Memphis As Metaphor

Ceiling of the Shubert Theater

My parents were in town last weekend - a fun visit involving the requisite city activities: dinners out, a trip to a museum, a walk in Central Park, and a Broadway show.

We caught a matinee of Memphis, which was good and made me want to sign up for a dance class and buy dresses with crinolines, ASAP.  Memphis tells the story of a 1950's DJ - a white man living in the segregated South - who works to get "race music" it's due play-time on mainstream radio stations.  There are some great blues, rock and gospel tunes throughout the show and, as the plot progresses, we see this very music build a bridge between the divided races while simultaneously tearing down the walls that stood between them.  A little romance and a few group dance scenes also do their part to ease racial tension.

Over-simplified and a little hokey?  Sure.  But it's Broadway.  Don't tell me you don't love it.

And I'll admit to getting a little emotional at certain points during the show - like when those crazy teenagers met on common ground to sing the same song.  It may have been overly sentimental, but the underlying sentiment was still beautiful enough to bring a few tears to my eyes.  (Just a few - you know - in a classy, restrained sort of way.)

* * *

A few days later, after my parents headed home and I headed back to my beige cubicle, I came across these words somewhere's on the internet:

"Whenever you find tears in your eyes, especially unexpected tears, it is well to pay the closest attention. They are not only telling you something about the secret of who you are, but more often than not God is speaking to you through them of the mystery of where you have come from and is summoning you to where, if your soul is to be saved, you should go to next."

-Frederick Buechner

What do you think about that?

I think (if you wanna know) that ol' Buech might have something there.  And I wonder if those tears I fought in the Shubert Theater weren't just a natural product of a mushy musical, but maybe also pointed to a more innate, deep-seated interest.  Reconciliation - even a fictionalized version played out on stage - is a beautiful thing.  The promise and realization of it makes me cry, and maybe that's something to remember, something to take as a summons, as I sort through the mystery of lech lecha and search out what's next.

You're A Waldorf Salad

I saw Anything Goes a few weeks ago.  I forgot to tell you.  Don't be mad.

I'd never seen this play before, but I figured the music of Cole Porter (swoon) as delivered by Sutton Foster (adore), the legendary Joel Grey (admire), and the sassy Jessica Walter (love) would be a slam dunk.

You know what, though? It was fun, and it was glittering, but it wasn't my favorite.

I didn't love the plot.  I get that it was essentially thrown together all those years ago - a last-minute re-write - an "Anything Goes!" attitude.  And it's a Broadway musical, after all, so some belief must be suspended, some amount of deus ex machina must be expected, when tying up plot lines into a neat, shiny, happy finale.

But the characters all felt flat, their motivations left to anyone's guess.  I couldn't get invested in what happened to them.  Would that scrappy young lad get the pretty girl in the end?  Don't care.  Would that sassy show girl find true love?  Don't care.  Would the doddering mobster get away with murder?  Don't care. 

So Anything Goes lost me there, on the care factor.  Though it did have some pretty fun costumes and dance sequences. If flapper costumes and flap-ball-changes can cover a multitude of plot sins in your book, then go see it!  If not, then maybe just get the soundtrack.  Cole Porter never disappoints.

In Review

This weekend was...not awesome.  But I got by with a little help from friends' encouraging messages, and improvisers who made me laugh, and Shake Shack, and an elderly Scrabble opponent who never ceases to amaze/surprise me.  All bright spots.  I'm so thankful.  And that's all I want to say about this weekend.

Wanna know what was awesome, though?  The Spidey Project.  I wasn't sure I felt up for it, but those tickets were not easy to come by.  So I went.  And was glad. Because it was an awesome experience.  Because the crowd had such a positive, supportive vibe.  Because the story was funny and because the songs were well-written. Because someone had a vision and he made it happen, and I got to watch it succeed on stage.  Awesome.

The 39 Steps

Oh man, I loved this play so much.

The 39 Steps is a stage adaptation of Alfred Hitchcock's movie by the same name (itself an adaptation of a spy novel by John Buchan).  It ran on Broadway for two years, before moving to an off-Broadway theater nearly a year ago.  And all the while, I meant to see it - I kept meaning to see it! - but I didn't.

Then last month I heard it was closing for good. Time was running out; no more procrastination. I bought my ticket for last night's performance and took myself on an artist's date.

And I'm so sad I delayed, because I loved everything about it!  If I had seen the play earlier, I would certainly have wanted to go see it again (dragging several of you with me). Alas, though - it closes on Sunday and I'm leaving town.  Last night was my one-and-only.  But if you live nearby  - catch it while you can!

The story is set in the 1940's (my era! my style! my music!) and follows one man's struggle to clear his name of murder and stop a nefarious spy ring from compromising England's air defense.

And it's funny.  So, so funny.  It pokes fun at itself, at its genre, it makes reference to other Hitchcock movies and to the man himself.  There are shadow puppets, strategic use of wind machines and dry ice, inventive staging, creative storytelling.

The best part?  Four actors play about a hundred different roles throughout.  There was one particularly amazing scene where an actor played three different men in rapid succession, distinguishing them with different hats and accents.

Reading over that last sentence, I confess it maybe doesn't sound so amazing.  It may be a "you had to be there" moment.  But I promise - if you have the opportunity to be there before the play closes on Jan. 16th - you will be amazed, too.

That movie poster isn't lying: The 39 Steps is a "dizzy delight" and "absurdly enjoyable."  Totes worth the price of admission.

