Armchair Actorvist

Friday Dance Party: She Could Go On Singing

2012-01-27T11:53:00.002-05:00

The death of a Hollywood insider a few weeks ago inspires, as such things often do, this week's Dance Party.

Robert Dozier

1930-2012

He can easily be called a Hollywood insider, as he was a member of an extended family of writers, producers, actors, and songsmiths. His father was prolific writer/producer William Dozier, who remains on my radar for his guidance of the oddball, kitschy, totally outrageous TV series Batman in the 60s (son Robert wrote a few episodes of that campy classic).

Robert Dozier wrote the Batman episode which introduced
Caesar Romero as The Joker

Dozier's widow, actress Diana Muldaur,
as Rosalind Shays in L.A. Law

Bob called both Joan Fontaine and Ann Rutherford (of Gone With the Wind fame) stepmom, at various times in his life, and through his marriage to actress Diana Muldaur (who is one of my favorite supporting stars of television), was in-law to folk singer/songwriter Geoff Muldaur and his two daughters Jenni and Clare Muldaur, as well as Geoff's ex-wife, Maria Muldaur (and no, this week's Dance Party is NOT "Midnight at the Oasis").

Got all that? Me neither, but back to Bob. He grew up in Hollywood, graduating from Beverly Hills High, and after a stint in the army, embarked on a pretty substantial career writing for the screen.

Dozier wrote promotional films while in the service.

His name is often mentioned alongside those of Paddy Chayefsky, Rod Serling, and Reggie Rose, as one of the leading writers of television's Golden Age. His autobiographical teleplay Deal A Blow was successful enough to be adapted to the big screen, becoming The Young Stranger, which afforded John Frankenheimer his first feature film directing credit. James MacArthur was the stand-in for Dozier, as a young man ignored by his movie producer father.

The Young Stranger, Dozier's autobiographical film,
starred James MacArthur, with Kim Hunter and James Daly
as his distant parents

TV's Dan August provided an early break
for Burt Reynolds

Bob had a long career in episodic television, writing or producing for dozens of shows including Dr. Kildaire, Have Gun Will Travel, Harry O, Dan August, Hawaii Five-O, The Devlin Connection, and so many others.

Diana Muldaur, as a blind navigator
in the original Star Trek

He retired from show business in 1989 (his talented wife Diana did as well; you'd recognize her from various Star Trek franchises, and from her stint as barracuda Rosalind Shays on L.A.Law). Our hero died January 6 at the age of 81.

This week's Dance Party comes from one of Robert Dozier's story credits, which, in 1963, provided Judy Garland with her final film appearance.

I Could Go On Singing had a melodramatic storyline, all about a famous singer who attempts to reconnect with a son she gave up years earlier. The plot's pretty standard, but the film showcases some outstanding concert sequences. Publicity for the film trumpeted Garland's return to musical films; she had not sung in a movie since A Star is Born in 1954. They even changed the title of the flick, from The Lonely Stage ( a much more appropriate title) to I Could Go On Singing, to remind moviegoers they were hearing Judy sing for the first time in 9 years. In this clip, which is the final song of the film, we can see all the idiosyncratic movements and vocal inflections which give Garland impersonators so much material; still, it's hard to deny her power, even in middle age.

Friday Dance Party: "And I'll Bury Ye, My Billy"

2012-01-20T02:40:00.005-05:00

as Johnny the Snitch, "Police Squad!"

William Duell

1923-2011

The New York Times called him "puckish," as he was barely five and a half feet tall, and weighed under 140 throughout his adult life. He had a masters degree from Yale School of Drama; one of his classmates, Paul Newman, helped him snag a role in The Hustler in 1961.

Before hitting the big screen, however, he set a record of sorts, with his appearance in the legendary Off-Broadway revival of Threepenny Opera (the one with Lotte Lenya, Bea Arthur, Charlotte Rea, and all those folks).

"Threepenny Opera,"
with Jesse Martin as MacHeath

He remained with the long-running show for the entirety of its 6 years. He would return to the piece in the Joe Papp revival (the one with Raul Julia) and at Williamstown Theatre Festival, opposite Jesse Martin. Duell's oddball features and diminutive stature probably doomed him to the quirky roles which he played on stage and screen. In 1975's One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, he played an epileptic afraid of his own medicine, and in TV's Police Squad!, he played Johnny the Snitch opposite Leslie Nielsen.

"One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest"

In the Nathan Lane revival of A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, he played the ancient Erronius, searching for his long-lost children by circling the seven hills of Rome.

With Mark Lynn-Baker and Nathan Lane

He reunited with Lane in the Broadway revival of The Man Who Came To Dinner,playing the hapless doctor hoodwinked by Sheridan Whiteside.

