Nothing For Now (Theater Archives)

Too Tired For Titles

I'm being more picky about my work calls now. No more manual labor for me; I'm signing up for stuff like light focusing and board operation.

For 6-8 hour shifts.

Okay, I'm a masochist. A greedy masochist.

Today I pretty much had an hour of class, half an hour of lunch, 4.5 more hours of class, and an hour for dinner, then went to Philadelphia with a couple of friends for a performance of Tony Kushner's Bright Room Called Day. We missed our train back to school by about 30 seconds, and so went and got smoothies and chocolate cake while we waited for the next one. It was very yummy, but we got back at 12:45am, which pretty much meant I blew my entire Friday without checking on my feeds. So I took care of those, checked my e-mail, signed up for those work calls, and now I'm really ready to sleep, even if I have about a pound of sugar in me from that smoothie and cake.

I have 2 papers due on Friday! (Masochist, masochist, masochist.) At least spring break comes right afterwards, and not a moment too soon.

Souvenir, Seascape, and Dog Sees God

As per tradition, during winter break I went to shows that were soon to close. In this case, they were Souvenir, starring (and I do mean starring) Judy Kaye, and Edward Albee's Seascape, featuring a wonderful ensemble of four. Both closed on Sunday, and also per tradition, I obviously delayed writing my reviews.

Hmm. While I'm at it, I'll also review Off-Broadway's Dog Sees God, which doesn't look like it's going to close anytime soon.

Home, where my mind's escaping...

I'm baaaack! *watches as America cringes in horror* After thinking I'd missed my plane, being delayed for 2 hours due to "mechanical problems" (that wasn't scary...), completing about 30 Sudoku puzzles, watching the heartwarming endings of A Beautiful Mind, Seabiscuit, and Cinderella Man all in a row, and being extorted for a $3 luggage cart (shame on you, JFK), I managed to drag my exhausted butt past Customs and get home. Woohoo!

I've received a few Chanukah presents already, including way too much chocolate, which I'm trying not to munch all at once. I also went to my precious library and took out Watchmen for a school essay, a book on identity and the Internet for another paper, the first book of Neal Stephenson's Baroque Cycle because what I need is another 900-page techno-historical fiction head trip, The Red and the Black because it's referenced in A Little Night Music and I'm pathetic enough to think of that as a Sondheim product endorsement, and Preludes and Nocturnes because I've delayed my reading of Sandman for far too long. *pant* *pant*

You know what else I want? SHOWS. Namely, Sweeney Todd. Like, now. *twitch* Also, I have many movies to see. Brokeback Mountain, The Producers, Memoirs of a Geisha, Munich, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, Syriana, Transamerica, Capote, The Dying Gaul, Match Point, Paradise Now, stuff I missed like Jarhead and Shopgirl if I can...uh, yeah. I'm not sure I even have that much money. BUT I WILL FIND A WAY. Because I'm back, baby!

Ian McKellen's panto and the Tower of London. Also, chocolate.

I'm really, really tired. Just thought I'd say that straightaway. I was once again bored out of my ever-lovin' mind in class (thank goodness term ends in a week), so after scarfing a tuna sandwich, I was glad to be off-campus.

More Thoughts on Sunday

In my ecstatic initial ramble, I forgot to mention a few relevant points about the Menier Sunday in the Park With George.

First, the design- the costumes were pretty much the same as in the original production- functional period wear for Act I, and extremely 80s dress for Act II, so the time periods could easily be established. The only difference I can think of is that Dot's dress didn't split open in the first song. It did, however have that convenient reversible bustle. :)

The sets were both simpler and more complex than those of the original production. There were no cutouts of monkeys, dogs, soldiers, or Georges, but what replaced them were excellent animated projections. Nothing too complex happened here- they usually had one simple movement that was employed at judicious times, usually for comic effect. The soldier would suddenly turn his head to look at something, the dog would roll in the dirt, and "George" would start gesticulating as he spoke with a potential sponsor. It was all nicely executed and not too enamored of itself- the effects never, ever came close to superseding the book or score. Projections were used for the backdrops as well, making it easy to move from La Grande Jatte to the museum and back. It was especially fun to see George "sketch" a few initial lines on a white canvas in the beginning of the show, and after all the "color and light" of the two acts, to see him once again standing happily in the middle of a completely blank room, filled with possibility. The stage was his canvas, which is exactly how it's supposed to be.

Finally, I'm pretty sure there were a few small lyric changes, most noticably in "Putting It Together." Did Sondheim revise his lyrics for the first London production of this show, or for any occassion at all? Or are there words in the DVD but not the OBC?

My Totally Awesome Day

Okay, so the day didn't start off very promisingly.

Sunday in the Park With George

There is no French horn.

That marks probably the greatest objection I can muster to the Menier Chocolate Factory's revival of Sunday in the Park With George. And it's not as insignificant as it may seem- the French horn playing the "Sunday" theme is one of the most distinctive and lovely parts parts of the original orchestration. In just two notes it becomes clear exactly which show it is you're watching. But nevermind. Outside of a few blips, the backstage "pit" of a piano, keyboard, violin, cello, and clarinet handled the difficult score acceptably. And really, I have no idea if people who haven't listened to the score more times than is strictly healthy would even know what they're missing.

I have listened to the score that many times, and more, and this is the first time I've walked into a show knowing it end-to-end quite this well. So I think it speaks pretty well of Daniel Evans and Anna Jane Casey that they managed to carve out their own George and Dot in my mind, separate from the original performances of Mandy Patinkin and especially Bernadette Peters. (Though surely their incogruous- for me- English accents helped.) Evans bore the greater visual and vocal resemblence to his predecessor, but he handled the various voices of "The Day Off" in his own way, and with aplomb. The only time I wished he was more like Patinkin was in "Putting it Together", which wasn't quite quick and staccatto enough to live up to its showstopper potential. But for most of the second act, I was perfectly happy that he was just himself, because he made the second George into more of a real person than I've experienced before.

Ms. Casey had the more difficult job in my eyes, because getting past the performance of Bernadette Peters in my mind is a virtual impossibility. Peters owns the role of Dot, coming through in all her warmth and humanity even on the CD alone. So whoever cast this production got past the problem by going around it- brown-haired and angular, Ms. Casey looked and sounded so different from the original Dot that comparisons between the two eventually fell by the wayside. (There's a reason she sang, "If my bust were larger" instead of "smaller" during "Color and Light.") She wasn't as vocally powerful as Ms. Peters, which I regretted in "We Do Not Belong Together", and she didn't plumb quite so many laughs out of her lines, but I think given more time she can do it; her dramatic chops were out in full force the whole night. And-dare I say it? I like her Marie as much as I liked the original, maybe even more. Out of the wheelchair and showing glimmers of mischief and strength despite her physical frailty (she walks slowly with a cane here), we can see just why George adores her even as she annoys the crap out of him.

