LET'S START AT THE VERY BEGINNING – Episode 4

LET'S START AT THE VERY BEGINNING – Episode 4

(a wholly-owned subsidiary of Alphabet Soup)

"Let's start at the very beginning/A very good place to start/When you read you begin with A-B-C…"

It's all about "C" today:  the Pulitzer Prize-winning groundbreaking musical about dancers; a musical with a divine score about the best of all possible worlds; Arthur, Guenevere, and Lancelot in-the-round; a revue celebrating an iconic hoofer; a Cinderella story with a twist; and a Sherlock Holmes adventure. Get comfy and we'll begin.

A CHORUS LINE

– Shubert Theatre, New York

May, 1977. Before there was Hamilton, before there was Wicked, there was A Chorus Line. Michael Bennett's 1975 musical about dancers auditioning for one of the coveted chorus spots in an upcoming Broadway show won practically every award in sight, including the Best Musical Tony Award among its nine wins, the Pulitzer Prize for Drama, and the Drama Desk Award. It sold out every performance for years and ended its then record-breaking run after just over fifteen years and 6,137 performances. When I first saw A Chorus Line, it was just under two years into its run. It was still the hottest ticket in New York, and I went into the Shubert with high excitement, but, curiously, I left the theatre that night not quite sure what all the fuss was about. I say "curiously" because this should have been right up my alley. I love backstage shows, the feeling that you're getting the real scoop on the goings-on. You know you're not, of course, but it's still fun. And since A Chorus Line was written based on conversations with dancers, many of them in the original cast, I thought this would be the ultimate backstage musical. But… Now I know I'm probably in the minority here, but I didn't think then, and don't think now, that A Chorus Line is as brilliant as many claim it to be. Don't get me wrong. It's a good show, a very good show, a terrific show, in fact, and I've seen it a number of times, but it sometimes gets caught up in its concept, and you don't always buy what it's trying to sell. Plus it has the longest song cue in the history of musical theatre. The lead-up to "What I Did for Love" has at least three false cues and goes on forever. "What would you do if you couldn't dance anymore?" Who cares? Just get on with the damn song. All that stop-and-start nonsense broke the rhythm of the piece, and the song was sung with such maudlin intensity, well, it felt like the whole segment belonged in another show. Among the talented dancers in the cast were Wayne Cilento, Vicki Frederick, Mitzi Hamilton, and Thomas J. Walsh, who as Thommie Walsh, would collaborate with Tommy Tune and snag a couple of Tonys in the process. – at the Shubert Theatre, New York

Longest-Running Show…well, for a while at least: It was perhaps indicative of what the American musical theatre had become when Cats overtook A Chorus Line as the longest-running musical in 1997. Currently, A Chorus Line is the 7th longest-running show, following the champ, The Phantom of the Opera, The Lion King, the aforementioned Cats, the paint-by-numbers Wicked, Les Misérables, and, in an especially ironic turnabout, the second place show, the revival of Chicago, the musical that A Chorus Line annihilated in every category at the 1976 Tony Awards. Still going strong after over twenty-three years and over 9,700 performances. And all that jazz, indeed!

– Shubert Theatre, Chicago

March, 1978; June, 1978; September, 1978; December, 1978. The eagerly-awaited arrival in Chicago of A Chorus Line took place on January 9, 1978, and it settled into the Shubert Theatre for an 11-month run, perhaps not as spectacular as its producers anticipated, and certainly not as impressive as the multi-year runs of Wicked and Hamilton several decades later, but, still and all, a long run. Chicago favorite Anthony Teague, here Anthony S. Teague, played Zach. Early on in the run, I met Keith Keen. At the time he was 21 and was playing Larry. Keith was the boyfriend of my roommate's former boyfriend, and my roommate and his former squeeze had remained friends, so that explains meeting Keith, etc. The cast was younger than the cast I'd seen in New York a year earlier, so the dialogue didn't always land with a been-there-done-that-and-I-really-need-this-job resonance, but to a person, they all danced with precision. During the run in Chicago, twenty-year-old Wanda Richert would don Cassie's red dress, and, though, far too young to have experienced Cassie's ups and downs, she delivered an electric "The Music and the Mirror." Linda Winer of the Chicago Tribune gave a mixed review of the show, feeling, as I did when I saw it in New York, that technique often won out over heart. No matter. The show sold a lot of tickets in its eleven months in the Windy City. – at the Shubert Theatre, Chicago

 Wanda Richert...far too young for Cassie, but, a terrific dancer.

 Mid-run ad.

Heralding the last week.

