What's up at "Leap of Faith"? And my regular bitching and moaning...

I actually caught LOF about a week and a half ago, but since I've been practically living at the CDC theatre for the last week or so because of Carousel, I've not had much time to write.  Yes, I know, everyone's busy and I'm just a big, fat whiner.  But hypothetically, if you're an actor and you can't commit to - oh, let's say at least 60% of the rehearsals for a show - why do you even bother to audition?

Or once you find out the extent of the commitment, why do you except the job offer anyway?  Am I being unreasonable?  Crazy?  Both??  Someone please explain this to me because like an idiot, I've actually attended every rehearsal.

Ugh, I'm going to stop right now before I start an angry, bitchy rant that offends community theatre actors everywhere.  Not that propriety has ever stopped me from squarely planting my foot down my throat in the past.  God knows, I'm surely at the top of any NJ theatre blacklist.

But as I get older, I find it more and more difficult to politely keep my complaints and frustrations to myself.  If there's such a thing as incontinence of thought, someone get me a value pack of super absorbent adult diapers stat because I've recently developed a unique strain of diarrhea of the mouth I like to call "did-I-say-that-out-loud?" syndrome. You know the saying, "If you have nothing nice to say, don't say anything at all"?  If I abided by that particular bon mot I'd literally have nothing left to say.

I already see myself fifteen years down the road pushing a shopping cart down the street and yelling obscenities at people who unknowingly step into my path.  I finally understand where they're coming from.  And I accept the fact I will likely be a crazy, raving lunatic that people cross the street to avoid.

But back to the original topic at hand...

I'll post my review separately, but it seems the producers over at the St. James Theatre are having trouble filling the house for LOF.  It's regularly on TDF (where I got my tickets) and I received an email just last week from the production office offering free tickets to performances through the weekend.  It's a major, new Alan (Little Mermaid, Aladdin, Beauty & the Beast, et al) Menken Broadway musical and they're giving tickets away through a mass email?  Sounds pretty desperate to me.

I actually enjoyed the show, but apparently I'm in the minority.

I should also give a shout out to the always wonderful Kendra Kassebaum (she plays the lead character's sister) who I worked with on a national tour of Grease! years ago - in another lifetime - back when we didn't all have cell phones or laptops.  We whiled away the hours on the tour bus reading actual books - yes, made out of paper - and listening to CDs - you know, those round, silver thingies we now use as coasters.

I shall always fondly remember Kendra and Gaelen Gilliland entertaining the cast on long bus rides with their over-the-back-of-the-seat puppet shows.  Oh, how I long for those simpler days of yore.

Happy friggin' birthday to me...

I am now firmly ensconced in my fifth decade of life.  Forty two years of debauchery and licentiousness have not been kind to my body judging from the random aches and pains that seem to materialize out of thin air.

A two hour dance rehearsal that once left me exhilarated now finds me limping and sore.  But even though what's under the hood is rusty and leaking, there's still a shamwow shine to my exterior thanks to a good set of inherited genes.  If my parents are any indication, I shall remain eternally youthful into old age.

On my 30th Birthday I rented out the back room of a trendy midtown bar, sent a mass email to everyone I knew and partied all night.  This year, I schlepped my tired ass to the CDC theatre where I spent my very special day splattered in paint and sweat.  No, it was not some kinky birthday surprise.  Instead, I whiled the day away building and painting sets for Carousel and rehearsing.  Oh, how the mighty have fallen.  Luckily, Juan and Val were right there with me.

For the first day of the forty-second year of my existence I happily settled for a nice quiet dinner at the local Thai restaurant, a big glass of red wine and an evening splayed on the couch watching reality TV.

Partying is severely over-rated anyway.

