Last night, I went and saw Jersey Boys for the second time. Mister, my sister in-law, Diva, her husband, Dino, Uncle John and Cousin Bird and I all went to Harry Caray's for "dinner," which ended up being drinks at the bar. I got so hungry I started to get angry and just ordered soup and a salad. Lesson one: never promise me food and then fail to deliver it. I get vicious.
The show was better than I remembered it. The story of Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons was meant for Broadway: scrappy hoods cum musicians scoop up a young local talent, don't achieve success until they meet up with another young musical prodigy. Singer and prodigy create a lifelong bond and partnership sealed with a Jersey Handshake. The group manager gets in trouble with the seedy underbelly, the fourth guy seethes in resentment, the group is threatened and the Jersey Handshakes save the day. Featuring all of the songs that you always knew, but didn't necessarily knew who sang them. Falsettos and harmonies through the roof ... This shit is pure Broadway gold, I'm telling you.
One of my favorite things to do when seeing a show is to have champagne at intermission. Well, correction. One of my favorite things to do is have champagne. Which I did. Two wee glasses of Chandon, one before the show and one at intermission. Bubbly makes everything better, right?
Wrong.
When I went to bed last night, I felt fabulous-- minorly buzzed, the songs resounding in my happy mind, I drifted off all cuddled into the soft sheets at the hotel we stayed at last night. But when I woke up this morning and met up with Diva and Dino for breakfast, I realized I felt ... bad. Wrong. I felt that day-after-drinking shame I usually associate with dancing on tables, saying the wrong thing to the wrong person, drunk dialing my mother and losing my purse.
Diva was experiencing a similar phenomenon. Why did we both feel compelled to check our call logs to make sure we didn't drunk dial? Why did we ask our husbands if we happened to owe them apologies?
Why were we doing the walk of shame?
I can only assume one thing. Something terrible. Something I don't even want to think, let alone commit to writing.
I don't think champagne is my friend anymore.
I will leave you with lines from a Four Seasons song to illustrate my feelings on this revelation.
(Silly girl) Shame on you--your mama said
(Silly girl) Shame on you, you’re cryin' in bed!
(Silly girl) Shame on you, you told me lies!
Big girls do cry!
Showing posts with label Theater. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Theater. Show all posts
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Monday, October 20, 2008
Seven Guys and One Chick--The Musical
On the opposite end of the musical theater spectrum, far from the estrogen-soaked event that was Dirty Dancing, lies Million Dollar Quartet. I knew Friday night's trip to the Goodman Theater was going to be diametrically opposed to Wednesday's trip to the Palace. My first clue was that Ken and I decided to forgo dinner and go straight for the drinks. We drank our way through the theater district, and ended up in the lobby with just enough time for one more cocktail.
I watched the bartender fill my glass with vodka and top it with a splash of cranberry juice.
"The show's only ninety minutes," he said. "No intermission."
Ah, so it was going to be that kind of night.
On December 4, 1956, the sons of Sun Studio came home to roost with Sam Phillips, the man who had been the first to record them. Elvis had already signed with RCA; Johnny Cash was coming into his own; Carl Perkins hoped to surpass his Blue Suede Shoes success; and Jerry Lee Lewis was happy just to be signed. Fortune, and a little finagling on Sam Phillips' part, aligned the stars so Carl Perkin's ordinary studio session became a jam session that made history. The tapes contain 46 tracks and reveal a highly informal event that interspersed music with with what must have been the coolest bullshit session of all times. Million Dollar Quartet attempts to capture that night in ninety minutes.
Mezzanine seating rules. It's nice to be able to look down onto the stage and see all the action. Where the Dirty Dancing show made use of the entire stage and had all sorts of complicated devices and action, the Goodman recreated Sun Studios using only a small portion, including a sidewalk area just outside the door, a dais for the upright bass and the drum set, a piano in the corner and the sound booth opposite. Three microphone stands faced the audience.