Wanda and Keith: Wanda Richert would achieve her greatest success at the tender age of twenty-two when she originated the role of Peggy Sawyer in 42nd Street. Almost eclipsing her performance was the fact that she had been Gower Champion's girlfriend at the time, and would learn of his death on 42nd Street's opening night when producer David Merrick announced it from the stage after curtain calls. In 2008, Richert became an ordained minister. Keith was one of the good ones, a kind, gentle, talented man. He would return to Chicago when the tour of Dancin' played Chicago, and we met for coffee once or twice after he returned to New York. My college roommate had a major crush on him. Keith died from AIDS in 1991 while appearing in a revival of Fiddler on the Roof. He was 34.

– Shubert Theatre, Chicago

 Farewell tour-1983

Farewell tour cast-1983

February, 1983. The "International Company" of A Chorus Line returned to Chicago for its fourth and final engagement of the original edition. At the peak of its popularity, A Chorus Line had six companies dancing on the line worldwide. Once the Chicago engagement ended, the show moved to Boston for its final stop, leaving the New York flagship as the only remaining example of Michael Bennett's original vision. To be honest, I don't remember a thing about this production. In fact, I'd forgotten about it until I checked the date of the Playbill and found the ticket stub. The Tribune's Richard Christiansen liked it. – at the Shubert Theatre, Chicago

– Gerald Schoenfeld Theatre, New York

 

December, 2006. The first, and to date only, revival of A Chorus Line was an exhumation of the landmark original, and I mean that in the best way possible, for this Chorus Line was a virtual doppelgänger of the version that opened in 1975 and set the musical theatre world on its ear. Wisely, the producers kept the show in 1975. Production-wise, everything was recreated by its original designers, down to Cassie's iconic red dress. Michael Bennett's direction and choreography was recreated by Baayork Lee and Bob Avian, respectively. And it was that slavish nod to the original that bothered some critics. The New York Times likened the production to a vintage car that has been polished up and taken back out on the road. Newsday was harsher stating, "The treatment of every step-kick as holy scripture brings the faint whiff of mothballs to memory lane." Sorry, critics, but that wasn't my impression at all. If anything, I found this fresh, gleaming production to be more involving, more precise, more "singular sensational" than the original production. Perhaps that was partially due to the intimate surroundings of the Schoenfeld, née Plymouth, Theatre, and some really good seats. But I think it was because A Chorus Line was still, thirty-one years later, head and shoulders above the Wickeds and Phantoms in scope and concept. The things that annoyed me decades earlier didn't bother me in 2006, and it was a pleasure to hear "What I Did for Love" sung without histrionics. "At the Ballet" thrilled. And when the company turned to face the audience, headshots in front of their faces, at the end of the opening sequence, the audience burst into ecstatic applause. The superlative cast of triple-threats included Jason Tam, Chryssie Whitehead, Tony Yazbek, Mara Davi, and Michael Berresse. For my money, though, the two true standouts were Deidre Goodwin's Sheila and especially Charlotte d'Amboise's exquisite Cassie. Both ladies are among the tops in their field and the expertise showed. I came across this in Variety's review of this revival: "…the show spins a line of dancers auditioning for a Broadway chorus into a universal metaphor for anyone struggling for recognition in a competitive world. Its stinging irony is that even as their individual hopes, dreams and vulnerabilities are explored, the dancers are being groomed to join an assembly line." Still relevant today. – at the Gerald Schoenfeld Theatre, New York

Don't Miss…Every Little Step is a 2009 documentary about the audition process for the 2006 revival. Absolutely riveting. A must for any musical theatre fan.

CANDIDE
- Broadway Theatre, New York

 The colors have faded, but, hey, I took these marquee shots in 1974! 

June, 1974. The 1956 original was a 73-performance prestige flop. By all accounts, Lillian Hellman's book and Tyrone Guthrie's direction, neither noted for their musical theatre experience, were heavy-handed and pretentious, but the Leonard Bernstein score was, and rightly so, highly praised. Over the intervening years, productions were mounted to try to overcome the problematic book and the issues of presentational style. In 1974, Harold Prince tried his hand at it, and the result was a free-wheeling, joyous romp through Voltaire's satirical "best of all possible worlds." Hugh Wheeler wrote a new book. Stephen Sondheim provided some new lyrics to augment the original ones by Richard Wilbur and John Latouche. The large Broadway Theatre was converted from a traditional 1,761 seat theatre into a environmental playground seating 900 with playing areas scattered throughout the theatre, including the stage, courtesy of those design geniuses Eugene Lee, Franne Lee, and Tharon Musser. Patricia Birch provided the musical staging, and Harold Prince's sure direction made this former flop into a happy hit. Lewis J. Stadlen headed up the cast that also included Mark Baker, Maureen Brennan, Sam Freed, June Gable, and Deborah St. Darr. My seat in the Bleachers, i.e. former Mezzanine, was near the area where Ms. Brennan gleefully praised everything sparkly and glittery in "Glitter and Be Gay." I was enchanted. During the 1974 award season, Candide would walk away with five Tony Awards and five Drama Desk Awards. Not bad for a former flop. I absolutely loved this! – at the Broadway Theatre, New York