The rest of the ensemble was solid, though once again I could hear a few jokes being overlooked. I especially liked Alasdair Harvey's foul-mouthed, limping Boatman and sensible, beleaguered Dennis. He delivered his excuse for quitting his job in the second act hilariously. Also, I can't believe I'm saying this about a child actor, but the girl playing Louise really could have been more obnoxious.

The infighting, gossip, ugliness, and threads of discontent running between the characters were all there. And when they all came together through the force of George's artistic inspiration for "Sunday" and its reprise, everything in the show was beautiful and made sense. I've never seen such a perfect depiction of the effects of art on its subjects.

Finally, I'd like to note that I can understand now, more clearly than before, the age-old claim that this show would have been better off with just its first act. Once we've finally gotten to know and understand all the people in "Sunday on the Island of La Grande Jatte", they disappear for Act II in favor of the denizens of the modern art world. It's hard to start over and try to figure out a new set of characters and motivations halfway through a show, and the relatively downbeat content of this act makes it hard to get through until "Move On." But the fact remains that George is an essential mirror-image of his ancestor Georges, and you need them both in order to form the show's glorious ending, a final synthesis of art and life, combined without compromise. It's a moment of perfect theater, and that's why I was willing to trudge my way to that theater four times over a period of six days just to get my tickets.

Theater of the Absurd

Jesse Tyler Ferguson performing "I'm Not That Smart" doesn't get any less funny on the 18th listen. It isn't quite complete without the, er...visual effects, but that doesn't diminish the hilarity of Ferguson's delivery. Just file that under "facts you really don't care about."

Anyway, the theme of the last few shows I've seen has been an often self-conscious silliness. The Banger's Flopera was the least accomplished of the three, a mostly heavy-metal tirade with lyrics that were mind-numblingly obscene when they weren't incomprehensible. The writers showed a fertile imagination for profanity, and occassional glints of real wit showed through, but this updated version of The Beggar's Opera was mostly puzzling. By the time a character put on a rubber mask of Bush Jr., I didn't even care about figuring it out.

SILENCE!, on the other hand, was about as polished as a Fringe show gets, and had the blessings of an eager, sold-out audience and a cast studded with Broadway performers. This was the quintessential post-Urinetown Fringe satire, the kind of show where Dierdre Goodwin gets underused then has a big dance number lamenting that fact. (First Spamalot, now this. Are underused divas to 2005 what, oh, I don't know...gay musicians were to 2003?) Anyway, the cast was uniformly funny if not uniformly good at singing, and Christopher Gattelli's direction and choreography were very sharp and funny- Lecter's "dream ballet" was a real hoot and his escape from prison was downright ingenious. Too many of the jokes were overextended, but in such a lighthearted atmosphere, it didn't matter much. Special props to Spelling Bee's Lisa Howard, who used her gorgeous soprano and comic chops to their full effect playing a Senator and her soon-to-be skinned daughter.

Finally, I caught a preview of The Great American Trailer Park Musical, a show that really needs to decide what it's going to be before it opens. The plot is standard stuff- a toll collector in a frustrating marriage has an affair with the stripper next door, and wackiness ensues. This show's real assets are its cast and score- the direction and choreography need work. When it satirized trailer park culture, the show just came off as condescending and cruel to its characters, a huge no-no if you want them to keep the audience's interest and sympathy. But when it stopped being so self-consciously "hip," it became divinely silly. Picture, if you will, Shuler Hensley's hapless toll collector breaking out into a disco dance solo for the Act I finale. Or Kaitlin Hopkins, as his agoraphobic wife, singing about their troubled marriage using the infomercial vernacular.

To be sure, the show has troubles outside of its tonal inconsistencies. Wayne Wilcox is underpowered as the marker-sniffing maniac Duke, and though Shuler Hensley has just the right woebegone look and ability to instantaneously generate audience sympathy that his role demands, his songs are completely unsuited to his classically trained voice, and it shows. Orfeh's powerfully sung stripper needs to be more clearly outlined as a character, as does Marya Grandy's third of the Greek chorus. But most of the problems are exactly the kinds of things that get cleared up during previews, and from what I've heard the creative team has been doing a good job of addressing concerns so far. Hopefully The Great American Trailer Park Musical will bloom into the endearing fluffball of a show it has the potential to be.

Fun Downtown

So what am I going to see at the Fringe? In addition to the aformentioned The Mayor Who Would Be Sondheim, I'm going to The Banger's Flopera - A Musical Perversion, and SILENCE! The Musical, a musical version of The Silence of the Lambs.

I realized right after I bought my tickets what an incredible hypocrite I am- I'm always trying to get others to remember that plays as well as musicals exist in theater, and here I am with hundreds of choices going for three musicals. Ah, well. I'm always a sucker for shows with singing serial killers.

Fringey Fringey Fringe Fringe

That right, everybody! It's time for the annual New York International Fringe Festival! Do you feel that your theatrical experience is severely lacking in self-conscious musicals, one-person confessionals, masturbation, hand puppets, and masturbation by hand puppets? Then by golly, Fringe Festival is the place for you!

Okay, so I'm not going to watch Finger Love *shudder*, but I do have my heart set on The Mayor Who Would Be Sondheim. If you're looking for something at the intersection of the political and the theatrical, you'll find no shortage of material at Fringe. If you're looking for onstage nudity...well, same thing. Heck, sometimes you get them all at the same time! With dance numbers!

At $15 a ticket, even the cheapest viewer can afford to take a few risks here- and since nearly all the shows are new and only on for a few nights, risk-taking is the order of the day. Last year I hit gold with Le Comedie du Bicyclette, got disappointed by The Passion of George W. Bush, and kicked myself for passing on Dog Meets God. This year? Who knows. But with 184 shows playing in just over 2 weeks, there's sure to be something interesting.

Lenses

After weeks of reading Oscar Wilde, Chaim Potok, Agatha Christie, and Philip Roth, I finally said, "Enough with Englishmen and Jews" and deliberately set out to get other kinds of authors in the library today. Naturally, I ended up snatching more than I'll probably be able to read by the due date, but that's okay.

The results of my diversity-oriented haul? A bunch of August Wilson plays, the book of A Little Night Music, and judicious sprinklings of Neal Stephenson, Gabriel Garcia-Marquez, Roger Angell and Yasunari Kawabata. Some sci-fi and baseball essays should be a good mental pick-me-up. Of course, I have to finish Zuckerman Bound first. It's good stuff, but there's only so much Jewishness even I can take.

