Can you believe it? It's been nearly a year since Cats closed on Broadway. It was with a great deal of nostalgia then that I made the trek back up to New York with Cindy and Jazz. We arrived via bus between 11:30 and twelve noon and began the walk to our hotel, stopping first at the Martin Beck Theatre so that Cindy and Jazz could purchase tickets for Kiss Me, Kate.
We knew the theatre was on 44th St., but we weren't sure of which direction. When we got to 44th we turned right at the corner, but didn't see the theatre so we asked a street vendor. He gave us a bemused smile and said, "Right there," pointing back the way we'd come. Sure enough, there was a huge Kiss Me, Kate sign in plain view; if we had only bothered to look left when we got to the corner we certainly would have seen it ourselves.
Cindy and Jazz bought their tickets, then we scouted out the stage door for future reference. Thankfully it was clearly labeled. (Of course, the theatre was, too, but we missed it anyway.) Then we proceeded to our hotel.
We met Matt in the lobby and checked in, changed clothes, and walked to the Playwright where our Cats fan reunion party was to be. It was on the way there that I first saw the Winter Garden. I tell you my heart actually sank to see the Mamma Mia sign instead of the Cats eyes. It just didn't look right; it's the difference between black and white, literally.
At the Playwright we had a room reserved on the second floor. Besides the main table set-up, there was a small table near the door. We used this to display the auction items and descriptions, and also a couple of Cindy's photo albums. And there was a bar at the other end of the room, of course, but I didn't bother with that. No alcohol before a show, that's my personal rule. Afterward, maybe, if it's available. Anyway, what I seriously needed right then was COFFEE!
Gradually the other fans began to trickle in. Dax was the first, and I think he was the one who alerted us to an interesting sight just outside our window. It was Ginger! Terry Pratchett fans who have read Moving Pictures will know what I'm talking about, but I will explain for the unenlightened masses:
Moving Pictures is set in Pratchett's fantasy Dysc World, where someone has just figured out how to make movies. Since the process involves magic, it attracts the attention of the creatures from the Dungeon Dimensions who are always looking for a way to break through from their world to the real one. When the movie of the century finally appears on the big screen (with lots of Gone With the Wind references), the DD creatures get their chance, taking on the forms of the screen characters as they appear, larger than life. The "hero" monster doesn't make it before some quick-thinking person turns off the projector, but the "heroine" monster, AKA "Ginger", climbs out of the screen and terrorizes the populace. She climbs the tallest tower in the city a la King Kong before she is shot down.
ANYWAY! What we saw out the window at the Playwright was a giant woman across the street bending down to peer in at us. What it actually was, of course, was a giant billboard advertisement. But at first glance it didn't appear that way...
As the room filled up we mingled and chatted, and some ordered drinks. We were waiting for Jon Erik Goldberg to show up, he having said that he was definitely coming. After a while, though, we decided we had better get the meal started and took our seats at the table. Jon Erik walked in just as they were serving the salad. Clever boy, he didn't have to wait for his food.
The food was excellent and the company charming. I was sitting near Jon Erik and enjoyed just listening to him cut up as he conversed on everything from his food to his family to his new show. He's in Mamma Mia; seems he can't get enough of the Winter Garden.
Cindy and I teased him about how he used to guard his costume tail when he was in Cats and he complained, "Everyone always wanted to touch my tail!"
"I touched it one time and you didn't even realize it," I said with a touch of pride.
"Well, the touching I didn't mind so much," he relented, "it's when they pulled it that made me mad." And apparently his fellow cast members were the worst offenders.
While talking to Jon Erik I kept glancing at a young lady sitting across from me. She was tall and slim with close cut red hair and she looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn't for the life of me place the face. Finally Cindy said something to her and called her by her name. Realization dawned and I exclaimed, "Oh, that's who you are!" (It was Stoffelees.)
She gave me an uncertain smile and said, "What was your name again?"
"I'm Delilah," I told her.
"Oh!" she cried. "You coloured your hair!" (It's red now instead of dark brown)
"And you cut yours!" I replied. (It used to be as long as mine.)