Those Damn Walkers: At 740 performances, this should have been a hit, but, sadly, it wasn't. At the time musician minimums were determined by the theatre itself regardless of its seating capacity for any given production. The minimum for the 1,761 seat Broadway was twenty-six musicians. Candide had been scored and budgeted for only thirteen. The producers appealed to the musicians' union for a waiver of that minimum, arguing that the theatre was seating only 900. The union refused the request, and Candide's roster of musicians consisted of thirteen playing musicians and thirteen "walkers" – nonplaying union members who walked in once a week to pick up a paycheck and then walk right back out. This drove the weekly costs to non-sustainable levels and the show closed at a loss.

     Over the years, Local 802 (musicians) and the producer organizations have gone back and forth over this issue. I absolutely love theatre contracts, etc. If I had had any brains when I was at uni, I would've studied entertainment/theatre law. Anyhow, musician minimums still are a thing. Here's the scoop circa the 2011 contract (note the drastic reduction for the Broadway Theatre, home of Candide.). I couldn't the current contract in a Google search:

(all figures include leader):

- Broadway, Minskoff, St. James, New Amsterdam, Lyric and Marquis – 19

- Majestic, Palace, Lunt-Fontanne, Imperial, Gershwin, Shubert and Winter Garden – 18

- Neil Simon, Al Hirschfeld and Richard Rodgers – 14

- August Wilson and Broadhurst - 12

- Barrymore, Music Box and Gerald Schoenfeld- 9

- Brooks Atkinson, Eugene O'Neill and Bernard Jacobs – 8

- Longacre and Nederlander – 4

- Ambassador, Belasco, Booth, Circle in the Square, Cort, Golden, Walter Kerr and Lyceum – 3

(missing are the non-profits such as Lincoln Center, MTC, Roundabout, etc. and their venues: American Airlines, Vivian Beaumont, Studio 54, etc.)

- In the event that a revival is presented in a Broadway theatre, the minimum number of musicians to be employed shall be the number scored for the original Broadway production or the minimum of the theatre in which the revival performs, whichever is less.

And that concludes today's bit of theatre trivia! 

– Goodman Theatre, Chicago

September, 2010. The term "reimagined" when applied to a classic theatre piece is usually a "Danger, Will Robinson!" indicator for me. More often than not, I find nothing has been added dramatically or artistically to warrant the "reimagined" elements, and I usually find the changes unnecessary. (There are exceptions. The 2019-2020 revival of Oklahoma! was a thrilling reimaging of the R&H classic.) In Goodman Theatre's misguided production, Candide fell victim to the "reimagined" scourge under the direction, or rather misdirection, of theatre darling Mary Zimmerman. Competently, if not excitingly, cast, the show lumbered through an interminable two acts. The orchestra, too small at 12, gave us an anemic overture, which started the evening off on a sour note. Gimmicks replaced honesty. "Glitter and Be Gay" became about a costume change with the leading lady struggling to hit the highest notes. I hated virtually every minute of it.  I'm not sure why we didn't leave at the interval. – at the Goodman Theatre, Chicago

CAMELOT – Arena Stage, Washington, D.C.

 I find this image rather haunting. Clues the audience their not getting their fairy-tale Camelot.