Taking advantage of a newly widened rush policy, I saw Glengarry Glen Ross last night. To be completely honest, I may or may not post a review. But I will say it was interesting to see a play after seeing the movie adaptation. For some reason, I usually like to go into theatrical productions with as little back information as possible, but if a movie is based on a book I'll try to do the reading first. Just me being strange, I suppose.

Oh, and I knew the Yankees' division lead wouldn't last. But sometimes it stinks being right.

Rain, Rain, Go Away

I'm going to Shakespeare in the Park. Weather gods, please don't ruin this for me.

Ragtime

When the name of a great book also happens to be the name of a musical genre, it seems to cry out for musicalization. Of course, E.L. Doctorow's Ragtime is no ordinary story, but Terrence McNally's book somehow manages to transform the sprawling tale into a slightly less sprawling show that's well-served by Lynn Ahrens and Stephen Flaherty's score. The show, in turn, is being exceedingly well-served by the current production at the Paper Mill Playhouse.

The scenery is spare and minimalistic, putting all the focus on the performers and music. Thankfully, they more than stand up under that scrutiny. The glorious Rachel York is a radiant, graceful Mother, and with her clear soprano she captures every nuance of the character's journey from smiling housewife to independent, assertive, free-thinking woman. Her delivery of "Back to Before" was truly fierce, and the audience could hardly wait to applaud her when it was over.

I last saw Ms. York in Dessa Rose, another Ahrens and Flaherty show that I couldn't help but compare unfavorably to Ragtime as I watched it. Kenita R. Miller, who understudied the title character that day, also appeared in Ragtime as Sarah. Sounding uncannily like Audra McDonald, she had a sweet chemistry with her Coalhouse Walker, Quentin Earl Darrington. I felt that Darrington was the weakest of the leads, but only by a fraction of a degree. His vocals just couldn't live up to those of Brian Stokes Mitchell, who originated the role, but I could have lived with that if he hadn't gone flat a few times.

Neal Benari was a charming Tateh, Shonn Wiley sang wonderfully as Younger Brother, Matthew Scott was an appropriately impish Houdini, and Justin Lee Miller exuded dignity as Booker T. Washington. There are too many cast members to name individually, but suffice to say that all the performances ranged from good to great.

Stafford Arima's direction was fluid and lively, which served to counteract the sprawling nature of the material. And I don't know how much of Liza Genarro's choreography was inspired by Graciela Daniele's work in the original production, but it was very good, and sometimes outright wonderful. The staging of the opening number was about as close to perfection as you can get in theater, with lyrics, music, and dance all speaking to the themes and characters of the show. I don't know much about dance, but I do know that all the choreography I've seen on Broadway lately doesn't seem much more than adequate. So watching this production made me want to shout, "Look! Dance that actually says something!"

Hearing Aherns and Flaherty's score well-played by a live orchestra under the direction of David Loud was a joy, and if I sometimes wished there were a few more ensemble members to make the sound truly epic, it wasn't enough to really diminish that enjoyment. Paper Mill has really done well with this production, and I couldn't be happier I braved the confusion of the New Jersey Transit train system to see it.

Fireflies In Unexpected Places

Only a couple of people will even get the point of this entry, but what the heck.

I heard this news a while ago, but didn't make the connection. Guess who's taking over the role of Lancelot in Spamalot while Hank Azaria is out?

Alan Tudyk. Yes, that Alan Tudyk.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to laugh until my sides split.

ETA- Okay, only one person will get this, but: Eeeeeee!!

Catch Up

Okay, I realize I didn't exactly post for...well, a month. I started a bunch of entries, never finished them, and kept telling myself I'd write again once I did. Anyway, that excuse only works for so long, so here's the roundup of what I've done between leaving school and my last entry:

Shows watched:
Perseus
The Apple Tree
Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?
Dirty Rotten Scoundrels
The Pillowman
Spamalot
The Light in the Piazza
Doubt

Books read:
V for Vendetta, by Alan Moore
America (The Book): A Citizen's Guide to Democracy Inaction, by Jon Stewart et al.
Humboldt's Gift, by Saul Bellow
A Small Town in Germany, by John le Carre
Everything is Illuminated, by Jonathan Safran Foer
In the Beginning and Davita's Harp, both by Chaim Potok
The Big Four, by Agatha Christie
The Golem: As Told By Elie Wiesel, by Elie Wiesel
Mrs. Dalloway, by Virginia Woolf

I'm currently in the middle of reading Zadie Smith's White Teeth. I've gotten my hands on a copy of the original London recording of A Little Night Music, which has such glorious sound quality that listening to it is akin to discovering that score all over again. Thanks to winter_baby, I've watched all of Firefly and Veronica Mars, and I'm starting in on Wonderfalls. I've been working in web design, listening to every Yankees game I can despite the team's overwhelming mediocrity, and generally trying to squeeze everything I can out of this summer.

And today? I donated blood, so I'm a bit light-headed. But at least I have an excuse to be sedentary for the rest of the day, other than my general laziness. In conclusion: the Yankees really do suck, the Tonys are mediocre, Veronica Mars (along with Scrubs) is the best show you're not watching, Saul Bellow's appeal escapes me, and Jennifer Holliday performing "And I Am Telling You" is about as close as you can come to a religious experience in musical theater.

Stormy Weather

I want to go to an outdoor performance of Twelfth Night this weekend. Naturally, it's going to rain.

Happiness

Big giant Sondheim concert? Playing on my computer right now. Sure, I'd rather be listening to it in New York, but what the heck. Thank you, XM Sattelite Radio, for giving out free trials.

Because you know what? Right now I'm listening to Sondheim talking about adapting musicals to film, and the next number's going to involve Joanna Gleason. And later tonight, George Hearn and Angela Lansbury are going to sing "A Little Priest," which could quite possibly cause me to die of a joy aneurysm.

As Joss Whedon said to the man himself- "I know all your songs by heart. But I'm not a stalker."

Honest. :)

My Spring Vacation in Numbers

Okay, so it wasn't really spring by any stretch of the imagination, and it fell too early for my taste, but this past week was a vacation, and I really think I used it pretty well.

What I did on my spring vacation:
Shows seen: 2
Books read: 2
Books not read: 2
Busses missed: 3
Lectures attended: 1
Hours of television watched: 25

Now, on to the details. The shows seen were The Producers, still going strong with Richard Kind bringing his air of wounded dignity to the role of Max Bialystock, and Dessa Rose, a very promising new Ahrens and Flaherty musical about the pregnant leader of a slave rebellion, a Southern belle abandoned by her husband, and the other people in their lives, past and present. I'm really resenting my "don't talk during previews" policy right now, but let's just say that with some work on Act I, this could be a Best Musical winner in a year.

