ALPHABET SOUP (14): FEATURING A RANDOM LETTER OF THE ALPHABET AND SOME SHOWS THAT BEGIN WITH THAT LETTER

ALPHABET SOUP (14):

FEATURING A RANDOM LETTER OF THE ALPHABET AND SOME SHOWS THAT BEGIN WITH THAT LETTER

G

A flawed, very problematic, play by Neil Simon. The musical version of Vicki Blum's story of a hotel in Berlin and its guests.  A card game featuring two of America's finest actors ever. A comedy revue starring the famed comedy duo of Dudley Moore and Peter Cook. A failed attempt to mine some more dollars out of the short-lived let's-revive-a-1920's-musical craze. A stunning musical about the Beale women and their dilapidated mansion. Finally, the troubled pre-Broadway tryout of a musical by Neil Simon and Marvin Hamlisch that deservedly landed with a big thud in New York. Vastly different properties, but all of these shows have at least one thing in common: they all begin with the letter "G."

Let's begin!

THE GINGERBREAD LADY – Blackstone Theatre, Chicago

"A landslide of pure and unbuttoned joy"? Sorry, Clive, it wasn't. Press-Agent-Pulling-Quotes Magic. And the lead character NEVER sits on a stool and sings. Odd graphic.

Well, if you believed these quotes, this was the best damn thing to hit Broadway in, well, ages. If that was the case, why the run of under 200 performances? More Press Agent wizardry.

December, 1971.  By the time The Gingerbread Lady opened on Broadway in December, 1970, playwright Neil Simon was already a well-established, well-regarded fixture on Broadway, famed for his sparkling comedies and hysterical one-liners. With The Gingerbread Lady, he tried to fuse the comedy with serious subject matter like alcoholism and aging. He even threw a gay character into the mix. Sadly, the gay character was one-dimensional, the alcoholism glossed over, and the aging issues treated with quips. Nancy Kelly, so unforgettable in The Bad Seed, played the role of Evy, the alcoholic, sex-addicted singer. (Did Simon intentionally or unintentionally base the character of Evy on Judy Garland, who had died the year before?) Betsy von Furstenberg and Michael Lombard recreated their Broadway roles of the fear-of-aging Toby and the gay Jimmy, respectively. Misses Kelly and von Furstenberg and Mr. Lombard gave their considerable all even though their parts were predictable and more than a bit soap-opera-y. The play itself? Not so good. The one-liners flew with the usual Simon efficiency, but they seemed hollow and sometimes mean. Michael Lombard's character irritated me, Ms. von Furstenberg's was whiny, and Ms. Kelly just seemed to be working too hard to make her character sympathetic and even remotely likeable. Without them the play would have been unwatchable, so kudos to them. The Tribune critic gushed over it. Forty-six years later, I wonder if we saw the same show or if, at twenty-one, was I just too young to "get it"? – at the Blackstone Theatre, Chicago

Sidebar: The Gingerbread Lady broke Simon's string of hits with a run of under two hundred performances. I may the only person with this opinion, but I don't think overall Simon ages well. His trilogy of Brighton Beach Memoirs, Biloxi Blues, and Broadway Bound and the magnificent Lost in Yonkers are the exceptions. His books for musicals, played as period pieces, still work, but I suspect that's largely due to their scores. Case in point. A few years ago, I saw an am-dram production of The Odd Couple and, despite some good performances, barely cracked a smile. It was just so dated, so stuck in its time. I mean seriously, the gruff butch guy is the slob and the quieter, more sensitive one is the prissy neatnik? Dude! I just reread The Gingerbread Lady to refresh my memory, and I found it to be offensive in parts, racist in parts, and written with absolutely no understanding of what a gay man would be going through in 1970. For the record, he would do the same thing twenty-odd years later in The Goodbye Girl (see last entry in this post). I can't imagine why anyone would want to stage it today.

GRAND HOTEL – Chicago Theatre, Chicago

April, 1991. Based on the story and play by Vicki Blum, Grand Hotel made its greatest impact as the Oscar-winning Best Picture Grand Hotel, starring Joan Crawford, John Barrymore, Greta Garbo, and Lionel Barrymore, in which Garbo speaks the immortal line, "I want to be alone." The musical, directed and choreographed by Tommy Tune, won a handful of Tony Awards and enjoyed a 1017-performance run. The tour's week-long stay at the gorgeous Chicago Theatre was greeted with critical approval, but, gorgeous as the Chicago Theatre is, it's just not a theatre-friendly venue. While in most theatres, sitting in Row R on the main floor would be a decent seat, at the Chicago, with rows in the orchestra starting with Row AA and going to Row PP before Row A, Row R meant I was practically sitting in the lobby. As a result, I just couldn't connect with anything going on in that faraway land called the stage. Oh, to be sure, visually it was stunning, but I just didn't care about any of the characters, their stories, or their fates because I was just too damn far away. For the record, the show starred Tina Paul, Brent Barrett, Mark Baker, Anthony Franciosa, DeLee Lively, K.C. Wilson, and in the ensemble, pre-Tony Award Rachel Bay Jones, then billed as Rachel Jones. Who knew? A major disappointment because I like the score quite a lot and enjoy moody, atmospheric shows. – at the Chicago Theatre, Chicago