January, 2004. With almost as many tales told about it as its source material and characters, Camelot survived mediocre reviews, the curse of being the show that followed its creators' masterpiece, My Fair Lady, and initial box-office ennui to become an enduring staple of musical theatre. The show has its problems. It often seems unfocused, unsure what the thrust of the story is. There tends to be too much fat where crisp storytelling would accomplish the same thing with better effect. Most productions I've seen tend to romanticize the proceedings, ignoring the fact that the story at its heart is one of adultery, betrayal, and the loss of a dream that never could have succeeded. But then, there is that score, that insanely glorious Lerner and Loewe score that makes faults almost seem irrelevant. Notice I said "almost." Arena Stage's production of this now-classic musical hit all the right notes, both musically and emotionally, giving its audiences a refreshingly adult Camelot that didn't shy away from the inherently dark themes, yet didn't skimp on the show's lighter moments. In its arena staging, it looked lush and expensive, sounded terrific courtesy of its sixteen-piece orchestra, and was cast with an impressive roster of talent lead by Steven Skybell, Kate Suber, and Matt Bogart. Yet for all its virtues, director Molly Smith could not overcome the stumbling blocks in the material, most notably the godawful scene featuring Mordred, Morgan Le Fey, and Arthur in the forest just before our adulterous lovers are exposed. Having said that, however, the opportunity to hear the beautiful score so radiantly sung was worth any and all warts in the show. We saw this on January 2. What a wonderful way to welcome in 2004. – at the Arena Stage (Fichandler Stage), Washington, D.C.

Retooling Arthur's World: MTI holds the rights to Camelot. As written, Camelot has a large cast of seven principals and ensemble. A few years back, MTI authorized a small-cast version with a cast of eight – one woman (Guenevere) and seven men (Arthur, Lancelot, Mordred, Sir Dinaden, Sir Lionel, Sir Sagramore, Tom of Warwick). The adapter, with, I assume, the blessings of the Lerner and Loewe estates, trimmed the book to the basic storyline, that of Arthur, Guenevere, and Lancelot. Gone is the pretty, but extraneous "Follow Me," since both Nimue and Merlin are excised in this version. Gone is the awful Morgan Le Fey scene. Some of the big production numbers are shortened, simplified. While this version is more dramatically sound, it comes at the cost of some of the show's color, specifically the absence of the Pellinore character. That character added some lovely warmth and support to the show. This version is available for reading on the MTI website. Overall, I like it, but I hate the framing device the adapter used of the actors all doubling as "Revelers," narrators of the story. It's all unnecessary and adds an element that, in its own way, diminishes the impact of the story. Still, it's an inventive way to showcase this story and its score.

CHITA RIVERA: THE DANCER'S LIFE – Gerald Schoenfeld Theatre, New York

January, 2006. I've been privileged to see the legendary Chita Rivera in Chicago, Kiss of the Spider Woman, The Visit, The Mystery of Edwin Drood, a strange play called Father's Day at Chicago's Ivanhoe Theatre, and the disastrous sequel to Bye Bye Birdie, Bring Back Birdie. She truly is in the highest ranks of theatre icons. Unfortunately, her show was not. Perhaps Elaine Stritch's Elaine Stritch: At Liberty a few years earlier set the bar too high for these autobiographical retrospectives. Perhaps Rivera was just too nice during the evening. Perhaps the execution of a great concept was just too unfocused. Whatever the case, while the evening was modestly entertaining throughout, and though Rivera was charming and disarmingly humble, it just sadly registered as a disappointment. At seventy-three, she still gave us a taste of the younger Rivera dance pizzazz, but most of the dancing was done by her ensemble, carefully chosen to be good enough to be able to pull off the routines with elan, but not good enough to outshine the star of the show, even with Rivera's limited moves. While Rivera's stories were never less than enjoyable, to hear her tell it, she loved everyone she ever worked with, and if a hint of conflict slipped in, it was so innocuous, it was all but non-existent. You don't become a star of Rivera's magnitude without some issues and a more bracing narrative would have helped the show immeasurably. (By contrast, Stritch praised and damned with equal commitment, which made her evening about as thrilling as it gets. You really saw what makes a legend.) I went with a work colleague while on a layover, and she enjoyed the show immensely. For me, the highlight of the evening was running into Angela Lansbury before the show at the back of the orchestra and exchanging some pleasantries before heading upstairs. For the record, she was as gracious as you'd hope. Not a bad evening, but it could have been so much more. – at the Gerald Schoenfeld Theatre, New York