The books read were A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, by David Eggers, whose dense and self-conscious prose didn't quite live up to its title but didn't need to, and The Bronte Myth, by Lucasta Miller, which was a pretty interesting look at the history of the perception of the Bronte sisters, especially Charlotte and Emily.

My books not read were the only major disappointment of the break. I just didn't give myself enough time to finish them, I guess. They were Jonathan Safran Foer's Everything is Illuminated and Davita's Harp, by old favorite Chaim Potok.

The busses missed were all the same line, of course- the one from my stop to Port Authority. I missed my bus twice in the morning (once because I was 2 minutes late, and once despite being on time) and once at night (because I was directed to the wrong gate by an oh-so-helpful Help Desk employee). Maybe I should add another statistic to the list- Total time spent standing in sub-freezing weather waiting for a bus that won't come: 1 hour. And that doesn't count the time spent waiting indoors.

The lecture attended was one with the aformentioned Lynn Ahrens and Stephen Flaherty, the book writer/lyricist and composer, respectively, of Dessa Rose. Despite some hangups due to the fact that certain audience members had a hard time hearing, it was an interesting and rather engaging discussion.

And the television seen comprises 7 episodes each of Gilmore Girls and Scrubs, the Candide concert on Great Performances, Robert Altman's The Company, and the entirety of The 10th Kingdom, an old mini-series I adored when it originally ran.

When I wasn't watching or listening or standing and waiting, I went to 2 grocery shopping trips and 1 sorta-family dinner, baked 1 loaf of banana bread, and told my brother to turn down the volume on his video games 3,629 times.

And that was my spring vacation in numbers.

My Name Is...

I am a form-filling machine, baby. Between all my foreign study forms and filling out applications in triplicate for my major, minor, and the honors program, I've written my name down so many times my fingers are still twitching.

Anyway, in an attempt to extend my thinking beyond "oh my God I have midterms next week," I bought tickets to The Light in the Piazza in June. Thank you, Lincoln Center, for letting me buy student-price tickets in advance. The rush thing is fun, but actually knowing I'll have good seats? That's a nice feeling.

Beowulfs in Abundance

My Old English professor is a big-time "Beowulf" fan, and much to our amusement, today he showed us a couple of pieces of "Beowulf"-related merchandise he'd picked up.

First on the list was the "Beowulf" comic book. I kid you not, folks- this was Beowulf as Viking superhero, complete with a scantily clad female sidekick. Unferth was cast as the slimy villian- which is sort of appropriate, actually- but the great part was seeing the Scandinavian hero fight off space aliens as if he were Superman or something. Hilarious.

Now, you'd think nothing could top off a red-headed Beowulf spouting horrible comics dialogue. But you'd be wrong. Because the second thing our prof brought in was a tape of the "Beowulf" musical.

*insert screams of horror here*

He played a few choice ditties for us, including an upbeat "Unferth mocks Beowulf" number that reminded me of a cut-rate "Master of the House," a big wannabe-Andrew Lloyd Webber love ballad for Welthow, and best of all, Grendel's distorted growls singing about how much the partying at Herot irritates him. It was unbelievably cheesy all the way though- the class was practically rolling on the floor from laughter.

Of course, this is exactly the stuff that gives musical theater a bad name, but I made myself feel better by remembering that Sondheim was at his prime when this was written. And we don't judge all movies by Battlefield Earth, do we?

Weird Things

Weird Facts of the Day:

The Ron Rifkin who played Herr Schultz in the Cabaret revival is the same Ron Rifkin who plays Sloane in Alias. Eek.

Michelle Pawk is in Democracy- but only as a recorded voice announcing voting results. Otherwise, the cast is all male.

Back to Baseball

Man, has this been a weird autumn for baseball. The Red Sox won the World Series, Derek "worst shortstop in baseball" Jeter won his first Gold Glove, and now Roger Clemens has won the National League Cy Young Award.

Okay, that last part isn't so weird- Clemens has won so many postseason awards, giving one to him is like a yearly tradition. But dude- the guy was retired. He's 42 years old. And Randy Johnson, who probably deserved the award more, is 41. Gotta love those old guys. So, uh, anyone really think Clemens won't come back to the Astros in January?

***

In other news no one cares about, the cast recording of Parade is really good, even if Carolee Carmello has a mild case of Julia Murney syndrome- lovely timbre but an occassionally nasty bleating vibrato. "The Old Red Hills of Home" and "A Rumblin' and a Rollin'" are especially good.

Some of the orchestrations in the OBC of Les Miserables are frighteningly outdated. But I guess hearing a score again for the first time in 10 years can be startling that way. And the songs are still good, even if Colm Wilkinson made me cringe sometimes. :)

Between the lynching and the persecution and people getting shot left and right, I really have a penchant for depressing musicals, don't I?

What I'm reading today: The Human Body Shop: The Engineering and Marketing of Life, by Andrew Kimbrell

The Week That Was

My week of vacation involved four shows and a lot of sushi. In other words, it was good. In between California rolls and eel, I saw Movin' Out, Twelve Angry Men, Last Easter, and Avenue Q. So since I need a writing exercise to occupy my mind, I'm going to review them, plus some of the shows I saw in the summer- Assassins, Chicago, Frozen, and I Am My Own Wife. I don't feel so bad about adding spoilers to some of those reviews now since most of the shows in question are closed. Or, you know, Oscar-winning movies. :)

So what did I do when I wasn't watching shows? I hung around the city a lot, so I got to see Curt Schilling and Johnny Damon exiting a building under heavy police protection to get into the team bus. It was the day after Schilling blew his first ALCS start, so he was getting a lot of Bronx cheers. Johnny Damon had his hair tied up in a half-ponytail like a girl. Ah, good times. (As I write the Yankees are losing Game 7 8-1. So let me keep my happy memories.)

Other than that, I slept a lot. And I ate even more. After a while, it's easy to forget there's real food in the world, and that the stuff they serve in the dining hall usually doesn't qualify. Strangely, my pants are looser now than they've been in a while. I'm going to need to invest in belts.

A Question and an Answer

What do Hugh Jackman and Matt Damon have in common? Lets see: they're both actors, both ridiculously good-looking, both played amnesiac ex-assassins who killed evil Brian Cox, and oh yes- how could I forget?

They both gave Barbara Walters a lap dance yesterday.

So. Not. Fair.