Unlike most of the civilized world, my weekends are not a time to rest and recuperate from the daily grind of the week.  Enjoy a Sunday afternoon stroll through the park?  A leisurely brunch at a cozy cafe?  A lazy Saturday on the couch catching up on missed TV?  Yeah, right.  How's this for leisurely - Friday, work eight hours in the office and then commute to NJ to play in the pit for Little Women; Saturday, spend the morning building sets and then play a matinee and evening performance of Little Women;  Sunday, rehash elementary school memories papier mache-ing dock posts and painting sets at the CDC Theatre and then lead a 3 hour Carousel rehearsal.

After a weekend like that, sitting in my comfy, ergonomic desk chair with nothing more strenuous to do than type on a keyboard and answer a phone seems like a day at the spa.

I can only fantasize about those lazy weeks in June when all I'll have to do is work one full-time job and not have to double commute mid-week for a rehearsal in Jersey where I'll be on time, yet everyone else will be late even though my commute is time twice as long and I'm relying on public transportation.

God, I'm bitchy these days, right?  Maybe I still haven't recovered from Oprah canceling The Rosie Show.  Though two lesbian day-time talk show hosts (Ellen/Rosie) does seem like overkill.  More likely, it's because the annoying Big Brother team hasn't yet been eliminated from The Amazing Race.  I just want to strangle that Rachel with one of her ridiculous sequined tank tops every time she starts whining about how tired or frustrated she is.  Oh, and can you believe how fierce Michelle Obama looked on The Biggest Loser?

Or maybe I just watch too much reality TV.

Carrie

MCC Theater at the Lucille Lortel
Thursday, April 5, 2012
7pm performance

If you were trying to prove the theory that the gay gene and the musical theatre gene are indeed one in the same, one need look no further than the buffed-out, tight-t-shirt-clad audience cruising each other outside the Lucille Lortel Theatre last night.  Who knew the gays were also such fans of the macabre?  I guess the West Village is too far for straighties to travel for a theatre fix.

Anyway...after realizing Carrie closes this Sunday, I jumped online in a panic to purchase a ticket.  As always, the last minute strategy paid off with a row F center orchestra ticket.  A cult favorite with the theatre queen set, the original production of Carrie is one of Broadway's legendary flops, closing just five days after opening.

So why try to resuscitate this dud?  Well, most of the show's admirers point to the Pitchford/Gore score.  It was my first time hearing it, but I'm a sucker for a piano bar sing-along of "I Sing the Body Electric" (who isn't, really?), so my expectations were set remarkably high.

I'll admit the score does offer up some pretty thrilling musical moments, but overall the lyrics are pretty clunky and at times laughable.  Luckily, both Molly Ransom (Carrie) and Marin Mazzie (Margaret, Carrie's über Christian mother) overcome the lyrical shortfalls by acting the hell out of their songs and belting the shit out of every corny metaphor and false rhyme.  Funny how a well belted high "E" can make even the worst lyric seem like Shakespeare.

The book is also problematic.  It seems the writers couldn't decide on a unified tone for the piece and the show alternates between teen angst and a Disney Channel comedy (think "Dawson's Creek" sprinkled with "Saved By the Bell" one-liners).  Yet despite these shortcomings, I found myself totally captivated by the production.

To be honest, the girls' locker room scene sold it for me.  Let's just say there was blood and chanting ("Plug it up!  Plug it up!") involved.  You ain't gonna' see that at Lion King.

Marin Mazzie is fucking scary (in a good way)! With that huge mouth and bugged out eyes, I'd sure be scared of meeting her Margaret in a dark alley.  And how the hell is she able to sing so well while crying?  Someone needs to write a show where she and Carolee Carmello can play belting sisters.  Just the thought of it makes my nether regions tingle with delight.

The choreography and musical staging were adequate, though a blatant rip-off of Bill T. Jones Tony-winning work on Spring Awakening.  Regardless, the cast was energetic and committed, though several appear to have flunked their senior year multiple times.

Some of the special effects were interesting (floating Jesus statue) while others were just cheesy.  Projections were mainly used to good effect, but I do miss "real" sets.

I can't wait until we're treated to some truly "scary" regional productions once the licensing becomes available.