It was a musical in the purest sense of the word. "Jerry Lee" was nuttier than squirrel shit, busting Carl's chops relentlessly and hamming it up brilliantly on the piano. Elvis and Carl should have switched, because "Carl" looked more like "Elvis", but whatever. They both did great jobs capturing Presley's and Perkins' sounds and styles. "Johnny Cash" looked and sounded enough like Johnny Cash, too. These guys all have jobs as impersonators when the show ends.
"Jay Perkins", played the part of the session's upright bassist and Carl's brother. And then there's The Drummer. The poor drummer not only didn't even get a name in the play, he didn't get a line, either (the drummer's name was W.S. Holland, as per Wikipedia). I could tell The Drummer has worked on his "look", though. The lone female presence in the studio session was Elvis' girlfriend, "Dyanne". While she, The Drummer and Jay Perkins all play bit parts, they're well done nonetheless and are integral to the show. Only the Sam Phillips character neither played an instrument nor sang, but in many ways, it was his story.
Instead of bursting into song and dance musical-style, it seemed an organic movement between shooting the shit and suddenly being in the midst of a song. The fast-paced script and all-over-the-place music reflected the informality of the recordings. It was about having fun and enjoying the moment together, not making a commercially viable record. Although I have no doubt the script went beyond taking liberties with the actual recordings and took way off into the realm of fiction, the script served to illustrate where each of the artists were in their lives at that particular moment.
Obviously, Presley was already a tremendous success when the event occurred. But we learned how it is that covering Perkins' break-out hit Blue Suede Shoes helped cement his fame, the kind which Perkins never quite realized. We find out more about Cash's desires to just sing some gospel, already, and all of the resistance he felt from the music industry. We find out more about Lewis' balls to the wall insanity and Phillips' business and artistic acumen.
While the music certainly rocked, there was a bittersweet quality because we all know how their stories ended. Their personal dynamics were touched upon, which illuminated some of the particulars of their lives, and certainly helped identify the spirit of the time (I refuse to use the word zeitgeist. Oh, shit. Did I just say zeitgeist?). More than identifying who these guys were and what they did, the show offered a peek into what it might have been like in that studio, to see what kind of fun it must have been to imbibe that sweet liqueur of pure musical genius.
Verdict: Best musical ever. It's very manly, so you guys won't have to worry about sprouting a vagina if you actually admit to yourselves you want to see it. If/when it comes to your town, get some tickets. No one won't like this show. It'll get and keep your attention--just like this post title did. Pervs.
I watched the bartender fill my glass with vodka and top it with a splash of cranberry juice.
"The show's only ninety minutes," he said. "No intermission."
Ah, so it was going to be that kind of night.
On December 4, 1956, the sons of Sun Studio came home to roost with Sam Phillips, the man who had been the first to record them. Elvis had already signed with RCA; Johnny Cash was coming into his own; Carl Perkins hoped to surpass his Blue Suede Shoes success; and Jerry Lee Lewis was happy just to be signed. Fortune, and a little finagling on Sam Phillips' part, aligned the stars so Carl Perkin's ordinary studio session became a jam session that made history. The tapes contain 46 tracks and reveal a highly informal event that interspersed music with with what must have been the coolest bullshit session of all times. Million Dollar Quartet attempts to capture that night in ninety minutes.
Mezzanine seating rules. It's nice to be able to look down onto the stage and see all the action. Where the Dirty Dancing show made use of the entire stage and had all sorts of complicated devices and action, the Goodman recreated Sun Studios using only a small portion, including a sidewalk area just outside the door, a dais for the upright bass and the drum set, a piano in the corner and the sound booth opposite. Three microphone stands faced the audience.
It was a musical in the purest sense of the word. "Jerry Lee" was nuttier than squirrel shit, busting Carl's chops relentlessly and hamming it up brilliantly on the piano. Elvis and Carl should have switched, because "Carl" looked more like "Elvis", but whatever. They both did great jobs capturing Presley's and Perkins' sounds and styles. "Johnny Cash" looked and sounded enough like Johnny Cash, too. These guys all have jobs as impersonators when the show ends.