Playing on the Periphery

In the name of art, independence, and $15 tickets, I'm going to see 3 shows at the Fringe Festival, which is currently going on all over downtown New York. The most famous recent product of the festival is Urinetown, which went on to a successful Broadway run that only ended when its theater was demolished. (Sad story, ain't it? But at least it's touring now.)

So in the spirit of a musical about a world in which people must pay for the privilege to pee, these are the shows I'm watching:

The Passion of George W. Bush, a self-described "musical journey to the spiritual center of our beloved President." Given that the site provided a link to Bush or Chimp?, I suspect that this is my kind of show.

Andru's Head, an "indie rock musical about a disembodied head who hosts a public access children's show which is co-opted by a mad corporate baddie."

Le Comedie du Bicyclette, a musical about "an American whose bike breaks down in a French village, where he encounters rude repairmen, disturbing puppets, tourists from Holland and Texas, unsettling cabaret performers, and the god of bicycles."

I've heard good things about Andru and Bicyclette, and I took Passion purely on the basis of its title. But that meant I had to pass up such gems as Believe in Me: A Bigfoot Musical, which was sold out; Infertility: The Musical That's Hard to Conceive; and Young Zombies in Love. Not to mention a sock puppet version of Showgirls.

Of course, there's more serious fare, as well, from opera to beat poetry. With 200 shows, there's something for everyone.

So...anyone want to watch Dog Sees God with me? It's a strange take on what the Peanuts would be like if they grew up, and purportedly really good.

Anyone?

Anyone?

Man, I'm just hopelessly weird, aren't I?

When Interests Collide

A little note on today's Yankees game from the San Francisco Chronicle:

Rock and Roll

A few years ago I finally went to see Rent on Broadway. I was seriously disappointed. The music was so-so and overamplified, the ending was one of the cheapest cop-outs I've ever seen in a musical, the singers couldn't enunciate to save their lives, and the characters, with the exception of Angel, mostly seemed like self-absorbed pricks. I actually caught myself wishing Mark and Roger would just get their squatting asses evicted already. I don't think that was the show's intent.

That said, the show had its good points. Sweet-tempered Angel was a sympathetic character, and I was moved by his fate. The songs "Will I?" and "I'll Cover You" (especially the reprise) were good. "The Tango Maureen" was entertaining, if not that great a song. Oh, and I'm a sucker for "Seasons of Love." The character of Joanne was occasionally tolerable, as well. All in all, I thought, maybe I didn't like the show because I didn't see the now almost-legendary original cast.

So last week I got the OBC of Rent. And sadly, it wasn't much better than what I remembered. I do like the singing voice of Jesse L. Martin, who played Collins, and his anguish during the reprise of "I'll Cover You" is palpable. I'm softening a bit to "Santa Fe." Idina Menzel's scream-singing is actually appropriate in some parts of "Over the Moon" and "Finale". And "Take Me or Leave Me" strikes me as a pretty good song being mangled by its singers.

But man, the leads drive me crazy. Daphne Rubin-Vega's characterization of Mimi is all right, but I can't stand her raspy voice. I have a permanent soft spot for Anthony Rapp because of his sweet portrayal of the title character in You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown, and he's my favorite of the three leads, but the stuff he sings isn't much good. And the worst of them is Adam Pascal's Roger. (I'm so sorry, Mike.) He doesn't seem to have any tone of voice except "enraged anguish." I know that teenage girls are just suckers for brooding angsty guys, but he never lightens up. Ever. I am a teenage girl, and I can't stand it. It's amazing that anyone wants to hang around Roger at all- Mimi must have thought he was really cute to stay with him after all his irrational jealousy episodes.

This isn't entirely the fault of Rapp, Rubin-Vega, and Pascal, however. The songs they sing are the worst of the bunch, and the recitative isn't much better. The fiftieth time Pascal and Rubin-Vega sang "I should tell you" I almost smashed my iPod. And the tentative attraction the two were trying to convey in "Light My Candle" was ruined by the song itself- its only high point was when Mimi caught Roger staring at her ass. No wonder the secondary characters of Collins, Angel and Joanne were so much more sympathetic.

Oh, and I can't like Idina Menzel. I listened to her in Wicked, listened to her in Rent, and listened to her in The Wild Party, and didn't like her in any of them. I just hate her voice, her style, everything. And I'm not sorry.

Oh, and I have to add a short side note on Andrew Lippa's version of The Wild Party. Any composer who can insert an electric guitar into a piece of 1920's pastiche and make it sound cool rather than completely wrong is a good composer in my book. But seriously, that musical needed a better cast, especially in the leads. You know, leads who can actually sing? Sing well? Oh, never mind.

My point is, if you want a rock-and-roll musical, don't look to Rent. Try Hedwig and the Angry Inch instead. John Cameron Mitchell is brilliant and has no operatic pretensions, and Hedwig is a rock musical that actually rocks. A rare bird, indeed.

What I'm reading today: All Creatures Great and Small, by James Herriot

Caroline, or Change

Nothing ever happens underground in Louisiana, because there is no underground in Louisiana- only underwater. Except here, in the Gellman house in the town of Lake Charles in 1963. The Gellman house has a basement laundry room, and that is where Caroline, or Change begins.

The situation seems mundane enough- the Gellman's maid, Caroline, played by Tonya Pinkins, sings as she starts to load the washing machine. Everything changes when the washing machine, in the form of Capathia Jenkins, starts singing back.

This is a musical where not just the washer, but the dryer, radio, bus, and even the moon have human forms that sing to and with the other characters. It gives everything a slightly whimsical, fairy-tale feel, which a good counterpoint to the main character. Caroline Thibodeaux is mean, and she is tough- she says so herself. A 39-year-old divorcee with 3 children at home and 1 in Vietnam, she has to be that way. But somehow, despite her constant crankiness, young Noah Gellman (Harrison Chad) has taken a liking to her. She lets him light her cigarette once a day.

Everything changes when Noah's widowed father (David Costabile) marries his wife's best friend from New York, the well-intentioned Rose. Veanne Cox, though by far the weakest singer in an excellent company, does an wonderful job of playing a woman who is trying desperately to make a new life in an unfamiliar environment, only to be thwarted at every turn. Her new husband always locks himself up with his clarinet, her stepson hates her, and Caroline is as brusque to her as she is to everyone else. Hoping to become a mother to Noah while assuaging her liberal guilt about employing an underpaid black maid, Rose declares a new policy: if Caroline finds change in Noah's pants' pockets when she's going the laundry, she can keep it.

This sets off all the conflicts in Caroline's story- with her employers, with Noah, with her headstrong daughter, Emmie (Anika Noni Rose), with fellow maid Dotty Moffett (Vanessa A. Jones, in for Chandra Wilson), and with herself. Change is coming, set off by the change in Noah's pockets, and paralleling the changes about to be brought on by JFK's assassination and the civil rights movement. Ever since her divorce, Caroline has hardened herself. Can she change with the times, or is she doomed to be left behind?

