DISCOVERING THE END OF THE ALPHABET – Part 1
(a wholly-owned subsidiary of Alphabet Soup)
X, Y, Z…and a lone U that was misfiled among the Xs. The
sometimes neglected end of the alphabet. Not as popular as, oh, A, let's say,
or S, or T, but still with a myriad of rewards. So what does the end of the
alphabet hold in store today? Grab a cuppa and let's find out.
September, 2016. David Rabe's powerful new play was, at
nearly three hours, in need of a very careful trim of about twenty minutes.
Considering it was in its first week of previews and had a major cast member
depart only two days earlier, (in fact, the understudy filled in for the
departed actor, K. Todd Freeman, with, I'm sure, very limited rehearsal) it was
in excellent shape. Evocative, touching and haunting, this remarkable work will
speak to everyone in one way or another. A mother and a grown son, living
hundreds of miles apart, and now divided by more than just distance. A terminal
illness, attempts to regain a closeness that has been absent for years,
possibly decades. With soliloquies that sometimes soared with breathtaking
brilliance, this was grade A theatre. Ian Barford, as the estranged son, was
excellent, but with all due respect to the talented actors, it was Debra Monk,
as Edna, the mother, who held it all together, and when she was offstage, the
energy and focus occasionally stumbled. We've long been huge fans of Ms. Monk
and she did not disappoint here. We'd both see it again. - at Steppenwolf
Theatre, Chicago
Sidebar: Tony-nominee K. Todd Freeman left the production by mutual
agreement after two previews. Freeman is an ensemble member of Steppenwolf, and
the statements issued after his departure were carefully worded and dignified.
Bottom line, he didn't work out in the role. It happens. His understudy, Jeremy
Sonkin, was on the night we saw the play and was excellent. Show biz
"bible" Variety, gave
Rabe's play the glowing review it deserved. Chicago critics overall were not as
impressed.
VAMPIRE LESBIANS OF
SODOM – Theatre Building, Chicago
September, 1995. I don't remember much about this production
featuring Peter Mohawk and Honey West except that I hated every minute of it.
This was only three months after Steve's death, so perhaps I was simply having
a bad day and wasn't getting into the Charles Busch satire/spoof/silliness. Or
perhaps it just wasn't very good. Either way, I was delighted when it ended.
Had there been an interval, I would have escaped, but there wasn't, so I
didn't. For the record, the Chicago
Tribune gave the show and its players a good notice. – at the Theatre
Building, Chicago
From the Revivals Department: According to the program, Vampire Lesbians first opened in Chicago
in 1990, starred Alexandra Billings, played for a year, and set box office
records at the Royal George Theatre. Huh. I would have vastly preferred seeing
Ms. Billings. Though Honey West is as close to a LGBT icon in Chicago as it gets,
I've never been a fan. Oh, well.
THE YEAR OF MAGICAL THINKING – Booth Theatre, New York
July, 2007 . Bob's introduction to the incandescent Vanessa
Redgrave. A one-woman show by Joan Didion, based on her memoirs about the death
of her husband, and, for the play, the death of their daughter barely two years
later, came to vivid life with the straightforward direction by David Hare, the
deceptively simple production design, in which scenic designer Bob Crowley, costume
designer Ann Roth, and lighting designer Jean Kalman proved that less is often
more, and most of all in the exquisitely nuanced performance by Vanessa
Redgrave. Your eyes never left Ms. Redgrave throughout the entire show, and she
easily kept the audience in the palm of her hand. Sometimes quite funny, often
very moving, the theatre alternately rocked with genuine delight, and moments
later was stunned into pin-drop silence. Redgrave is a theatre legend, a master
of her craft. This lovely play could not have been in better hands. Variety called it "unmissable
theater." And The Guardian had
this to say: "That the audience is
rapt is an understatement. We are practically hypnotised by Redgrave's every
movement. Every tilt of her head. The flicks of her wrists and wringing of her
hands. How she lets her platinum hair down and shakes it out before pulling it
again into a sensible ponytail. The way her hands calmly, neatly smooth out the
wrinkles in her ankle-length skirt." I couldn't agree more.
Unmissable, indeed. Thrilled that we saw it. – at the Booth Theatre, New York
From the Life Imitating Art
Department: A couple of years
later, in 2009 and 2010, within a span of fourteen short months, Vanessa
Redgrave would experience gut-wrenching loss with the deaths of her daughter,
Natasha Richardson, younger brother, Corin Redgrave, and younger sister, Lynn
Redgrave.