We smiled at each other, glad to have finally figured out who the other was.
At about the time that dessert was served Billy Johnstone walked in, having just come from teaching his dance class. Shortly thereafter we began mingling again, and looking at the auction items. This silent auction stayed silent; no auctioneer this time. I got a couple items myself, a 2000 Cats calendar, originally sold during intermission for Broadway Cares, and LPs of the original London, Australian, and Hungarian cast recordings. Believe it or not, I actually have a turn table to play them on.
Soon after the auction ended we had to leave since the room was needed for another group. So we gathered outside the restaurant and pretty much blocked the sidewalk while we chatted. We all had shows to go to, but we didn't seem ready to part company. Jon Erik made one attempt to move our gathering off the sidewalk so we wouldn't be obstructing traffic, but he was unsuccessful. Finally we went our separate ways. Most of the party-goers, including Jon Erik, were seeing Rocky Horror Show, the brave souls.
Cindy, Jazz, Matt and I were seeing Kiss Me, Kate because Michael Gruber was in it. I had always been curious about the show anyway because of the Shakespeare connection. Michael was just added incentive to see it. I had ordered tickets for Matt and myself through telecharge.com and I clearly remember that the seats I purchased were in row C. But when we got to the theatre I looked at the tickets and saw that they were for seats in row A. How strange. This meant that we got an excellent view of the orchestra pit, and of course, were looking up everyone's noses. I found myself wishing that Vincent were with me; with the conductor so close I'm sure he would have derived great pleasure from critiquing his style and technique.
The show was immensely entertaining, though I found myself worrying about Michael. As Hortensio he sang in the quartet "Tom, Dick, or Harry" and as he was dancing around Bianca trying to woo her I noticed he had a very grim look on his face. This puzzled me as it didn't seem in character. Later in the show he had to lift over his head a girl who was in a recumbent position on the stage. I clearly saw him set himself for it, then grimace as he lifted. Oh dear, I thought to myself, Michael must be hurting. Thereafter, anytime the ensemble was on I was carefully watching Michael. (Like I wouldn't have been anyway.)
There were several intertwined stories in this show. By far the funniest was the one that involved two mob hit men. They made a typical mob pair: one was big and dumb while the other was smaller, brainier, and not a little resembling Boris Badenov. They stole every scene they were in, especially when they came on in hastily thrown together Shakespearean costumes. The woman playing Kate was threatening to walk out and they had a special interest in her staying, so they shadowed her on the stage and off to make sure she didn't escape. They were on during the scene of Kate and Petrucchio's wedding, and when a dove (or something) was symbolically released the big guy immediately shot it down. Just before it fell to the stage a whole flock of doves, spooked by the shot, took flight, thus giving an extremely goofy ending to the first act. Finally, the mob men's performance of "Brush up Your Shakespeare" was priceless. The audience kept bringing them back to encore, we didn't want to see them go.
Another favourite moment came in the second act. One character was talking about how he was going to be a running mate in the upcoming presidential election.
"Oh, with Truman?" his girlfriend asked.
"No, Dewey," he replied. "I know a winner when I see one!"
That's what I would call a laugh-gauge line. In all the stage shows I have been in my fellow performers and I always had several funny lines in the script that we would listen for to determine the responsiveness of the audience. If they laughed or even applauded, we knew we had a good crowd. But the interesting thing about that line is that it may not have been intended as a joke originally. After all, Kiss Me, Kate was written in 1948 and it was also in 1948 that Truman beat Dewey in the presidential race. Food for thought.
When the show was over Matt and I quickly worked our way through the crowd and out into the street. We found Cindy already at the stage door; somehow she managed to beat us there even though she had been up in the mezzanine. Jazz joined us soon and we settled down to wait for Michael.
He wasn't too long in coming. I spotted him as he walked out the stage door with his headphones on.
"There he is!" I cried. "Michael. Michael!"
I was just about to grab his arm when he turned to face me. The look he gave me was a little panicky, and I honestly don't think he recognized me at first. (Possibly the red hair threw him off.) But then he looked past me to Cindy and relief was very evident in his expression. Satisfied that he was among friends, he stayed and talked to us for a good while, even though he was obviously tired. That, we learned, was why he had such a hard countenance for most of the show.