Next Fall

Riverside Park, taken last fall

I recently saw the Broadway production of Next Fall.  I had been curious about this play - which deals with issues of sexuality, religion, relationships, family, heaven and hell - since reading the reviews a few months ago. So when a friend invited me to go, I was glad to accept.  I wanted to see how these topics were treated.

I sometimes get nervous when a character in a play/movie/show is portrayed as a born-again Christian.  Will it be an accurate depiction of Christianity?  Or will it employ stereotypes and misconceptions?  I was relieved to find the writing in Next Fall to be pretty fair and balanced. As in life, there are no easy answers in this play.  There are shades of gray; there are doubts. And there are questions - most of which are still unanswered when the curtain falls.

The title of the play refers to a character's decision to put off an important conversation with a family member until "next fall."  Many scenes take place in a NYC hospital, where the character is in a coma following an accident.  We, the audience, are left waiting to see if "next fall" will ever arrive for him.

A good reminder to not delay living.  To not leave things unsaid for an unguaranteed future; to live and love fully in the present.  Or, to quote another Broadway play, "No day but today."

* * *

After the show, my friend and I wandered over to a diner in Hell's Kitchen, where we sat drinking coffee and eating cheesecake and diagramming our family trees using all the cutlery and condiments on the table (his tree necessitated all his silverware as well as the ketchup, mustard, and sugar; I was able make mine using just a fork and knife and a couple of non-dairy creamers.)

We sat talking for awhile; it was late, but the diner still had life in it.  Two women sat along the far wall, eating dinner.  Three guys sat across the aisle from us, talking about video games.  Four friends were noisily reuniting and reading the menu in the booth behind us.  The manager walked by, refilled my coffee, offered up his opinions on the Knicks.

I often find myself thinking along the lines of "Life will really get started when I have x, when I've achieved y, when I've reached z."  Feeling that until those things happen, I'm just in a waiting game, a holding pattern.  But on that Wednesday night, sometime after midnight, as we walked from the diner towards the neon haze of Times Square to catch the subway, full from culture and conversation, I realized, "Hey - I like the way my life looks right now. I don't have x, y, or z, but I have this - all this - and for today, that's ok."

It's hard for me to hold that perspective all the time.  But in those moments when I do grasp it - those God-given breaks and reprieves from longing for tomorrow - in those moments, I'm ok with today.

Puppet Up!

Camera phone photos of the "cast"

When AD asked if I wanted to go see an improvised puppet show, I said "Sure thing, lady!"  She had me at "improvised."

But when I learned that the show was created by Brian Henson (son of Jim Henson) and would feature Muppet-style puppets, I was doubly excited.  Who doesn't love the Muppets!?  (Answer: Crazy people, I guess.  Because you would have to be crazy not to love the Muppets.)

Stuffed and Unstrung is currently playing at the Union Square Theatre through the end of May, and if you're in the area, it's worth looking into.  Very, very funny stuff.  Brian and his fellow improvisers use puppets to perform short-form improv - there's singing, dancing, audience participation, and no two shows are ever the same.

Some of the sweetest moments of the show were when the puppeteers recreated original Jim Henson/Frank Oz routines.  Some of the funniest moments were when the cast made up songs based on audience suggestions.

On the night I attended, many audience members seemed to have been drinking in good spirits, and their topic suggestions were often a little bawdy spirited.  No, it's not a G-rated puppet show and it ain't exactly Sesame Street.  But it is terribly funny and immensely creative.  And it made me love Improv (and Muppets!) all the more.

Laughter, Presence

Ceiling of American Airlines Theater

Last week, C.Ell and I went to see "Present Laughter," a Noel Coward comedy starring Mr. Victor Garber.

(You know Victor, don't you?  If you weren't an Alias fan (and I wasn't), then perhaps you'd recognize him from his roles in "Legally Blonde," "Titanic," and "Sleepless in Seattle," or as Jesus in the movie version of "Godspell," way back when.)

Mr. Garber was delightful as the silk pajama-wearing, dressing gown-clad, histrionic actor/playboy ("Garry Essendine") who serves as the lynchpin for Coward's funny cast of characters.  The play takes place in 1930's London; the set for this production was Essendine's beautifully appointed, Art Deco-ful bachelor pad. 

(Art Deco is so glamorous and groovy, no?  Lacquered wood, bevelled mirrors - I heart thee.)

A Little Night Music...

...is playing on Broadway and I saw it a few weeks ago. While overall it was an enjoyable afternoon of theater-going, I left a bit confused by the story. Specifically the ending, which - judging from the score's bright finish - was intended to be a happy one. However, the romantic arrangements that the characters have settled into by the finale seemed to me more oedipal and pitiable than health-ful and happy.

But if someone has a different take on things, I'd be glad to hear it! In the meantime, I wrote a little poem. Just 'cause.

The set design is simple but entirely effective
Chorus members add an unusual perspective

Quite the cast of characters populate the stage
‘Fredrika’s voice delights despite her precocious age

Angela, that grand dame, delivers lines with vim and vigor
(One wishes that her part could have been a little bigger)

Catherine Zeta is just lovely, treading boards in her bare feet
Singing “Isn’t it bliss?” with irony, after ‘Desiree’s defeat

And though I might give praise for Send in the Clown’s melody
It’s harder to applaud the characters’ infidelity

When curtain fell on second choices and second chances -
Marriages broken to make way for new romances -

I wondered if Sondheim had meant it all for whimsy?
The “happy ending” for me just felt a little too flimsy.


(Meter's broken, but I'm too lazy to fix it. Oops!)