VICTOR/VICTORIA – Marriott
Theatre, Lincolnshire, IL
August, 1999. Love the film. Love it! Nothing I don't love
about it. Pretty much hate the stage adaptation. The Broadway edition, when
seen in Chicago on its way to New York, was among the worst things I'd seen on
a professional stage. Still is. Film songs replaced with inferior songs, the
lack of any real excitement, and a really, truly, outstandingly awful second
act opener, "Louis Says." Follow that up a few years later with a
stunningly bad dinner theatre production in suburban Wood Dale that we attended
because we knew the leading lady, who gamely tried to get through the sludge.
But wait! Between the Julie Andrews train wreck and the dinner theatre fiasco,
Lincolnshire's venerable Marriott Theatre mounted a production that somehow
managed to gloss over, not erase, mind you, much of the show's flaws. (Full
disclosure. We went because we knew the actors playing Norma and Toddy, and
were invited by Norma's husband, a colleague of Bob's.) Oh, "Louis
Says" was, unfortunately, still around, and as awful as I remembered. And
the superior film songs were still missed, but for whatever reason, Marriott managed
to pull it off…almost. Perhaps, minus all the glitter, bells, and whistles of
the Broadway incarnation, the show, warts and all, played better. Or perhaps in
the more intimate setting of Marriott's in-the-round venue, and thanks to very broad direction and acting, it was
just more fun. Whatever the reason, we enjoyed it. The stage product is still
vastly inferior to the film original, but leads Paula Scrofano, Gene Weygandt,
Kelly Anne Clark, hysterically funny as Norma and far and away the audience favorite,
and Brian Robert Mani all delivered the goods, the audience had a good time,
and all was well at Cassell's Nightclub. – at Marriott Theatre, Lincolnshire,
IL
YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN – Hilton
Theatre, New York
Young Frankenstein had a selection of marquee looks during its run.
January, 2008. Officially called The New Mel Brooks Musical Young Frankenstein. Seriously, Mel? Dial
down the ego, dude. But then ego abounded in this show. (see From the Unchecked
Ego Department) Egos, notwithstanding, including the uber-pretentious official
title, any show that features a yodeling Sutton Foster and Megan Mullally
rhapsodizing in song about her breasts can't be all bad. And it wasn't. It was
big; it was loud; it had a jaw-dropping scenic and lighting design; it had a
cast of some of Broadway's finest talents (Roger Bart, Megan Mullally, Sutton
Foster, Shuler Hensley, Andrea Martin, Fred Applegate, Christopher Fitzgerald);
it closely hewed to the beloved Mel Brooks film of the same title; and it was
funny, sometimes, for example, in the case of the divine Ms. Foster, hysterically
so. What it didn't have was a dynamic leading man. Oh, Roger Bart was very
talented and did well enough, but he just didn't have either the presence or
the charisma to fill the Hilton's large stage. And unlike Brooks' super-smash,
Tony record-breaking The Producers, Young Frankenstein lacked real
creativity, warmth, or characters you cared about. It was all too mechanical,
paint-by-numbers. It was a tight, slick, entertaining, and professional show,
with a pleasantly tuneful and instantly forgettable score by Brooks, a solid
joke-laden book by Brooks and Thomas Meehan, and lively, if "I've-done-this-before-so-I'm-phoning-this-in,"
choreography and direction by Susan Stroman. The capacity audience could not
have cared less and had a great time. So did we. But, whereas after seeing The Producers, especially with its
peerless original cast, you wanted to talk about it and tell other people about
it, with Young Frankenstein, you left
the theatre, said "Well, that was fun," and then forgot about it. –
at the Hilton Theatre, New York
From the Unchecked Ego Department: To say Mel Brooks and fellow
lead producer Robert F.X. Sillerman didn't exactly endear themselves to the
Broadway community with Young
Frankenstein would be an understatement. Where to start? Well, how about
the bad press they got when they decided to dump the announced and booked St.
James Theatre, home of The Producers
for its entire 6-year run, in favor of the larger Hilton Theatre? Ouch! And
then, one can't forget charging a then-walloping $450 for a premium seat, an
abhorrent practice instituted by Mr. Brooks when The Producers went super-nova, before the show opened. In
2007, that was unheard of. (And, please, don't get me started on premium seats.
I could rant for days!!) Then they decided to limit theatre parties and groups
to a paltry 50 seats maximum for weekend performances. Really bad move. And for
the icing on the cake of missteps, producer Sillerman broke with long-standing
tradition and refused to provide box-office grosses to the League of New York
Theatres, claiming such information was "proprietary." But karma can
be a bitch, and it came quickly in Young
Frankenstein's case. Premium prices were dropped. (We paid standard box
office of $121.50 for our seats in Row H Center in the Orchestra. Primo seats.