All of the above supporting roles would warrant Duell's inclusion in these pages, but it was his participation in one of my favorite musicals which seals the deal.

Our hero created the role of McNair, the custodian for the Second Continental Congress, in the original production of 1776. I have written previously about my admiration for this outstanding musical, so it's understandable that the news of Williams Duell's death would be of interest to me. McNair is definitely a supporting character on the canvas of the show, but Duell's participation helped make the role a memorable one.

Duell as McNair is seated below the tally board,
over William Daniels's left shoulder

He was the only original cast member to remain with the show throughout its Broadway run, never missing a performance. When the show was revived in 1997, he joined that cast as a replacement for the role of Caesar Rodney, the Delaware delegate dying of cancer. Most importantly, Duell's performance in the role of McNair is preserved in the film version of the show.
This week's Dance Party comes from 1776, the film. The music in the show is so beautifully intertwined with the story, that none of the songs are easily lifted from the score to stand alone.

Scott Jarvis's Courier sings the plaintive
song which mirrored anti-Vietnam sentiment

"Mama, Look Sharp," though, has had some further life as a cabaret favorite. When 1776 premiered in 1969, it garnered negative reaction from the Nixon White House, as it was thought to be a stinging rebuke of the conservative party and its obstructionist policies; the authors denied such intentions. The point of this song, however, cannot be denied, as it poignantly illustrates the sacrifice which soldiers make in times of war. I had the privilege of singing backup on this song several years ago, when I appeared in a concert staged reading of the show at the reopening of the Smithsonian's National Portrait Gallery. I was playing Mr. Thompson, the congressional secretary. In the original piece, the character is not onstage at this moment, but in most productions these days, he is added to the scene to provide 3-part harmony on this most haunting of ballads.

The following clip includes a bit of the dialogue preceding the number, and shows a little of William Duell's performance as McNair (he's the older imp, smoking the pipe). He died in December at the age of 88.

Theatre Droppings: Basketball, Writers' Block, and the Boys in the Bar

2012-01-17T07:29:00.002-05:00

When the closing notice for Broadway's Lysistrata Jones went up, I hurried down to catch their final Wednesday matinee.

The lovely and talented Jessica Hartman, who helped me learn all that tricky hand choreography in Joe's Coat last year, was the show's assistant choreographer, otherwise the show may not have been on my radar. I was very glad to see it, and remain convinced that it could not make a go of it on Broadway because of lousy producing.

It's a delightful show, full of peppy numbers and hilarious quips, and the gang playing it can't be improved upon. The show began in Dallas, I believe, and then had a very successful run in a gymnasium in Manhattan.

The producers moved the show uptown too early, or did not capitalize the move well enough, or something, but there is no excuse for the show to falter so soon, after raves from everybody, including the New York Times.

The ensemble is terrific, with Jason Tam standing out as a geeky booknik, and if somebody doesn't put Lindsay Chambers in a sitcom, the whole world is crazy.

I've heard that a cast album will be recorded, which will give a boost to post-Broadway productions; with its small cast of 20-somethings, the show is sure to have a full life on college campuses.

I have seen a couple of non-musicals lately, too. Alan Rickman is headlining a new comedy called Seminar, so I booked a seat in the back row, high in the nosebleed section. Here's another piece which will have further life on college campuses, as it concerns a writing seminar attended by four 20-somethings, and a maniacally unhappy instructor with a distinct lack of people skills.

Rickman is the antagonist, and has the least amount of stage time, but the greatest amount of zingers.

I was most impressed with the actors playing the central couple. Lily Rabe made a big splash opposite Al Pacino's Shylock a while back, and she's worth every rave.

I was familiar with Hamish Linklater only through his sitcom work (he played Julia Louis-Dreyfus's brother in her show), and I greatly admire his decision to return to the New York stage after making his television money. He's done Shakespeare and other classics around town, and is making his Broadway debut as the self-deprecating writer who clashes with Rickman in Seminar.

Finally, I took some advice I got from a local online website I visit, DC Theatre Scene.

They carry reviews of all the shows in the DC area, but they also have a NY correspondent, a man named Richard Seff. It was his rave of an off-off Broadway premiere called Accidentally, Like A Martyr which persuaded me to pop down to the lower east side one cold evening. Manhattan is filled to the brim with hole-in-the-wall black box theaters putting on plays, so Seff's recommendation was the only way I would have even heard about this piece.

It was written and directed by a gent called Grant James Varjas, who also wrote himself a dynamite role (and wouldn't you?).

