Show Business: The Road To Broadway

It took a good two years to get the catchy "Popular" from Wicked out of my head. It's back. I finally caught Show Business: The Road To Broadway , the enthralling documentary chronicling the 2003-2004 race to the Tony Award for Best Musical. Tons of footage has been compiled from the rehearsals, the producer's meetings, the composer jam sessions, the gypsy robe ceremonies, to the opening nights and beyond to give us all an insiders view of what a hand-wringing ordeal it is to birth a successful Broadway musical. I am a mite jealous of the 2 or 3 of you Showdown readers who do not know the outcome 2004 Tony race for Best Musical as you will no doubt get all wrapped up in the cutthroat competition to secure the big one. For the rest of us who pored over every Riedel column, read every Playbill press release, saw every show and planned our Tony parties months in advance, the joy of this movie lies in the insights provided by the smug pundits, the harried directors, the stressed creators, and the sweaty actors. Favorite scene: A visibly drained Jeanine Tesori and Tony Kushner struggle to find the right lyrics for Caroline's eleven o'clock number for Caroline Or Change. The creative process is under the microscope and the eclectic crowd of creators this doc follows is a brilliant lot. So yes, this is a ripping good flick! And it's 88% fresh on Rotten Tomatoes (please note that Rush Hour 3 only got 20% so if you're torn between the two, Show Business... is probably the one to go with). Show Business... will be released on DVD on October 16th. Trailer here. On a more personal note, I seriously want to hook up with Raul Esparza. Seriously.

Good Heif

Photo/Jim Baldassare

Having loved God's Ear (2007) and Dead City (2006), I had strong hopes for the latest production from New Georges. Unfortunately, I found Maggie Smith's new play, Good Heif, to be as unforgiving as the hot, dry, timeless land it takes place in. The multiple artificialities that make up the script--from the unforgivingly mechanical digging to the equally staccato dialogue--keep the audience at a permanent distance. I relate to Lad's quest for manhood and visions of cool, wet, bubbling holes, but I'm lost by the mythical appearance of a devilish sprite, Ol' Heif. Stuck between the rocky language and hard place of the plot, I could only focus on the excellent acting which, while not always coherent, was at least committed.

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Chicago

I like to drop in on Chicago every year: this time I didn't even bother beforehand to find out who was currently in the cast. I wound up seeing George Hamilton's last performance as Billy Flynn (he oozed charm and flashed a great smile but vocally he was probably the weakest Billy I've seen to date) and, although none of the Playbills handed to my party of five said so, fit Eric Jordan Young was on as Amos. The last tme I saw Young in Chicago he was hip-grinding in the ensemble with his abs on display, so I was not prepared for him to score as sad sack Mr. Cellophane. I won't make that mistake again: he had the audience in his white-gloved hands. Adriane Lenox made a fine Mama Morton, happily embellishing her number with some jazzy vocal riffs. If the ensemble was tired you wouldn't have known it from the other side of the footlights: the dancing was tight and sharp, and the six merry murderesses all nailed their "Cell Block Tango" bits. But ultimately, this revival of Chicago rises or falls on Roxie and Velma both individually and as a team, and that's where this visit proved less than ideal. While Michelle de Jean was a sensational Roxie, she needed someone to play off with more comic ability than Brenda Braxton, whose effortful Velma was short on wicked fun.

The Beebo Brinker Chronicles

****1/2
Hourglass Group



How is it that the already well-tackled issue of coming to terms with one's own sexuality can appear so relevant and fresh? The magic may very well lie in the artful tone established by playwrights Kate Moira Ryan and Linda S. Chapman and director Leigh Silverman in this stage adaptation of one in a series of pulp novels from the fifties about closeted lesbians escaping to New York City. The most obvious and easiest choice would be to camp it up old school. Yes, there is a great deal of humor derived from the rat-a-tat fifties-style delivery and soap operatic heights this production achieves but above and beyond there is a great deal of respect for these lost ladies looking for a comfortable fit. Set mostly in the West Village, a pre-Stonewall atmosphere of underground secrecy is well established as our ladies lurking in the dark corners of smoky bars cruise one another. It reminded me of how scared shitless I was the first time I snuck into a gay bar (Heaven. Houston, Tx. 1991). Led by the gorgeous Marin Ireland and the unmatchable David Greenspan, the cast is just as gourmet as the direction. I just got an email announcing "BEEBO BRINKER sells out run; off-Broadway next?" Does it belong off-Broadway? HELL YES!

A Feminine Ending

****

Playwrights Horizons

What initially seems to establish itself as a light romantic comedy (Light romantic comedy? Playwrights Horizons?? Wha-?) slowly reveals a darker, less fanciful undercurrent that takes its audience on quite a different journey (Ah! Very good then. Carry on). With one part idealism and one part humor, playwright Sarah Treem offers up the story of a young female composer who is not only getting engaged but also stuck in the middle of her parent's mid-marriage crisis (Marsha Mason, as the antsy New Hampshire wifemom is hilarious). This play of non-traditional ideas snuck up on me in a very good way and I was thrilled to see the second female dramatist of the season so successfully arrive at the PH. Much to my enjoyment, the somewhat controversial moral of this deceptively calm, deceptively casual play now in previews ruffled the feathers of a number of the older matinee subscribers. One contingent marched out in a huff during the final scene, and another afterwards on 42nd and 9th announced "That was the most boring play I have ever seen!". Trust me, Sarah's play was far from boring.

a Good Farmer

Photo/Rick Berubé

Everything takes time to mature, whether it's a relationship, trust, or even the delineation between an illegal immigrant and a legal one, and that's what Sharyn Rothstein's a Good Farmer manages to show so well (though it's far from an even account of both sides of the immigration controversy). Her play takes time to grow, too, with some awkward and exaggerated patches in the first act that are well-worth sitting through, given the ripe and emotional juiciness of the second. Rothstein uses the domestic situation as a portal into the political one, giving us not generalities, but a specific: Carla Gutierrez (the very passionate Jacqueline Duprey). Rothstein begins by showing us her life in 2007 so that when the play skips back to 2000, we aren't judging Carla on her lack of grammar, but rather on her potential. It's surprising, too, to see Bonnie Johnson (Chelsea Silverman) as a rattled mother, considering how unshakably confident she seems down the road, but defying expectations is a great way to drive a point home.

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