I got his autograph and picture and we chatted for a bit. He was just about to leave when Cindy said something about the next show that he's going to and he had stay and talk about that. It's Red Hot & Blue, another Cole Porter show, which he'll be doing in New Jersey. It sounds interesting and I look forward to seeing it.
We parted ways, he going home, us returning to our hotel. We stayed up chatting for a good bit, but eventually the adrenaline rush wore off and we turned in for the night.
The next day was quite full. We were supposed to meet with Adas and a few others for brunch, but that turned into a lunch date. A late lunch even, and I was keeping a nervous eye on the time since Matt and I had tickets for the Fosse matinee. Eventually we had to leave without lunch in order to get to the theatre on time.
I had received a call from the Broadhurst Theatre about a month before the trip telling me that this performance, as well as others, would be taped for a video. I told Gordon this before I left and he said, "Don't forget to wave." Ha ha. Actually, Matt and I had excellent seats for being noticed by the camera, center orchestra five rows from the stage.
Now I have heard good things about Fosse and I knew it has a lot of dance in it, so I figured I would enjoy it. Well, not quite. The dance it has could best be classified as show dance, which I don't really find all that exciting. (My first love is classical ballet.) And as for the music, it's just bits and pieces from various Broadway shows, none of which I am familiar with. So I was bored for the most part. If the camera caught me at all it probably showed me clapping politely with a tight-lipped smile.
But it wasn't a complete waste of my money and time. There were a couple numbers that I liked, and more to the point, a couple dancers that I enjoyed watching. The dance that impressed me the most was the one with three couples, one male-female, one male-male, and one female-female. The male couple was particularly impressive as the two men (Ken Alan and Edwaard Liang) were about the same size and did an equal share of lifting. I've heard that this dance is considered offensive by some. Personally, I didn't find it nearly as distasteful as the number "Big Spender" which opened with all the women, dressed like hookers, coming forward and delivering cheesy pickup lines.
When the show was over I applauded diplomatically and cheered for the dancers I had liked best, namely Mr. Alan and Mr. Liang. Matt later told me that he had suspected I would find Alan's looks favourable. Geez, am I really that predictable?
Actually, Mom and I had a discussion on that when I got home. I was showing her my playbills and pointed to Ken Alan's picture, saying, "That's the cute one."
Mom looked for herself and retorted, "No, that's the cute one," pointing to the picture next to him, that of Brad Anderson.
I studied the photo, and I will own that Anderson is cute and has the better headshot, but it was Alan who impressed me on the stage after all.
Some of you probably know that the Broadhurst Theatre is across the street from the St. James Theatre, where I have happy memories of chatting with Michael Gruber after seeing Swing! Currently, however, it is home to the incredibly popular musical The Producers in which Jeffry Denman has a minor role. Much as I would love to see Jeffry in action again, tickets were nearly impossible to get. But Matt and I did wait outside the stage door for a while to see if we could catch him and at least talk to him. About fifteen to twenty minutes after the theatre doors had opened to expel the crowds, a well-dressed young man poked his head out and announced that Nathan Lane and Matthew Broderick were not planning to leave the theatre between shows (Well, I'm not interested in them, I thought), and he suspected some of the other actors would be staying as well (Ah, darn.). We waited a little longer anyway, but Jeffry didn't appear. I suppose we could have tried sending a note backstage to see if we could lure him out, but I don't know how well that would have been received. In the end we caught a cab back to the hotel to prepare for our next show.
At Matt's suggestion we were going to see Forbidden Broadway at the Douglas Fairbanks Theatre. I had gotten a taste of them before the trip and decided they are like the Capitol Steps of Broadway. This pleased me no end.
I have a confession to make: I am not really a Broadway fan. I consider most Broadway shows to be cheesy and/or stupid. (There are a few exceptions.) My one true love is Cats; if I go to see any other show it'll be because someone is in it who was once in Cats. So as you can imagine, I greatly enjoyed the roasting that went on in Forbidden Broadway.