CINDERELLA – The Old Vic, London

January, 2008. Colleen's first panto. In Variety's review of Stephen Fry's only foray, sadly, into pantomime, reviewer David Benedict gave this rather precise description of a panto: "The wildly popular, unfathomably British traditional family entertainment pantomime is vividly theatrical. Age-old vaudeville-style routines are interpolated into fairy tales and the fourth wall is torn down as audiences of all ages loudly cheer heroes, hiss baddies, yell catchphrases and participate fit to bust." The panto is something many Brits grow up on, so the audience at The Old Vic covered every age from young children to aged pensioners. Decidedly not your typical Cinderella tale, Stephen Fry upended tradition by writing the first mainstream panto with a decidedly gay tilt. Narrated by The Great British Baking Show's Sandi Toksvig (in drag), this Cinderella featured the requisite pining beautiful princess, the handsome strapping prince, the evil stepsisters in traditional panto drag, broad performances, and enough bad puns to keep the audience both groaning and laughing. All very traditional panto. But then Fry added an unexpected gay subplot between Cinderella's male BFF Buttons and the Prince's male BFF Dandini, and the result was a panto both sophisticated and silly and totally delightful. Tony-winner Pauline Collins (Shirley Valentine) was the star power in the production, and she chewed scenery with gleeful abandon as an East End Fairy Godmother. Very funny indeed. There was some shirtless action between the Prince and Dandini in a chaste shower scene…you don't get that in Dick Whittington and His Cat! Plus a fabulous score by Anne Dudley, sadly never recorded, terrific scenery, fabulous costumes, and everyone yelling "CAKE!!" It was divine. We had a blast! – at The Old Vic, London

Critics Suck: I frankly thought the show would have been awash with raves. It was clever and fresh, deliciously urban and adult, yet filled with enough action and color to keep the youngest audience members entertained. But, I was wrong. By and large, the critics hated it. Thought it was too crude, filled with too much innuendo and what was with that gay stuff with wee ones in the audience? Horrors! And so, this delightfully subversive treat finished out its run and faded from view. A shame, too. Who needs yet another Dick Whittington?

THE CRUCIFER OF BLOOD – Helen Hayes Theatre, New York

April, 1979. Paul Giovanni's Sherlock Holmes adventure, The Crucifer of Blood, had the misfortune of opening during a newspaper strike. Whether or not that had something to do with its relatively short run is academic. I found the show a bit obtuse at times, but overall entertaining. With an abundance of locales, the show was pretty to look at, loaded with gorgeous Victorian togs, and strongly cast with Paxton Whitehead, as Sherlock Holmes, Timothy Landsfield as Watson, Christopher Curry, Dwight Schultz, Nicolas Surovy (son of opera star Risё Stevens), and a thirty-two-year-old Glenn Close before she became GLENN CLOSE. Based on Arthur Conan Doyle's The Sign of the Four, the plot revolved around a cursed treasure chest, a pact sealed with blood, revenge, treachery, and betrayal. You know, standard matinee stuff. It was made into a 1991 TV movie starring Charlton "Give Me My Guns" Heston, recreating his Los Angeles stage role as Holmes. I've not seen it. Probably the most interesting thing in retrospect about this performance was its venue, the Helen Hayes Theatre, demolished in 1982 along with four other theatres to make way for the Marriott Marquis Hotel and the Marquis Theatre. – at the Helen Hayes Theatre, New York

Death of a Theatre: When the theatre at 210 W. 46th Street opened in 1911, it was called the Folies Bergère, intended to be a dinner theatre. When that failed, it was renamed the Fulton Theatre. In 1955, it was renamed the Helen Hayes in honor of "The First Lady of the American theatre." A two-balcony house seating 1,160, the Hayes housed both plays and a few smaller-scale musicals. One of its longest-running shows was Jean Kerr's Mary, Mary. In 1982, the Hayes, along with the Morosco, Gaiety, Bijou, and Astor Theatres, fell victim to Mayor Ed Koch's plan to clean up Times Square and the theatre district, giving the okay to hotelier John C. Portman, Jr. to construct a huge new hotel on Broadway. Only problem was the location was already occupied by five theatres. Even though the Morosco and the Hayes were both deemed eligible for the National Register of Historic Places, the demolition of the theatres began in 1982. Demolition was briefly halted by a temporary injunction, but that was overturned, and the "Great Theatre Massacre of 1982" was the result. As part of the deal cementing the five theatres' fate, the Portmans agreed to build a theatre within their hotel structure. True to their word, the Marquis Theatre opened in 1986, a handsome 1,611 venue that has become a sought-after venue for musicals. All Broadway houses are now on the National Register, preventing, hopefully, another theatre massacre. It's a sad coda that the final production to play at the Hayes was a one-performance flop by Oliver Hailey called I Won't Dance. The former Little Theatre on West 44th was renamed the Helen Hayes Theatre in 1983, then simply the Hayes Theatre in 2018. The Hayes is the smallest house on Broadway.

The Helen Hayes. When I saw Crucifer, the First Balcony was the Mezzanine and the Second Balcony was the Balcony. 

 Stately and beautiful.

This just breaks my heart. The Helen Hayes in its final moments. Sad, sad, sad.

And on that final dramatic and sad image…. It's still not safe out there. Stay at home! Social distancing is your friend!

© 2020 Jeffrey Geddes