"Jay Perkins", played the part of the session's upright bassist and Carl's brother. And then there's The Drummer. The poor drummer not only didn't even get a name in the play, he didn't get a line, either (the drummer's name was W.S. Holland, as per Wikipedia). I could tell The Drummer has worked on his "look", though. The lone female presence in the studio session was Elvis' girlfriend, "Dyanne". While she, The Drummer and Jay Perkins all play bit parts, they're well done nonetheless and are integral to the show. Only the Sam Phillips character neither played an instrument nor sang, but in many ways, it was his story.
Instead of bursting into song and dance musical-style, it seemed an organic movement between shooting the shit and suddenly being in the midst of a song. The fast-paced script and all-over-the-place music reflected the informality of the recordings. It was about having fun and enjoying the moment together, not making a commercially viable record. Although I have no doubt the script went beyond taking liberties with the actual recordings and took way off into the realm of fiction, the script served to illustrate where each of the artists were in their lives at that particular moment.
Obviously, Presley was already a tremendous success when the event occurred. But we learned how it is that covering Perkins' break-out hit Blue Suede Shoes helped cement his fame, the kind which Perkins never quite realized. We find out more about Cash's desires to just sing some gospel, already, and all of the resistance he felt from the music industry. We find out more about Lewis' balls to the wall insanity and Phillips' business and artistic acumen.
While the music certainly rocked, there was a bittersweet quality because we all know how their stories ended. Their personal dynamics were touched upon, which illuminated some of the particulars of their lives, and certainly helped identify the spirit of the time (I refuse to use the word zeitgeist. Oh, shit. Did I just say zeitgeist?). More than identifying who these guys were and what they did, the show offered a peek into what it might have been like in that studio, to see what kind of fun it must have been to imbibe that sweet liqueur of pure musical genius.
Verdict: Best musical ever. It's very manly, so you guys won't have to worry about sprouting a vagina if you actually admit to yourselves you want to see it. If/when it comes to your town, get some tickets. No one won't like this show. It'll get and keep your attention--just like this post title did. Pervs.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
I Carried A Watermelon
I know it seems like all I ever do is eat. Well, sometimes, between heaping portions of raw seafood, White Castles and my parents' famous pizza (upon which I will pontificate prodigiously another time) I like to enjoy a little theatah, dahlings.
To wit, last night I went to see Dirty Dancing: The Musical. I know; want some whine with that cheese? Well, it was a freaking blast. It's hard to adapt movies to stage, but between the kick ass set design and the rather simple, dance-heavy plot, this movie was a natural choice. This was yet another trip in the Way Back Machine, and aside from a few minor critiques, I would say it was a fun journey.
Let me start by saying that Amanda Leigh Cobb must have watched DD extensively and may have even had a few sit-downs with Jennifer Gray herself. She had Frances "Baby" Houseman down to a science. Loved her. I bought her act wholesale. Then there was the freakishly hot Britta Lazenga as the Kellerman Resort dance instructor, Penny. Holy shit, I think I turned into a lesbian for a minute. She looks like a less thyroidal and far more beautiful Elizabeth Berkley, and I couldn't keep my damn eyes off of her. She ate every scene she was in, which was probably less about her chops and more about the fact that she was usually acting with the craptastic Josef Brown as Johnny Castle.
Now, when it comes to The Swayze, I have to say whatever role he played, he played it to the hilt. Even if it wasn't a great role or a great movie, you could tell that ol' Patrick owned that shit. See Roadhouse and tell me I'm wrong. Anyway, Josef Brown is freakishly hot and served to temper my Britta Lazenga-induced lesbionic flare-up. But he couldn't hold a candle to The Swayz. Despite reprising the role of Johnny for American audiences after playing it in England and Australia, he seems to be the musical-theater version of Keanu Reeves.
While he gave it his very best effort to Americanize his accent throughout the show, and I give him all sorts of propers for doing a far better job than I would if I had to work an accent of any kind, it seemed the effort of all that Americanizing, dancing and brooding took its toll on his acting abilities. Poor Josef's Australian crept out as the show progressed, which was fine, because he took off his shirt a whole lot, and when he didn't, he was wearing tight clothes anyway, and ...