The title of the show was 2001: A Spoof Odyssey, but the SF theme only lasted as long as the opening number, which was performed in futuristic white jumpers and jumpsuits with laser rifles as props. Besides the four stage performers (Carter Calvert, Joel Carlton, William Selby, and Gina Kreiezmar) there was also an onstage pianist, Glenn Gordon. This combined with the small size of the theatre gave it kind of a reduced Broadway effect. All the more appropriate I thought.
Granted I didn't get all of the jokes, but there were quite a few numbers I did enjoy. They reprised "Trouble in New York City", a song which has been updated since it was first recorded. For instance, you slap down eighty bucks instead of sixty to attend a show that you could just as well have watched on TV. And the "foreign actors creepin' into our Broadway shows" were Juliette Binoche and Brooke Shields. (Well, she's foreign in one sense anyway.)
I was terribly glad to have seen Kiss Me, Kate before this, otherwise I would not have fully appreciated that particular segment. Unfortunately, one of the songs was aimed directly at Brian Stokes Mitchell (Petrucchio) and Marin Mazzie (Kate); they have since left the show, to be replaced by Burke Moses and Carolee Carmello respectively. Geez, Broadway changes faster than even FB can keep up with.
Some things never become dated, though. Case in point, Carter Calvert reprised "Time I Said Goodbye" and she did an excellent job achieving the look of the doe-eyed, spaced-out Sarah Brightman. She didn't quite get the same unearthly effect in her voice, but it was close enough that we didn't care.
While we're on the subject of reprises, they also did their Lion King bit, beginning with the song "Circle of Mice". Joel Carlton came out dressed in what I think was intended to be an African shaman's costume. In addition to everything else, he appeared to have several wide strokes of bright paint on his face, a blue streak on each cheekbone, and an earthy-orange one down his nose. I wondered at this, because they seemed to be doing frequent and quick costume changes, with little or no time to remove extra makeup. I continued to stare at the streaks and eventually divined that they were not makeup at all, they were neon band-aid strips. How incredibly clever and resourceful!
Hmmm, I take it back about no sci-fi past the first number. I just remembered that they did a reference to the monolith from 2001: A Space Odyssey to intro the segment for Aida (the Elton John/Tim Rice version; Verdi must be spinning in his grave!) . It started with a "Dawn of Time" speech and someone in an ape suit enthralled with a black pillar, which was raised to reveal the "bitchy" Egyptian princess.
The entire show was peppered with jabs about Cats closing. One would think it would be old news by now, but apparently they couldn't bear to let a good joke go. It still gets a reaction after all. Examples of such:
Mr. Carlton, bewailing the closing of Miss Saigon, sang, "Why, God? Why such grief? Closing Cats was a relief…"
Ms.Calvert, referring to Aida, sang, "It's cheesy, it's cheesy as Cats."
And for the salt in the wound, Mr. Carlton sang about The Full Monty: "Let it show! Let it show! It's the last taboo ya know. If Cats had stripped they'd still be running!" Hmmm, interesting proposition…
I think Mr. Carlton was my favourite performer of the evening. Really all of them were good, and William Selby in particular had me in hysterics most of the time, especially with his wonderfully goofy portrayals of Mayor Giuliani (singing "It's a Jolly Holiday with Rudy") and Frank N. Furter (singing "Let's Ruin Times Square Again"). But Carlton wins out, partially because he's cuter ;~), but mainly because he seemed to have a wider acting range. He went from playing a sexy but sinister Cabaret emcee to portraying a simpering Elton John and then a fuming and fussy John La Chiusa and of course, the bizarre African shaman. And then there was his performance in the final number, "76 Hit Shows". At the end of that one they all ran offstage and came back with trombones, then began playing them badly. Of the four, Carlton was the only one who looked and sounded like he knew what he was doing; it was the "you have to be good to sound that bad" syndrome. So he plays the trombone. That would be the final reason why I liked him the best, I have a soft spot for trombone players.
