A Day

What I need (and what I want... odd that, for once, they're the same thing) is a day alone in Central Parl. I think Friday might just be that day. I hope the weather permits.

I've decided to rid myself of Facebook for a little while. It's not that I have anything against Facebook; I think it's a remarkable networking tool and an all-around wonderful thing to have at my disposal. However, it is undeniably true that I, over the past few months, have become truly addicted. I have more free time than I ever had in high school (not complaining, mind you), therefore I spend exponentially greater amounts of time on Facebook. I take stalking to a new level. I delve/ dive/ rip/ roar into people's lives, and they never even know it. It's time for a little break.

Separation anxiety is inevitable.

I have brutally fiery emotions. They're always there, always active. I cannot stop feeling. Ever.

I'd rather feel too much than feel nothing at all.

Let's hope a day in Central Park will ease all this paranoia, this worry, this personal hostility, this fluid from my current place and drift me back into a happier, calmer state. I think it's just the medicine I need- a cure even Tylenol PM cannot provide.

Excitement

Well, I, for one, am thoroughly excited. "Spiderman: Turn Off the Dark." It's going to be historically awful or historically awesome. I can't wait to be there for history regardless.

Little Flame

I have got to somehow refocus my life on the things that I should be focusing on. Somehow, over the last few weeks, things have become muddled and astray. Let's get them back together. I came here with a purpose. Remember it, remember it.

Where There Were Trees

Let's not get into all the details. Irrelevant at this point.

My mother sent me a Halloween-style care package. I received it today. So festive and exciting. Who knew they made chocolate covered Peeps? Seriously! Heaven in my mouth. Delicioso.

I miss watching Food Network every night before I go to bed. I feel like maybe I am a little less culinarily adventurous or even creative because of my lack of Ina. Less classy at least. Ina is class.

I have this cut on my right hand, and it has continued to hurt since Saturday morning when I noticed it. Go away, mean cut. Just go away.

I watched "Sunday in the Park with George" this morning. The song "Children and Art" never fails to shock me. I always somehow forget what that song has to say, but when I listen to it again, it all comes back to me. Children and art- that's all we leave behind. Perhaps we should form both of them with love and tender care from the heart.

There's a particular tragedy- perhaps you can put your finger on it- that comes to mind whenever I listen to that song and reflect on that idea. Children and art. CHILDREN and art.

Hypocrisy

I feel like such a complete and utter hypocrite.

"Memphis" was without a doubt one of the worst musicals I have ever seen on a Broadway stage, BUT somehow (and by somehow, I mean by my own incessant), Montego Glover's big act one ultra-predictable power ballad "Colored Woman" has made it to my Top 25 Most Played playlist on my iPod.

I guess it's my own special affinity for a good ole power ballad. I mean, come on. Who doesn't get that little tingly feeling in their body when the first few words of "And I'm Telling You" are sung? I should clarify that I am in no way placing "Colored Woman" on the same level as "And I Am Telling You." Heck no. Nor could I even begin to place Montego Glover, with her strident belt and nothing else, on the same level as many of the infamous Effie White through the years. JHud, anyone? Jennifer Holliday, anyone? I just... like it. I suppose that's nothing to be ashamed of. There's maybe out one salvageable song in the score- a "Walking in Memphis" rip-off finale that I, because I left during intermission, wasn't able to see performed.

Oh, well. It happens.

True Glamour

Nothing today came as a surprise. It seems written in the stars that today would be a struggle for me. And oh, was it ever!

Irrelevant though... to linger on. What is... is. Beautiful.

What is to come, what is lingering in the days ahead- now, there's the wonder in it all!

I'm in New York. I'm living my dream. My personal "glamorous life." My, how unglamorous it feels sometimes! But glamorous it is. Let's revel in the glamour once again! Shall we?

Soft as Thunder

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1jjBpXXnKIs

Daphne Rubin-Vega's stunning rendition of "I Dream a Dream."

It's proof that the genius in the performance of a song does not always lie in the vocal prowess. Stunning.

Now

I know I won't look back and say "All of this was easy."

Tell Me It Doesn't Make You Stop

The Wounded Angel by Hugo Simberg.