This is a bit of an oddball concept for a musical, I admit, but Tony Kushner and Jeanine Tesori's score make it work. Caroline is a sung-through work, with recitative mixed in with semi-distinct songs. With the exception of Veanne Cox, which I'll address later, the entire cast is extremely vocally strong. From Chuck Cooper's thunderous baritone to Rose's clear soprano, it's a pleasure to hear all of them sing.

The inanimate objects all have especially strong voices, perhaps because they don't have to act their songs so much. As I mentioned, Chuck Cooper has a spectacular deep baritone that goes into bass territory on occassion. Pulling double duty as the sorrowful Bus and the slightly evil Dryer, he does a sensational job. Aisha de Haas is appropriately clear, bright, and lovely as the Moon. The the Radio is played by the fine Supremes-like trio of Tracy Nicole Chapman, Marva Hicks, and Ramona Keller. And Capathia Jenkins is also good in the smaller part of the Washing Machine.

As for the human characters, they're as diverse and interesting a bunch as I've seen in any story. David Costabile made the smallest impression of the leads, but I guess that means he did a good job. His character, the grief-stricken Stuart Gellman, is always withdrawing into the background, and spends more time playing his clarinet than actually speaking. As his new wife, Rose Stopnick Gellman, Veanne Cox is just wonderful. I mentioned before that she's a weak singer, but to some extent that seems to be intentional. As a New Yorker transplanted into Louisiana, Rose is out of touch with her surroundings, so her singing sounds atonal and harsh compared to everyone else's. But Cox's acting is extremely affecting; she makes the beleaguered Rose into the most sympathetic character in the show.

Leon G. Thomas III and Marcus Carl Franklin have perhaps the smallest parts, as Caroline's youngest children Jackie and Joe, but they do a fine job in "Roosevelt Petruchius Coleslaw," the kids' big song. Harrison Chad is quite good as the sad, lonely Noah Gellman, who looks up to Caroline because she's strong enough to beat up his dad. And Anika Noni Rose is simply wonderful as Caroline's oldest daughter, Emmie, a spirited, optimistic wannabe civil rights activist who's determined to be at the forefront of every change. Vanessa A. Jones, filling in for Chandra Wilson, sang beautifully in the part of Caroline's fellow maid and friend, Dotty Moffett, who decides to change with the times by going to night school.

Alice Playthen and Reathel Bean don't get a chance to do much as Noah's paternal grandparents, but they execute what they have well. Larry Keith gets his moments during the Gellman's Hanukah party, and makes full use of them, drawing a fine portrait of an extreme Socialist (perhaps a Communist?) who wants change to come even more quickly than it already is.

Then, of course, there is Tonya Pinkins in the almost thankless role of Caroline Thibodeaux. The role has been compared to that of Rose in Gypsy, especially since "Lot's Wife" is an 11 o'clock number comparable in its power to "Rose's Turn." This comparison both is and isn't valid, for reasons I can't completely go into without giving away the ending of the show. They are both strong single women with children, though Rose is more overbearing. Neither has many friends. But what strikes me is that Rose is more instantly likeable than Caroline despite the fact that she's a much worse person. Rose is horrible stage mother, driving her children to perform without any regard for what they think. Caroline's worst crimes are generally being harsh and rude to everyone around her. Maybe because Rose has more charm, the audience likes her better. I don't know.

Caroline is the most stiff and unbending of the main characters, suspicious of all change. There are hints throughout the show that she wasn't always this bitter and frowning, but her harsh life turned her that way. But the loss of dignity that comes with taking change from Noah's pockets is what starts to chip away at Caroline's facade, which finally collapses in a roar of anguish in "Lot's Wife." By then, it doesn't matter that Caroline is mean- the audience understands her. And Pinkins deserves much of the credit for that.

Similarly, Tesori's score starts out difficult. The music is influenced by everything from the blues to klezmer, but it requires concentration, as do Kushner's lyrics. The show is hard to accept at first- the singing appliances, the complex music, the unsympathetic main character- but as it builds, it becomes better and better. Musical ideas and phrases are repeated in key places, holding the score together. Songs blend into recitative and back again. By the time the rousing Act I closer "Roosevelt Petruchius Coleslaw" comes along, the show's spell has been set, and it's a beautiful sight to see, as Noah, Caroline, and the Thibodeaux children sing, with the Moon smiling benevolently above.

Because of this gradual build, Act II passes much more smoothly than Act I despite the fact that Act I is the setup and Act II is Caroline falling apart. By the time the show ends, dozens of ideas, musical, literary, political and philosophical, are fermenting together, and it's a wonderful mix. I loved Caroline, or Change. It's a difficult show to get to know, but it's worth the effort it takes.

I Hate People

I bought tickets to Assassins for the 17th, a day before it closes due to poor ticket sales. The tickets are crappy, but I would consider dangling by my arms for 2 hours to watch a really good production of Sondheim. I don't get it- why wouldn't anyone buy tickets to this show?

The score is great. It isn't up to the sublime levels of Sweeney Todd and A Little Night Music, but it has its share of gems. "The Gun Song" is just wonderful, on par with anything Sondheim has written in his career. The production is by all accounts excellent- Joe Mantello has had no shortage of accolades for his direction, and the design aspects of the show have been acclaimed as well. And the talent is just wonderful, a great ensemble cast. The show won 5 Tonys, for crying out loud. Why aren't they selling tickets?

Is it the title? The complete and utter lack of dancing girls, 50+ years after Oklahoma was dissmissed because it had "no gags, no gals, no chance"? Or is it the lack of a love story, perhaps? The whole thing is incomprehensible to me. This production was widely praised by critics and word-of-mouth, it won every award in the book, it's politically relevent, it's written by one of the finest American composers of all time, and...it's closing after a few months.

I am not a theater snob. I can't be, not when Assassins is closing but Bombay Dreams is still open. There's nothing to be snobby about. I would hope that The Frogs is a smash, but by all accounts it's a fast-moving, highly literate production filled with political satire.

It doesn't have a chance.

Sad Little Addiction

So my plans to take a summer class at Columbia have fallen through, leaving me with four days a week free and all my summer wages unspent.

And all I care about is seeing shows. *sob* This is getting a little pathetic. But Assassins is closing on the 18th...*twitch*

I'll be back later. Need to go to Ticketmaster. Now.