Remake Sidebar: The film Grand Hotel was remade in 1945 as Weekend at the Waldorf and set in New York's legendary Waldorf-Astoria. It starred Ginger Rogers, Van Johnson, Walter Pidgeon, Keenan Wynn, Xavier Cugat and his Orchestra, and, and this "and" was in modified cursive to emphasize how important this "and" was, Lina Romay. Okay, I never heard of her either, but she had a fairly substantial career as a singer and in film, and sang for a while with Cugat's orchestra, hence her involvement in this film. The more you know.

THE GIN GAME – Blackstone Theatre, Chicago

June, 1979. The final performance of the tour. Curiously, D.L. Coburn's The Gin Game won the 1978 Pulitzer Prize for Drama, but lost the Tony to Hugh Leonard's, Da. Ostensibly the story of two aged people, for all intents and purposes discarded by society at large and their families in particular, who find friendship and then lose that friendship during a series of card games, gin to be exact. Don't believe the surface adorability. Fonsia and Weller are, frankly, both pieces of work, nasty and vindictive when you get right down to it. I said "ostensibly" because the real reason for The Gin Game was to give us the opportunity to see Jessica Tandy and Hume Cronyn ply their magic. Without exaggeration, I think its safe to say that Ms. Tandy and Mr. Cronyn were two of the finest actors America has ever produced. Individually, but especially together, they made acting look effortless, a stroll in the park. And in the case of Coburn's play, they took a slight, entertaining work and made it soar. It was such a privilege and honor to watch them. Lucky, lucky me! – at the Blackstone Theatre, Chicago

Sidebar: A live performance of The Gin Game was filmed. You may be able to get the VHS version somewhere, but I downloaded it from YouTube. Not the best quality, perhaps, but you owe it to yourself to watch it.

GOOD EVENING – Plymouth Theatre, New York

June, 1974. Sitting in the last row of the mezzanine at the Plymouth Theatre, I laughed my ass off at the skits and antics of Peter Cook and Dudley Moore, the brilliant English comedians and satirists. The program lists fifteen sketches, all funny, some landing better than others, and a couple here and there hovering at the going-too-far line, but all of it was so damn entertaining, and the stars were so damn endearing, you just didn't care about the almost-lapse-in-taste moments. A decade earlier, this duo was half of the cast of the groundbreaking Beyond the Fringe. Opening to good reviews, this "comedy with music," courtesy of Moore's prowess as a pianist, ran for 438 performances and went on tour. Shows like Good Evening don't exist anymore. Pity. – at the Plymouth Theatre, New York

GOOD NEWS – Shubert Theatre, Chicago

August, 1974. The huge success of the 1971 revival of the 1925 musical chestnut No, No, Nanette ushered in what many thought would be a string of nostalgia musicals. But, in fact, that string turned out to be a very short one. Three, to be exact. Spectacularly fired from Nanette, producer Harry Rigby mounted the Debbie Reynolds vehicle, Irene, in 1973, and then later that year launched Good News on its yearlong and treacherous journey to Broadway. On the way, it stopped off at Chicago's Shubert Theatre. The similarities between Good News and Nanette were striking. Both had scores jam-packed with old standards by famed composers: for Nanette, it was Vincent Youmans, Irving Caesar, and Otto Harback; for Good News, it was De Sylva, Brown, and Henderson. Both had beloved Hollywood stars above the title: for Nanette, it was Ruby Keeler; for Good News, it was Alice Faye and John Payne. Both had a famed comic sidekick: for Nanette, it was Patsy Kelly; for Good News, it was Stubby Kaye. Both had a handsome pair of young would-be lovers, both had a showstopping Act One dance number ("I Want To Be Happy," "Varsity Drag"), both had a late-in-show torch number ("Where-Has-My-Hubby-Gone Blues," "I Want To Be Bad"), and both were sumptuously mounted. And there the similarities end. Whereas Nanette was a joy from start to finish, Good News tried so hard to entertain, it was, frankly, exhausting to watch. The Nanette folks had the good sense to let Keeler tap her heart out to thunderous applause in Act One, and then kept her pretty much out of the picture. In Good News, Alice Faye played an astronomy professor (I know, wrap your head around that improbability!) and had more to do than Keeler, which was, sad to say, unfortunate because she was stiff, uncharismatic, and, well, dull. The less said about her "I Want To Be Bad," the better. Payne wasn't much better. Stubby Kaye was irritating, but then I found Nanette's Patsy Kelly to be irritating as well. The young supporting players, led by Marti Rolph (original Young Sally in Follies), Scott Stevenson, Jana Robbins (Broadway debut), Tommy Breslin, and Barbara Lail, fared well and gave the show what little life it had. Nanette's producers were savvy enough to fill its cast roster with established Broadway pros, stars in their own rights, which gave the show its polish and sheen. Good News was riding on the star power of three faded stars. They couldn't pull it off. Having said that, the audience warmly received the show. Not sure why. The Tribune's William Leonard liked it a lot. I didn't. – at the Shubert Theatre, Chicago