The subject of much thought, much contemplation and even much worry through my life.

I will turn in a 7-paged essay, of which I am honestly proud, on Tuesday that centers around this very painting- more specifically, the eyes of the boy in the brown coat.

Funny, isn't it?

Happy Family

Marin Mazzie, Jason Daniely and I.

Second Time

It was a Broadway dream. I saw a show for a second time, and that second time was a completely new experience- a much more impacting, even more beautiful one. It was "Next to Normal." But this time, I wasn't marveling at the electricity radiating from every pore of Alice Ripley's presence. I was feeling.

Thank you, Marin Mazzie. Thank you, Jason Daniely. Thank you to a remarkable cast. Thank you.

Guess what I get to do tomorrow night? Yes, that's right. I'm seeing it again. A third time. Impact me!

Peace

We do it all to keep from unraveling.

We smile. We breathe. We interact.

It's all to keep our ball of yarn from falling apart- speeding across the floor in a line of straightened chaos. It's death by oneself. It's a natural fate.

Instead, we humans do something else. We do everything else.

And we do it all to keep from unraveling.

Remember September

It seems as though September never happened. Well, did it?

I didn't feel like I was so far from home, though- I suppose- I am realizing that now. September was rejuvenating for me, good for me in many ways.

I guess I was, to steal from some famous song in some long-running musical, a tender and callow fellow.

I'll go on trying to remember September and simultaneously looking ahead at October, November, December drawing near.

Last fall, I lived in lyrics penned by Taylor Swift- a dark place for such cheery melodic tunefulness. I have to keep myself from returning to them again.

I can feel it happening. My God.

Oddity

It seems quite odd that my last post was about my unrivaled anticipation for "Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown."

Saw it. Bleh.

Happy News

Laura Benanti, Patti LuPone, Sherie Rene Scott, Danny Burstein and Brian Stokes Mitchell- all in one musical. And to top it all off, Bartlett Sher (the genius behind "The Light in the Piazza" and the breathtaking "South Pacific" revival) is directing. "Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown" is going to be phenomenal. 

Welcome, my friends, to Broadway heaven. 

Only a Few Lines Remembered

I was very lucky to have the chance to play Henry the old Shakespearean actor in a production of "The Fantasticks" this fall. November is fall, right? I got to deliver some really searing lines that really affected me then and have continued to stay with me.

"Remember me- in light."

I'm back in Memphis after what seems like a whirlwind of vacations. A week in Disney World. A few days in Chattanooga. A quick stay in Mobile. Plenty of food, plenty of fun, plenty of hours in the car. 

This is what just so happens to be my final week at work. All of my younger friends will be returning to school in about a week, so I will have a little less than a month somewhat to myself. I suppose I should take that time to get my life together and, well, prepare myself for what's ahead of me. 

I was given this one quote today. To be quite honest, I am still working on figuring it out and making complete sense of it. I need a park to sit in. I need to go there and simply think about these words- apply them, relate them, breathe them.

"Good writers define reality; bad ones merely restate it. A good writer turns fact into truth; a bad writer will, more often than not, accomplish the opposite."

Edward Albee said it... or wrote it. 

I'll try to lose myself in thought and find the meaning along the way. 

The Infamous Hot Pink Heels

Sported by Thomas Wade Bonds.

Looking Forward

Oh, ladies. I will be seeing you very soon. 

Staying Up Too Late

I've been staying up far too late. It's the summer epidemic. It hits my bedroom every summer and never fails. I suppose I could control it, but why waste the energy?

I'd rather just sit on Facebook, listening to Christina Perri sing "Jar of Hearts", watch Broadway videos on the ever-helpful YouTube, and dream with my eyes wide open.

I do a lot of dreaming with my eyes open. That way- I don't have to wake up from them and realize they aren't real. I can dream knowing it's just a dream and not have to face the fall.

The fall. An eternal fixture; an eternal fear.

"You're going to catch a cold from the ice inside your soul. Don't come back for me. Who do you think you are?"

Oh, how I wish I could say that!

Oh, how I wish I could say that! and mean it!