What was I talking about? Oh, yeah. He kind of sucked. I would have been happy to go along with the story that Johnny was visiting from Melbourne or some shit rather than hear his fake Eastern accent disintegrate. But as with Keanu, if the project has any merit of its own, you will suspend your incredulity that someone who can't act keeps getting jobs. Besides, Mr. Brown can dance like The Swayze, so between his hoofing talent and supreme sexiness, all is forgiven.
My only other complaints are that at times the sound got so loud my brain hurt and when the strobe lights were cooking, in conjunction with the sonic overload, I felt dangerously close to seizure. But as for the rest, it was great.
Let's see a show of hands--how many of you have seen Dirty Dancing? Come on, guys, you know you've seen it, too. It's a classic piece of modern American film! Playing with screens and projection, as well as simple and effective staging devices and set design, the story panned out just like the movie, down to a lot of the script. The story actually developed some of the other characters and plot twists in ways that the movie didn't, which was cool, if only necessary to fill in areas that couldn't be translated to the stage.
For instance, Baby's family relationships all seemed to have a bit more dimension. Lisa, the obnoxious sister, played adorably by Katlyn Carlson, and mother Marge Houseman (Kaitlin Hopkins) actually exist as a characters in this version with some funny and touching lines. Penny's character takes on more dimension, too, with her abortion issue going beyond the obvious "dangers of back-alley hack jobs" and touches on some of the social and emotional aspects she experienced. The barely touched upon references to the Freedom Riders in 1963 in the film were developed further on the stage, probably to establish time and place beyond the music and costuming.
I'm sure these bonus side-story developments are a necessary device in adaptations. That being said, I was willing to suspend my disbelief even when some of the maneuvers were transparent even to me, the non-theater-educated schlub sitting in Aisle 3. But we can forget about all that and talk about what really matters.
The music: everything you would expect, pretty much all the standard DD songs, but light on the obnoxious Swayze-sung songs. Phew. There was a priceless moment with an old dude singing Besame Mucho that, even if the whole magilla sucked, he would have made it worthwhile.
The dancing: fucking awesome. I want to dance like that!
The scenery and stage design: amazing. With the use of video, screens and projection, they managed to rock the scene where Baby and Johnny work on lifts in the water without water. It was way cool. They have this divided stage that can rotate, rise, fall, do all kinds to help shift scenes and create spaces. Job well done on that front for sure.
The costuming: I need some more dresses in my life. Why do I shy away from floral prints? And gloves! I want to wear white gloves. And headbands. The clothes were cute. I need to go thrifting, and find me some vintage early '60s clothing, which will dovetail nicely with my recent Mad Men obsession.
The verdict: tons of fun. All of the classic songs and familiar story-line with a few tweaks for good measure. The cast was awesome, and Josef Brown's wooden line delivery can be overlooked with all of the other whistles and bells going on around him.* And by whistles, I mean me, standing on my chair discovering that I actually can whistle through my teeth like a construction worker. And by bells, I mean the angry shouts of, "Down in front, you maniac!"
*One caveat: the security detail at the gorgeous Cadillac Palace Theater is pretty tight. So, watch that whistling.
To wit, last night I went to see Dirty Dancing: The Musical. I know; want some whine with that cheese? Well, it was a freaking blast. It's hard to adapt movies to stage, but between the kick ass set design and the rather simple, dance-heavy plot, this movie was a natural choice. This was yet another trip in the Way Back Machine, and aside from a few minor critiques, I would say it was a fun journey.
Let me start by saying that Amanda Leigh Cobb must have watched DD extensively and may have even had a few sit-downs with Jennifer Gray herself. She had Frances "Baby" Houseman down to a science. Loved her. I bought her act wholesale. Then there was the freakishly hot Britta Lazenga as the Kellerman Resort dance instructor, Penny. Holy shit, I think I turned into a lesbian for a minute. She looks like a less thyroidal and far more beautiful Elizabeth Berkley, and I couldn't keep my damn eyes off of her. She ate every scene she was in, which was probably less about her chops and more about the fact that she was usually acting with the craptastic Josef Brown as Johnny Castle.