Nostalgia Doesn't Always Pay: In 1971, No, No, Nanette started the short-lived nostalgia musical craze. It opened to great reviews, won some Tonys, had smart replacement casting, made money, played 861 performances, and had multiple touring companies. It was smart, sleek, and never pandered to the audience, playing its silly plot with honesty and sincerity. In 1973, Irene, with Debbie Reynolds in her Broadway debut, opened to largely negative reviews, had a run of 594 performances, but, despite the box office pull of Reynolds and her replacement, Jane Powell, failed to make a profit, and still showed a loss even after its tour. Good News played a yearlong tryout tour filled with Sturm und Drang and had a very lengthy preview period of 51 performances, during which time John Payne's contract expired. He wisely chose not to extend it and was replaced by Gene Nelson. After all that drama, the musical finally opened to blistering reviews and closed after just 16 performances, with a complete loss of its investment. And, that, for the most part, was that for nostalgia musicals. A bit of a postscript…a modest-sized production of the 1915 musical Very Good Eddie opened in 1975, ran 304 performances, made a small profit, and toured for a few months, but the big-budget, big-star, lavish revivals numbered only three.

Casting Tidbit: Twenty-seven-year-old Jana Robbins was cast as the understudy for the fifty-nine-year-old Alice Faye. Shame I didn't get to see her instead.

GREY GARDENS

– Playwrights Horizons, New York

– Walter Kerr Theatre, New York

April, 2006 (Playwrights); December, 2006 (Kerr). One of the most uneven, plodding musicals I've seen, yet at the same time one of the most compelling, most memorable musicals I've seen. Like the cult documentary of the same name upon which the musical is based, Grey Gardens is about the Edith and Edie Beale, aunt and first cousin, respectively, of Jackie Kennedy. The original production at Playwrights Horizons' small Mainstage Theater had a claustrophobic, trapped feel to it which heightened the show's flaws, but also made for an intimate experience. Everything was up close and personal, and when Ebersole launched into "Will You?" at the end of Act One, the world seemed to stop dead in its tracks. At the larger Kerr, after revisions and one major cast change (Erin Davie replacing Sara Gettelfinger as Act One's "Little" Edie), the show seemed a little less personal, yet a bit more grand, the decay in the lives of the Beale women becoming almost epic in nature. The first act was still too long and too convoluted, but gave us that needed glimpse into what the Beales once were. But, let's be honest here, most of the audience was there for the second act, which follows the documentary retaining all of the "must have" scenes and many of the favorite lines. Doug Wright's book, Scott Frankel's music, and Michael Korie's lyrics got the job done with style and moments of incandescent brilliance. The cast, most of whom largely disappear after the first act, were all fine, with special kudos to Matt Cavenaugh who did double duty as a douchey Joe Kennedy, Jr. in Act One and a sweet Jerry in Act Two, and the inestimable John McMartin as a hidebound and cruel Major Bouvier in Act One and Norman Vincent Peale in Act Two. But first and foremost, the show owes its success to the efforts of its two leading ladies who managed to avoid making the comic, tragic, pitiable Beale women cartoons and made them into flesh-and-blood characters that you ended up, sometimes despite yourself, caring about. Mary Louise Wilson as Edith Beale in Act Two was never better. Imperious, mean, dictatorial, yet vulnerable, she was simply brilliant. And what can one really say about Christine Ebersole's Edith (Act One) and "Little" Edie (Act Two) that hasn't already been said? Was she that good, you ask? Short answer: yes, she really was. In Act One, she played the society Edith with a regalness befitting a society queen, yet there was selfishness and an overwhelming need to be the undisputed center of attention lurking just beneath the surface. In Act Two, her "Little" Edie was touching, daffy, a bit mad, a bit wise, and absolutely endearing. I defy you not to be devastated by her realization that she can never escape Grey Gardens when she sings one of the finest songs in the musical theatre canon, "Another Winter in a Summer Town." Heartbreaking. It's still far from perfect and even today could use some tidying up, but, gosh, is it good. Da da da da dum...– at the Playwrights Horizon and the Walter Kerr Theatre, New York

THE GOODBYE GIRL – Shubert Theatre, Chicago

I'm not quite sure why the press agents thought this would be a dandy show to bring kids to. I mean, they'd be bored out of their minds.