PROMISES, PROMISES Review

Promises, Promises with Sean Hayes & Kristin Chenoweth

Friday, July 9, 2010 Broadway Theatre

I kept myself from believing all of the negative things I had been hearing about the PROMISES, PROMISES revival until I could actually see the show and make my own opinions. Unfortunately, they were mostly all true.

I’ve never seen a production of this show before, so I was going into this one very new to the piece.

Sean Hayes was wonderful. A fabulous Broadway debut. He really was perfect for that role. He nailed every joke and made that character so lovable. His singing was more than good, and he carried all of his numbers with a real sense of know-how. The audience was certainly on his side, and he really kept Chuck from coming off as pitiful, which I think could have been a very easy thing to do. Brantley, in his review of the show, commented on how the audience likes Chuck but never really feels for Chuck. However, I think that’s just the way this character is written. The book doesn’t allow the audience to feel too terribly sorry for Chuck, and I don’t really see that as a problem. Hayes’ chair bit in Sheldrake’s office was truly inspired. Absolutely hilarious. Hayes was completely deserving of his Tony nomination and real contender against Hodge and Grammer.

 As act one came to an end, I had only one thing in my mind- “Why, Kristin Chenoweth, would this be the show you chose to return to Broadway in?” I honestly have to wonder why she felt this would be a good role for her. It’s not a funny role. I honestly can’t remember Chenoweth garnering one single (maybe one or two) laughs the entire show. I guess it’s a “dramatic” role, but calling Fran a real dramatic character is laughable with some of the other juicy leading female roles on Broadway right now. Fran’s two new songs are awkwardly spliced into the script, especially “I Say a Little Prayer” which makes absolutely no sense in context. Why is she so happy to be receiving these flowers when she has every intention to snub the man she’s meeting up with? “A House Is Not a Home”, which is a much better vocal fit for Chenoweth than the former addition, makes a little more sense in context but still seems very forced when the audience has just recently learned that Fran does, in fact, not live alone.

But here is my biggest problem with Chenoweth in this role. Fran is, to me, supposed to be a very desperate, very impressionable young girl. If Chenoweth was a complete unknown playing this role, I might be able to buy that from her. But she’s not. She’s Kristin Chenoweth. She’s one of Broadway best divas of today. Fran is NOT a diva role. That’s not to say that Chenoweth must resign herself to only playing diva roles for the rest of her stage career, but young waif is no longer in her repertoire. And if she’s going to try to play a young waif, she’s going to have to do a little more than she does here or find herself a character that’s got a little more meat. Fran is really a supporting role with a few extra songs.

Thank God for Katie Finneran. She was just as funny and just as sizzling as everyone says. That’s a performance for the history books.

Tony Goldwyn couldn’t be more boring as Sheldrake, and “Wanting Things” really should have been cut. It’s pretty awful. Dick Latessa was very funny and endearing. I would’ve liked to have seen him in some of the Tony discussions. I definitely would have picked him over the dreadful De Jesus in LA CAGE. Brooks Ashmanskas was great too- really welcome energy. The quartet of married men was one of the strongest parts of the show.

Ashford’s choreography was fabulous in parts and so unnecessary in others. “She Likes Basketball” didn’t need anything but Hayes’ charm to make it work, but Ashford forced that dance number in there, which, of course, garnered unnecessary applause in the middle of he song. The opening really was thrilling, and “Turkey Lurkey Time” was nice but in no way stopped the show as it should. I wish Megan Sikora would get herself into a better role. She was so great in CURTAINS. I hated that Chenoweth sat on that desk as the girls danced around her during “I Say a Little Prayer.” Since when is Chenoweth unable to dance?

Scott Pask’s scenic design was a mixed bag. The apartment set was nice, and the overall look of the set was transporting. But that stage just seemed so empty for most of the show. It was a lot of simple push-ons and fly-ins that didn’t really do much for me. The lighting by Donald Holder was, however, remarkable. That sunrise through windows effect in act two is most definitely some of the best lighting I have ever seen onstage.

Rob Ashford did some great things with this show. It’s a fun night at the theatre. But I can’t say he made it a great show in general. There are moments that are spectacular. There are performances that are spectacular. But together, it’s very hit and miss.