Wonder of Wonders

Miracle of miracles- Avenue Q won Best Musical. I can't believe it. The dazed look on Stephanie D'Abruzzo's face said it all- everyone, and I mean everyone, thought the flashy money machine Wicked would get the top prize, but the little show that could, did. And Q's performance was about ten times better, too. (My goodness, Idina Menzel was nervous!)

So what else about the Tonys was great? Anika Noni Rose and Menzel gave lovely, heartfelt speeches. Or maybe I just feel a kinship with girls who hyperventilate when they're nervous. Assassins put on a nice performance, and the opening number wasn't nearly as horrifying as it had the potential to be.

Tonya Pinkins didn't put in her best performance of "Lot's Wife." The song is spectacular, and Pinkins' acting was tremendous, but she was obviously weakening, vocally. Menzel, as I mentioned before, was just gasping for air both during her performance and her speech. I wasn't expecting much out of Wicked, and I was still disappointed. But the crowd seemed to eat it up, so what do I know?

Wonderful Town really didn't choose a good song, but Donna Murphy did a fine job with it. Fiddler on the Roof's performance looked pretty good at the time, but it really paled with hindsight.

Bernadette Peters was radiant and adorable. The sight of Carol Channing rapping with LL Cool J will stay with me for life, and I'm not sure that's a good thing. Phylicia Rashad somehow managed to be too regal. Jimmy Fallon is annoying at this point. Tony Bennett and Mary J. Blige's performances in no way justified CBS cutting Big River's performance. Boo.

Oh, and Hugh Jackman rocks my socks.

He improved tremendously as host, and the fact that he didn't have that awful Van Helsing haircut certainly helped. Anyway, he just did his thing- he sang, he danced, he got kissed by two puppets, and he was hit on by cast members of several shows, including Kristin Chenoweth in full Glinda regalia.

His performance was the best of the night- the camel and the gold pants were nice additions and- dear Lord, are those leopard print shoes?! The mind boggles. Jackman was one of the few performers to actually sing on key- the casts of Avenue Q and Fiddler on the Roof were the only other ones who also managed to do that, leading me to suspect that the sound at Radio City was off.

But anyway, after fiddling around with the piano for a while, he moved down to a mini-stage that had been set up in the front and did the infamous hip waggle. And the pelvic thrust. Several times. And there was much rejoicing in Radio City, which only grew greater when he insisted that he wanted some "sex in the city" and got Sarah Jessica Parker to come dance with him. Now, I know that the audience interaction in BFO is entirely improvised, but I heard that this wasn't. If that's true, kudos to Mrs. Parker for doing a fine job of acting totally flabbergasted and embarrased. Maybe Jackman took it further live than he did in rehearsals, but it was all very, very fun. And you know what? For a guy with a stress fracture in his foot, he can really move.

So then there were the big awards- Idina Menzel's win was a tremendous upset, but Jefferson Mays and the aforementioned Ms. Rashad were expected to win. And Jackman, of course, was the surest bet of the night. And absolutely no one was surprised the orchestra didn't cut off his speech.

Other observations: My goodess, Nicole Kidman looks positively skeletal when she ties her hair back like that. The only scarier-looking woman was Menzel, who looked cross-eyed during her performance. Though Scarlett Johansson looked pretty weird, too. I don't get it- how is it the big Hollywood stars are the ones to do awful things with their hair? Don't they have stylists who travel with them? Eh, whatever.

The ceremony was well-paced and fun, and the scripted banter was only rarely cringe-worthy, which in an awards show is a minor miracle. There were favorites winning (Audra McDonald, Mays, and Jackman, who got a standing ovation) and delightful upsets (Avenue Q! AAAAH!). The only slight dissappointment was the performances. Only Avenue Q and The Boy From- oh whatever, the Hugh Jackman Show- really wowed me. And people, you can't bring on Brian Stokes Mitchell and make him announce the Best Play nominees. He needs to sing, dammit! Sing!

*scuttles off to listen to Ragtime*

I'm in theater heaven tonight. The best show won and Michael Riedel owes Bernadette Peters lunch. How cool is that?

So Happy

Oh, I'm in Sondheim geek heaven. I just picked up some shiny new(ish) copies of Merrily We Roll Along, Marry Me a Little, The Frogs & Evening Primrose, Follies in Concert, Anyone Can Whistle, A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, and Hey, Mr. Producer. Okay, that last one isn't really about Sondheim, it's about Cameron Mackintosh, but Sondheim is involved. Oh, and I also got two more recordings of Gypsy- the current revival with Bernadette Peters and the original London cast with Angela Lansbury.

I've barely listened to half of these so far, and I'm already practically slobbering with happiness. The Follies recording was just...ecstatic. Mandy Patinkin's take on "Buddy's Blues" was extraordinary, Barbara Cook broke my heart with "Losing My Mind," and the audience reactions on the recording only made it more exciting. The OBC Follies never really caught my imagination, but this is a whole different story. Elaine Stritch singing "Broadway Baby" alone was priceless.

In other news, I have nothing resembling a life. :) But I do want to scoot over to New York this week and take my chances at the TKTS booth. Maybe I'll watch a golden oldie like Chicago. And my dad got mad at me for even suggesting this, and it's probably sold out, but I wish I could catch the final performance of Gypsy. Opening and closing nights (well, scheduled ones) are so special, and I've never been to one.

Eh, maybe one day. When I'm exceedingly rich. Ha.

What I'm listening to today: Gypsy (2003 Revival), starring Bernadette Peters

Putting It Together

My summer is starting to take shape. I started working today, and finally found out from my college that I can go ahead and take a summer class at Columbia, but they won't necessarily give me credit for it. (Bums.) My dad booked our flight to Israel next month, and I even got part of the way through the massive backlog of old shows in the Tivo that I missed while I was in school.

Now I have only a few things left to do, like getting a copy of Chicago the movie because I have determined that I can't live without its rendition of "Cell Block Tango", waiting for my obscure Sondheim recordings to come in to my local library (Saturday Night, anyone?), and determining just which Broadway shows are going to get all my summer job money. Avenue Q. No, Wonderful Town. Or Assassins. Maybe Caroline, or Change? I Am My Own Wife? How about A Raisin in the Sun? But as Jew, I have a moral obligation to see Fiddler on the Roof, even if it does star Alfred Molina...hmm. Decisions, decisions.

***

I saw Mean Girls with Kate, which was tons of fun. It was so good it almost made me like Lindsey Lohan. Almost. Edit: Thanks Kate!

***

Oh, and one last thing. I cut my hair. Until yesterday I had waist-length locks, but I had them chopped off to my shoulders and donated to Locks of Love. It feels weird, but very easy to brush in the morning.