And we bought them two days earlier.) The number of seats for groups and
theatre parties were increased in an attempt to woo back the group and theatre
party folks. But all of it was too little, too late for damage control. The bad
PR die had been cast. Seven years earlier in 2001, The Producers was being touted as the hit to end all hits, the shot
in the arm Broadway desperately needed. At the 2001 Tony Awards, the show
dominated the awards and walked away with a record-breaking twelve of them. Mel
Brooks was the new King of Broadway. Cut to the 2007-2008 season. How the mighty
had fallen. Brooks' second Broadway outing got mixed-to-negative reviews. He,
his co-producer, and his show all received mostly bad press pre- and
post-opening. Young Frankenstein nabbed
only three Tony nominations, two performance and one design, and won none. It
closed after only 485 performances as opposed to The Producers' 2502 performances. For the Broadway community, it
was schadenfreude to a delicious degree. To date, Mel Brooks has not returned
to Broadway. Lesson? Well, as they say, pride comes before a fall, and Mel
Brooks fell hard.
VALLEY OF THE DOLLS –
Gerald W. Lynch Theatre (John Jay College), New York
Daniel Reichard (Jersey Boys) was a last-minute replacement for Hunter Bell.
March, 2010. Valley of
the Dolls, the film, is my favorite so-terrible-it's-good movie.
(Runners-up: Mommie Dearest and Torch Song, starring Joan Crawford.) What
makes it both so terrible and so good is that everyone involved, bless their
hearts, played everything so straight with nary a wink or eye roll in sight,
giving the inherent camp permission to reign supreme. And so when The Actors
Fund announced a star-studded benefit reading of Helen Deutsch and Dorothy
Kingsley's screenplay of this iconic camp delight, I immediately bought tickets.
Now perhaps the cast, Broadway vets all, upped the camp factor a teeny-tiny
bit, well, perhaps more than just a teeny-tiny bit, I mean, seriously, folks,
it's practically begging one to do so, with the result that we, the lucky folks
in the audience, were convulsed with laughter and cheering like mad. And look,
just look at this cast: Nancy Anderson, Craig Bierko, Heidi Blickenstaff,
Charles Busch, Tovah Feldshuh, Julie Halston, Troy Britton Johnson, Julia
Murney, Brad Oscar, Daniel Reichard, and Ed Watts. To the credit of this
inspired cast and some canny direction by Carl Andress, the show walked that
thin line between fun, delicious camp and over-the-top, unwatchable camp and
never made a false move. I had an absolute blast! – a benefit for The Actors
Fund at the Gerald W. Lynch Theatre, New York
(check out this YouTube link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vcpXJJ3i3qs)
Flying the NOT Friendly Skies: Bob was supposed to see this with
me. We'd even purchased a ticket on United rather than flying standby on Delta
to ensure that he would get to New York in plenty of time for the show. The
best laid plans, etc… Long story short, weather first delayed the flight, and
then United cancelled it. And Bob missed the show. Sigh.
YOU'RE A GOOD MAN,
CHARLIE BROWN
– Civic Theatre, Chicago
Pre-opening ad.
Post-opening ad.
Dennis Phillips replaced Blaine Parker as Schroeder during the long Chicago run.
The much-missed Civic. The balcony was big, but it was all compact and intimate.
Proof that CB was an institution even as early as 1969.
Clark Who?: Clark Gesner is best-known for Charlie Brown. In fact, that was his only true success. He wrote
other shows, titles that I'd never heard of, and, in 1979, wrote a big, fat
Broadway flop, the one-performance only The
Utter Glory of Morrissey Hall, which even star Celeste Holm, in a return to
Broadway, couldn't salvage. And, oh, how I wish I'd seen it! Morrissey Hall's failure was preceded in
1971 by a failed Broadway transfer of Charlie
Brown shortly after it closed its smash off-Broadway run. I wouldn't cry
for Mr. Gesner, however. He was probably able to live quite comfortably off Charlie Brown royalties. Gesner died in
2002 at the age of 64.
