There are plenty of plays I enjoy, and there are a few I feel very strongly about, but I just don't connect to plays as easily as I connect to musicals.

That being said, I make it a point to read plays, since that's a good way to learn a lot about plot and structure. I hadn't done so in a while--lately I've been reading a lot of comics and non-fiction books about the medical field, which is apparently what happens when your boyfriend is away in med school--but last night I picked up my copy of Six Yuan Plays. I'd needed it for a play structure class I took in undergrad, but hadn't looked at it since.

I was surprised by how much I enjoyed many of the plays. I often have a hard time with very stylized plays, and this type of ancient Chinese drama is stylized like ridiculous. Something about the way it was done, though, combined with the seriousness of the plays' subject matter, really clicked for me. In particular, I found The Orphan of Chao hilarious. It's about the attempted extermination of a royal family and how an infant son is the only member to survive. There are two suicides in the first few pages, the brutal beating of an old man, the threat of infanticide, and LOTS of vengence, so it's not like, you know, Mel Brooks. But the contrast between the horrific events of the play and the calmly direct language of the characters keeps it from being heavy and depressing. I kept expecting someone to react to a suicide with, "Oh, great, you kill yourself now? That's productive." Not that the characters are obnoxious and self-centered--they're not--but it's that kind of absurd, understated kind of world that feels very modern in a lot of ways.

Not all the plays struck me as funny in that way, and I don't know if any of them were meant to be. It's possible I was reading it too much through my own lens. Regardless of whether I totally misinterpreted the text and tone of the plays--especially The Orphan of Chao--it taught me a lot about dark comedy, and it's made me curious about ancient Chinese drama. And any of those plays I read last night would make great musicals :)

It's Not Called "Legally Distracted."

I find this video promoting the London Legally Blonde kind of weird and really cheesy. I love Legally Blonde, for the record. I still haven't seen the movie (though I mean to) and was skeptical about the subject matter, but since Larry O'Keefe and Nell Benjamin (he of Bat Boy, both of the smart musical adaptations of Sarah, Plain & Tall and Cam Jansen) were writing the score, I figured it couldn't be all that bad. And it's not at all. In fact, the show has a lot of fascinating things to say about gender expectations and identity, and I'm still obsessed with some of the lyrics.

"So Much Better" is one of my favorite songs from the show, not to mention a huge dramatic moment for Elle, so I'm definitely glad the London production is featuring it in that video. But why not show Sheridan Smith actually performing the number onstage? Why have this bizzare quasi-music video thing? Why does Sheridan appear in different costumes throughout the same number? Why the all-white background? Why the random cuts to various cast members? I get why they'd want to show the other characters, but why not intersperse Sheridan's performance of "So Much Better" with clips from other parts of the show? That's not only standard marketing, but it's exactly what the Broadway production did two years ago. The Broadway production also a video with Laura Bell Bundy performing "So Much Better" onstage--the whole number, without any cutaways. I watched that video so many times it was embarassing, and so did a lot of my friends.

I'm not sure what to make of this. Are the London marketing team simply trying to make the show seem as dynamic as possible, hoping to tap into the teenage girl demograph that has helped make Wicked an international phenomenon? If so, I can't help but feel a little insulted. Granted, I'm too old to be their target audience, but I was a teenage girl not that long ago, and I've been working with that age group since I was barely out of it myself. You don't need a lot of video acrobatics to get a teenage girl's attention, especially not the kinds of girls who'd want to see a Broadway musical in the first place. I mean, high school girls have been belting out "On My Own" for the past twenty years, and Eponine delivers that number alone on a bare stage. Aside from the fact that I don't think the show is only meant for teen girls, and I think it's kind of sexist and patronizing to claim it is just because it's about a pretty blonde 22 year old who loves designer clothes and the color pink.

Many New York critics failed to give Legally Blonde and its fans the respect they deserve. I hate to see its own marketing team do the same.