Now, when it comes to The Swayze, I have to say whatever role he played, he played it to the hilt. Even if it wasn't a great role or a great movie, you could tell that ol' Patrick owned that shit. See Roadhouse and tell me I'm wrong. Anyway, Josef Brown is freakishly hot and served to temper my Britta Lazenga-induced lesbionic flare-up. But he couldn't hold a candle to The Swayz. Despite reprising the role of Johnny for American audiences after playing it in England and Australia, he seems to be the musical-theater version of Keanu Reeves.
While he gave it his very best effort to Americanize his accent throughout the show, and I give him all sorts of propers for doing a far better job than I would if I had to work an accent of any kind, it seemed the effort of all that Americanizing, dancing and brooding took its toll on his acting abilities. Poor Josef's Australian crept out as the show progressed, which was fine, because he took off his shirt a whole lot, and when he didn't, he was wearing tight clothes anyway, and ...
What was I talking about? Oh, yeah. He kind of sucked. I would have been happy to go along with the story that Johnny was visiting from Melbourne or some shit rather than hear his fake Eastern accent disintegrate. But as with Keanu, if the project has any merit of its own, you will suspend your incredulity that someone who can't act keeps getting jobs. Besides, Mr. Brown can dance like The Swayze, so between his hoofing talent and supreme sexiness, all is forgiven.
My only other complaints are that at times the sound got so loud my brain hurt and when the strobe lights were cooking, in conjunction with the sonic overload, I felt dangerously close to seizure. But as for the rest, it was great.
Let's see a show of hands--how many of you have seen Dirty Dancing? Come on, guys, you know you've seen it, too. It's a classic piece of modern American film! Playing with screens and projection, as well as simple and effective staging devices and set design, the story panned out just like the movie, down to a lot of the script. The story actually developed some of the other characters and plot twists in ways that the movie didn't, which was cool, if only necessary to fill in areas that couldn't be translated to the stage.
For instance, Baby's family relationships all seemed to have a bit more dimension. Lisa, the obnoxious sister, played adorably by Katlyn Carlson, and mother Marge Houseman (Kaitlin Hopkins) actually exist as a characters in this version with some funny and touching lines. Penny's character takes on more dimension, too, with her abortion issue going beyond the obvious "dangers of back-alley hack jobs" and touches on some of the social and emotional aspects she experienced. The barely touched upon references to the Freedom Riders in 1963 in the film were developed further on the stage, probably to establish time and place beyond the music and costuming.
I'm sure these bonus side-story developments are a necessary device in adaptations. That being said, I was willing to suspend my disbelief even when some of the maneuvers were transparent even to me, the non-theater-educated schlub sitting in Aisle 3. But we can forget about all that and talk about what really matters.
The music: everything you would expect, pretty much all the standard DD songs, but light on the obnoxious Swayze-sung songs. Phew. There was a priceless moment with an old dude singing Besame Mucho that, even if the whole magilla sucked, he would have made it worthwhile.
The dancing: fucking awesome. I want to dance like that!
The scenery and stage design: amazing. With the use of video, screens and projection, they managed to rock the scene where Baby and Johnny work on lifts in the water without water. It was way cool. They have this divided stage that can rotate, rise, fall, do all kinds to help shift scenes and create spaces. Job well done on that front for sure.
The costuming: I need some more dresses in my life. Why do I shy away from floral prints? And gloves! I want to wear white gloves. And headbands. The clothes were cute. I need to go thrifting, and find me some vintage early '60s clothing, which will dovetail nicely with my recent Mad Men obsession.
The verdict: tons of fun. All of the classic songs and familiar story-line with a few tweaks for good measure. The cast was awesome, and Josef Brown's wooden line delivery can be overlooked with all of the other whistles and bells going on around him.* And by whistles, I mean me, standing on my chair discovering that I actually can whistle through my teeth like a construction worker. And by bells, I mean the angry shouts of, "Down in front, you maniac!"
*One caveat: the security detail at the gorgeous Cadillac Palace Theater is pretty tight. So, watch that whistling.
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