The show was in tryout, so at the performance attended, this was the cast list and the scenes/musical numbers. Note the first number...see below.

January, 1993. When a musical pretty much begins with its eleven o'clock number, you immediately get a sinking feeling that this is as good as its gonna get. And, sadly, with The Goodbye Girl, nearing the end of its troubled Chicago tryout, that proved to be the case. Factor in an egregiously offensive number, "Richard Interred," that so angered Steve, he left at intermission, an ugly physical production, and a feeling of desperation that pervaded the proceedings and you're left with a pretty dire situation. Based on the hit 1977 movie of the same name, The Goodbye Girl certainly had the pedigree: Neil Simon writing the book based on his screenplay, the EGOT and Pulitizer-winning Marvin Hamlisch providing the tunes, and Tony-winner David Zippel giving us the lyrics, with Santo Loquasto doing the sets and costumes, Tharon Musser lighting the show, Graciela Daniele doing the dances, Gene Saks as the listed director, but he'd been fired by this time and Michael Kidd was handling the directorial chores, and starring Broadway darling Bernadette Peters and popular comedian Martin Short in his Broadway debut. It should have worked and worked well. It didn't. Up until the demeaning to gays "Richard Interred" number, things were pleasant enough, not good, not bad, but pleasant. Peters was quirky and had LOTS of hair; Short was funny and better, in my opinion, than Peters, who looked like she wanted out of her contract at the producers' earliest convenience. "A Beat Behind" was a clever dance number, but that was immediately after the eleven o'clock number that started the show, so there was still a lot of Act One to go. "Richard Interred" managed to offend every gay person in the audience with its insensitivity and lack of understanding that what may have been accepted in AIDS-free 1977 was definitely not acceptable in the early 1990s when the AIDS epidemic was killing off people in ever-increasing numbers. And things went downhill in the inferior Act Two. The wonderful Carol Woods, playing the "Big Black Woman Role," (you know, the superfluous role that was popular, almost de rigueur in musicals of this time, in which the BBWR gave the show some sass, some words of wisdom, and the big, old belty number), was sadly underused, horribly underwritten, and her big belty number landed with a big thud. Terrible waste of a considerable talent. The supposed eleven o'clock number, judging by its placement in the show, "What a Guy," was simply another ballad. Short's big number, "I Can Play This Part," was slight, but heartfelt, charming, and one of the few moments in the show that gave a hint of what could have been. Now what about that eleven o'clock number that starts the show, you know, the one I keep mentioning? Well, it's called "No More," it's simply terrific, and Peters put the number across with true star piss and vinegar. Had all of The Goodbye Girl been of the quality of "No More," the show would have been a smash hit. But that wasn't the case. So many missed opportunities. The audience response at bows was tepid, even disappointed. For the record, The Goodbye Girl has a great overture, and I love overtures, so there is that.  – at the Shubert Theatre, Chicago

Richard Interred: Oh, dear. Steve was clearly angered and upset over this unsavory bit of homophobia, intentional or not, and couldn't wait to get out of the theatre. I stayed because by then The Goodbye Girl had become a bit of a train wreck and I simply couldn't look away. I digress. I wrote a letter to the Tribune columnist, who had just written an article about the musical and the work done in Chicago, expressing my outrage at Mr. Simon's lack of sensitivity. In a return letter, the columnist stated he passed on my letter to Mr. Simon, who expressed deep regret that people, and apparently there were a lot of them, were offended by the Richard III segment, and stated that that wasn't his intention and that the segment would be reworked. I believed Simon. I didn't, and don't, think he's homophobic, just a man of his era. He doesn't mean to offend, but his views may not be the most enlightened.  The New York reviews indicate the scene was reworked, but, rather than taking an entirely different approach, Simon still kept the gay angle from the film and Chicago tryout.

Big Advance Doesn't Mean Big Hit: The Goodbye Girl was unquestionably one of the most anticipated musicals of the 1992-1993 season. The tryout in Chicago played to full houses, despite the reviews. Broadway, however, was another matter. The reviews were decidedly leaning towards the negative, which hurt future box office sales, and after it went through its advance, and tanked at the Tonys, the producers decided to close the show. I also read both stars' contracts were expiring and that also was a factor in the decision to close. Since Broadway, more revisions have been made and it even had a brief two-month West End run in 1997. I can't imagine why anyone would want to do it today, amateur and professional groups alike. It's just not very good.

Bookending Neil Simon flops. And the end of an another post. Until later….

© 2018 Jeffrey Geddes