After the show Matt and I each purchased the Spoof Odyssey CD, then walked to Sardi's for a late dinner. This was my first real meal of the day, you'd think I'd be starving, especially since we'd done a lot of walking. But I ordered a burger (with Swiss cheese, how ritzy) and fries, and true to form ended up eating only the fries and maybe a bite of the burger; the rest I had boxed. Geez…
We went back to the hotel and awaited the return of Cindy and Jazz, who had gone to a late show of Stomp. I was totally wiped by this time, but Matt was wired, strangely enough. (I thought I was the one that had espresso in lieu of lunch and then cappuccino with dinner.) I must have made poor conversation; I barely remember what we talked about. Cindy and Jazz returned and Matt left shortly thereafter. We turned in, but like teenage girls at a pajama party, continued to talk in the darkness for a while. And like the conversation at a pajama party, what we talked about doesn't bear repeating.
The next morning Cindy, Jazz, and I were up in time for nine AM Mass at St. Patrick's. (After seeing several medieval cathedrals in Germany, I must say this one seemed a trifle gaudy.) Afterwards we went back to the hotel to pack. Matt and I had tickets to see Stomp that afternoon so we met him in the lobby, checked our bags with the bellhop, then went looking for lunch.
Jazz and Cindy were planning to hang out at the Martin Beck Theatre and lie in wait for Michael while Matt and I were at our show. So when we were done with lunch we went looking for a Godiva chocolate shop at which we could buy him some goodies. (No, I didn't bake cookies this time.) Would you believe we couldn't find one? We asked directions several times and were told:
"It's around the corner in the middle of the block," or
"There's one between this street and that avenue," and so on.
We never did find one. In our frustration we finally backtracked to another chocolatier we had seen in our search where we bought him some gourmet chocolate-dipped Oreos. Talk about decadent.
That done, Matt and I caught a cab to the Orpheum Theatre. Anticipating that an all-percussion show would undoubtedly give me a serious migraine, I pre-medicated myself with two Aleve just before they let us in. It worked, too.
The show was…well, I'm not really sure how best to describe it, but I did like it. For those of you who don't know it is essentially a bunch of musical acts where the performers use as their instruments anything that will make a sound: brooms, mops, tin cans, matchboxes, newspapers, etc. Sort of John Cage-y, only better. It was like nothing I'd ever seen before.
The performers themselves were mostly black and mostly male. There were three lady performers, one of them white. There was also a white man. I mention this because the two Caucasians seemed to have personalities that set them a little apart from the others, the man more than the woman. She was represented as occasionally annoying, and usually getting the better of the men, but she seemed to more or less fit in. However the little bald white guy did not. He was often annoying or being annoyed by the other performers, and he several times tried to one-up the men. Given that they were all much bigger than he this was amusing to watch. The act that had me in total hysterics was when three of the men sent him screaming from the stage as they stomped out with oil drums strapped to their feet. They did their act, which involved much shouting and banging of sticks on their drums then tromped off. As soon as they were gone the little white guy came tramping out with coffee cans strapped to his feet, shrieking like a thing possessed.
The little white guy was Taro Alexander and he was my favourite. I also liked Davi Vieira who seemed to be sort of directing the show. He led the audience in a hand clapping act which started simple and gradually got more complicated. By watching his expressive face we could easily tell when he was disappointed by our attempts to copy him. A young child in the balcony added vocals to the percussion. Mr. Vieira was pleased with this at first, trying to incorporate it into the act, but eventually became annoyed when the kid wouldn't shut up.
My other favourite of the evening was Mindy Haywood, a tall and wiry young woman. She moved with such fluid grace and elegance across the stage, you knew she was either a trained dancer or possessed of exceptional natural talent. Or both.
After the show we took a cab back to the hotel to meet Cindy and Jazz. They had succeeded in catching Michael and gave him his present. "Oh, did you get me something for my waist?" he asked with a smile.
Collected our baggage and said goodbye to Matt who was flying back home. We caught a bus back to Cindy's, and returned to our respective homes the next day, much to my relief. Though my family immediately left on another excursion, taking me with them. I suppose my next adventure will be seeing Michael in Red Hot & Blue in New Jersey. Rest assured you will hear all about it.