***

And that's what I've done since I've come home from college. Sleep? Ha! Who needs it?

What I'm listening to today: "Cell Block Tango" in my head

Being a Dork

Well, as long as I'm commenting on all the Tony precursors, I'd better include the Drama Desk Awards. I can't really speak for the quality of Off-Broadway productions, but why bother nominating them if they never, ever win? And in the case of things like Avenue Q, when they finally do make it to Broadway, they're ineligible. So what's the point?

Well, anyway, I have a couple of other things to whine about. Stephen Schwartz for Best Lyrics? Really? Because his lyrics for Wicked somehow manage to suck even more than his music, which I didn't think was possible.

And I know I sound like I'm an anti-Wicked crusade here, but what on Earth motivated the Drama Desks to give Joe Mantello his Best Director award for that show rather than for his great rehaul of Assassins? Wicked is a show with a linear plot, two strong leading ladies, and lots of pyrotechnics. There's challenges to directing that, but Assassins is much more complex, and not just in subject matter. It has no linear plot, it's an ensemble show, it didn't work in the original Off-Broadway production, and oh yes- it's about friggin' Presidential assassins. Even when you have a great Stephen Sondheim score to support you, that's not an easy show to direct. And Mantello, to his eternal credit, made it work. The reviews this time around have been great.

And then they gave him the Best Director award for Wicked? Honestly. People complain about stupidity in the Tonys, but they didn't even nominate Mantello for Wicked, which shows a lot more sense on their part than they're usually given credit for. Now if only they hadn't given that show a Choreography nomination...

Anyway, there were some nice musical numbers during the awards ceremony, which had an annoying tendency to get interrupted because I was watching it via a shaky webcast. The performance of "Free at Last", from the long-closed production of Big River, was especially good. Oh, and Donna Murphy gave the longest speech ever. But that's okay, because she's wonderful.

Oh, one last thing- what was up with the weird commentary during the awards? It made it feel like an animal documentary. And though I'm highly amused by the thought of theater people as wildebeests, it still didn't work. Eh, whatever.

Congratulations to all the winners.

Agony and Relief

Well, I'm finally done with my finals. Biology could have gone better, but I aced my musicals exam. Yeah, I know- surprise, surprise. :)

Anyway, all I have left now is my evil computer science project and I'm done for the year. I should be feeling good, but it's 89 degrees in my dorm room, I only slept 4 hours last night, and I've been having mysterious stomach pains for the past three days for no apparent reason. I need to rest.

***

Oh, and congratulations to all the winners of the Theater World awards, which recognize exceptional Broadway debuts. The Boy From Oz had three winners in Hugh Jackman, Isabel Keating, and Mitchel David Federan, and Avenue Q had two in its amazing lead pupeteers John Tartaglia and Stephanie D'Abruzzo. Here's hoping these great performers stick around for years to come.

Tony Time

Van Helsing has made over $100 million and The Boy From Oz just got 5 Tony nominations, including one for Best Actor.

I'd say Hugh Jackman's had a pretty good weekend, wouldn't you?

Anyway, congratulations to all the Tony nominees. Even if they don't deserve it. Which some of them don't. But I can't write about that right now, because ironically I have another final tomorrow. In musicals. I must avoid the musicals in order to study the musicals. Right.

And So It Begins

The winners of the Outer Critics Circle awards, the first of the Tony precursors, have been announced. Since I'm an almost complete ignoramus when it comes to straight theater, I'll stick to the subject of musicals.

Best Featured Actor in a Musical: Michael Ceveris, Assassins

Okay, I can get behind that. My only real problem with this category is the fact that Joel Grey even got nominated for Wicked. I mean, Joel Grey is great and all, but his songs in that show absolutely stink. They should have nominated another Assassins man, or maybe Raul Esparza of Taboo.

Best Featured Actress in a Musical: Karen Ziemba, Never Gonna Dance

Wha? Come on. I would place Isabel Keating of The Boy From Oz and maybe even Carole Shelley of Wicked higher than Ziemba. Oh, well. It's not really an atrocious choice, just not one I'd agree with.

Best Actor in a Musical: Hugh Jackman, The Boy From Oz

Note my complete and utter lack of surprise. Jackman deserves to - and will - win every acting award he's up for this year. He's phenomenal.

***

I'm waiting for the sarcastic comments, Kate. Come on. Bring it. ;)

Best Actress in a Musical: Donna Murphy, Wonderful Town

Hey, good for Ms. Murphy, but this is absolutely no indicator of whether she'll win a Tony. This category is amazingly crowded this year, and she'll be facing stiff competition from Kristin Chenoweth and Idina Menzel of Wicked, Tonya Pinkins of Caroline, and Change, and Stephanie D'Abruzzo of Avenue Q. I'd give D'Abruzzo the lowest chance of winning, if only because she's a Broadway newcomer.

I really don't know what to think about Chenoweth and Menzel. On the one hand, Chenoweth got stronger overall reviews. On the other hand, she also missed more performances and is leaving the show soon after the Tonys. And she already won a Supporting Actress Tony for You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown. On the other hand- or foot, whatever - I think that Menzel has been overhyped by the crazed Rentheads on the theater boards I sometimes go to. So I don't know.

As for Tonya Pinkins- the reviews are finally in, and they're saying that she's doing an amazing job with a slightly thankless role. So who knows? This whole category is crazy.

Best Revival of a Musical: Wonderful Town

As a card-carrying Sondheim cultist, I protest. The reviews for Wonderful Town were pretty good, but most of that was love for Donna Murphy. Assassins is a revival that's timely, smart, and didn't get a proper chance to bloom when it first opened. If you're going to force the show to be a revival even though it's actually never been on Broadway before, at least give it the win.

Best Musical: Wicked

*GAG*

Okay, I'm sure the show isn't that bad, but the cast recording really, really was. And I love Kristin Chenoweth. Avenue Q got much better reviews, and heaven knows the songs are better, but it isn't "tourable" enough. Man, I hate that. Just because Avenue Q uses puppets and is playing in a small theater, it's suddenly not as worthy as Wicked, which sells out a large theater and has one of its characters travel by bubble. Oh yes, much more mature than puppets. Really.

And while Wicked, by all accounts, dumbs down and softens up its source, a novel of the same name, Avenue Q makes its source material, Sesame Street, grow up and wise up. If you look past ticket sales, Avenue Q should win easily. But hey, Broadway is a profit-making venture. And Wicked sure can rake in the money, even if it can't get its elaborate sets to work properly. Ugh.

And yes, Wicked's adoring teeny-bopper fans drive me nuts. People who think musicals didn't exist before Rent make me want to grumblegrumblegrumblegrumblegrumble...