From the "Folks Don't Learn" Department: In 1999, for
whatever reason, folks with money decided that it would be a terrific idea to
revisit the 32-year-old You're a Good Man,
Charlie Brown, toss in a couple of new numbers, eliminate one character
(Patti) and replace her with another (Sally), renovate and refresh the look and
sound of the show (bigger orchestra), cast it with some tried and true names,
including BD Wong, who at 38 was far too
old to play Linus, and book it into a Broadway theatre. Uh…didn't the original
off-Broadway production try that Broadway thing way back in 1971 and fail after a month? Apparently,
the producers felt things would be different this time around. They
weren't. Yes, the show got a favorable
nod during its suburban Chicago tryout. Yes, the show got rave press for
Kristin Chenoweth's Sally, which should have been enough to stimulate the box
office, but You're a Good Man, Charlie
Brown isn't a Broadway show. It doesn't fit in a Broadway house, even a
smallish one like the Ambassador. The show struggled to fill even 50% of its
seats, and most weeks hovered in the mid-40% range. That's not enough Peanuts
fans to keep a show open. At the 1999 Tony Awards, Kristin Chenoweth and Roger
Bart both won supporting Tonys, but the closing notice was already up and the
show closed a week later after only 149 performances.
– Goodman Studio
Theatre, Chicago
Pre- and Post-Opening ads.
August, 1972. Even though those lovable Peanuts characters
bounded onto the musical stage only 5 ½ years earlier, by 1972 it was already a
mega-popular hit and a money-maker for its licensor, Tams-Witmark. Regional and
amateur theatres were licensing the property like mad. Goodman Children's
Theatre, at the time an arm of the well-regarded Goodman Theatre, mounted a
successful shortened "kid-friendly" edition of the show. With both
morning and afternoon performances in Goodman's intimate Studio space, the show
was popular enough to be extended twice. I don't remember anything about this
production. For the record, the Goodman Children's Theatre has long since been gone.
– at the Goodman Studio Theatre, Chicago
Charlies and Schroeders and Lucys…Oh, My!: At the time of Goodman's
Charlie Brown, I was deep into
rehearsals for Waukegan Community Player's production of the show, cast,
improbably, as Charlie Brown. A good friend of mine was directing it, his
original CB dropped out right before the start of rehearsals, and he asked me to
step in as a favor. I did. It was not a match made in heaven. Then, as now, I'm
too abrasive for Schulz's iconic, lovable creation, but I did okay, and I
adored singing the songs "The Kite" and "Happiness." Two
months later, I found myself once again in the Peanuts world in an abbreviated
version for kids of Charlie Brown at
the extinct and still-missed Barat College. This time I played Schroeder, which
was a much better fit, and I loved
every second of the show. I'm decades and decades too old for the show now, but
I wouldn't mind giving "The Kite" another go. See if I can still do
it.
And now for the lone "U."
UNCLE VANYA – Academy Festival Theatre (Drake
Theatre), Lake Forest, IL
July, 1979. Prior to unearthing this program, I'd no idea
that I'd seen a professional, or any production actually, of Chekhov's Uncle Vanya. But there's proof positive:
a program and a ticket stub, so obviously I was there. Since the esteemed
Russian playwright is not one of my favorites, and I can't imagine just going to see a Chekhov, I assumed there
had to be a reason I trekked to Lake Forest to see one of his most renowned
plays. A quick look at the program's cast list answered that question. Playing
the role of Yelena Andreyevna Serebryakov was Katharine Houghton, co-star of
the cloying Guess Who's Coming to Dinner?
and, perhaps more famously, legend Katharine Hepburn's niece. Now why that
would propel me to the Russian countryside is a mystery. Perhaps I was fantasizing
that Aunt Kate would make a surprise appearance to the delight of audience,
but, alas, that was not to be. Truthfully, I can't remember a thing about the
performance, good, bad, or otherwise. I couldn't find a review in my archival
website, but in an article published a month or so later when the Academy Festival Theatre shut
down for good after a difficult, unprofitable season, Chicago Tribune
theatre critic Linda Winer, called Vanya
"reportedly dismal." And star Jack Ryland, who played Vanya, was
quoted in a column by the Tribune's
Maggie Daly, "We had three weeks of rehearsal and we should have had six
and everyone has a different interpretation on how it should be done…" Well,
okay, then. The cast consisted of many Chicago favorites and was directed by
the respected George Keathley. I guess everyone's entitled to an off day. – at
the Academy Festival Theatre (Drake Theatre), Lake Forest, IL
Swan Song: Uncle Vanya
was the Academy Festival Theatre's penultimate show before it closed abruptly
after a scheduled run of a new play, The
Interview, which starred Keir Dullea and which I saw (to be discussed in a
future post). A victim of artistic and fiscal mismanagement over the course of
three artistic directors, a lack of real support from the wealthy,
socially-conscious folks of Lake Forest, the Academy's home, who seemed more
interested in the social value of entertaining stars at their homes, and a lack
of a true identity, did the theatre in after twelve debt-laden years. It left a
hole in the Chicago theatre scene that hasn't been filled even today.
And on that somber note… Until next time!
© 2019 Jeffrey Geddes