I am sure I have seen this actor before, but I cannot remember where (if you know, please tell me!) Anyway, the play is very well-written and performed, and takes place in a dive bar catering to older gay men. The reviewer described it as a successor to The Boys In The Band, and I won't quibble with that, though it's decidedly better written than that 1960s snarkfest. I was very glad to have taken Mr. Seff's advice and schlepped down to see the show.

You can read Seff's review here, by the way, though you won't see any mention in his rave that he contributed money toward the show's production. That fact would not necessarily have dissuaded me from seeing the show, but I'm frankly surprised that he did not disclose his financial support of the production, even as he raved about its artistry.

Maybe I'm just too old-fashioned to believe that, if a critic is a backer of a show, he really should disclose that information when he delivers an unqualified positive review, particularly one which urges Off-Broadway producers to pick up the show, so that it can have a "long and profitable life." Perhaps those kinds of ethics are gone these days.

I've certainly busted my budget the past few weeks, seeing all these shows, I hope I can figure out a cheaper way to assuage my habit. Maybe a job? Well, I wouldn't go that far...

Theatre Droppings: When Harry Met David

2012-01-15T03:13:00.021-05:00

I have got to start resisting the temptation, when I'm visiting my New York Branch, to pop over to the TKTS booth in Times Square. Even at half price, Broadway shows are just not in my budget, but that has not stopped me in the past few weeks.

Ignoring the advice of all the critics, I was very curious about the major remount/rethink/reconfiguration of the 60s musical, On A Clear Day You Can See Forever.

Barbara Harris and John Collum
couldn't save the original

I'd never seen a production of the stage show, nobody ever does it. Despite having won a Tony nomination for star Barbara Harris back in the 60s, the show has never seen a major revival, and the movie version, the 3rd film in the triumvirate of stage-to-screen musicals which introduced Barbra Streisand to Hollywood, is not fondly remembered.

Streisand wakes up the flowers,
but delivers a quirky snooze.

The score has some swell items, so clearly, there was book trouble here. With the blessing of the estates of the originators, substantial work was done on the show, to make it more appealing to a modern audience. I believe the changes are viable (I think most of the NY critics disagree), and I enjoyed the performances of all the supporting leads. The new writers reconfigured the story so that the role which Ms Harris and Ms Streisand played is now being played by David Turner, in an endearing and heartfelt performance as a gay man falling in love with his straight shrink (look for Turner's name when the Tony nominations come out).

As David Gamble, Turner creates a sweetly confused gay man with commitment issues.

His is a light, lyrical take on the score, and it's been said his vocal performance is weak, but he stops the show cold with his dramatically satisfying anthem, "What Did I Have That I Don't Have".

David Turner and Drew Gehling

Drew Gehling, as boyfriend Warren (played in the film by straight-arrow Larry Blyden), has the best pipes in the show, and has been gifted with "Love With All The Trimmings," a song written for Streisand in the movie. I think the ultimate failure of this production, which is closing at the end of the month after a disappointing run, lies with its star.

Harry Connick smiles in all the promo shots,
but rarely cracks one onstage

Harry Connick, Jr., is playing the psychiatrist, and his participation has slanted the focus of the show; it now centers around his character's recovery from his wife's death. The doctor, as in the original, falls in love with his patient's former life (it was always this 60s-style reincarnation stuff which tripped up the story). In this case, "Melinda" has been updated to be a big band singer from the 40s. This adjustment is rather an awkward one, but it allows the addition of other standards from the Lerner/Lane musical canon to be shoehorned into the show.

In the original, Melinda was an 18th century aristocrat.
Here, she's a 1940s band singer.

Jessie Mueller, playing this alter-ego from the past, does a great job with this role, but her performance depends on a chemistry with the show's star. Harry Connick is a crooner of the first order, but his star power has always had a low wattage for me, and this show reinforces my impression.

Nobody wanted to see Connick fall for a man,
so Patient Gamble was split in two.

This guy is no actor, but the redesigned script requires one, so, despite stellar performances from the actors surrounding him, Harry fails to deliver anything near a complete performance.

Friday Dance Party: Doe In The Headlights

2012-01-13T20:13:00.001-05:00

This week's Dance Party is inspired, as so often happens, by a dead person.

Doe Avedon

1925-2011

If you're wondering what the hell kind of name is "Doe", you should know that this model/actress/office worker was christened "Dorcas."

That's one of those Shakespearean names which nobody should inflict upon their child. Anyway, our heroine was working part time as a fashion model when she was noticed by famed photographer Richard Avedon. He married her, gave her a new name, and during a period in the 1950s and 60s, she was one of those celebrities who was famous for being famous.

The story of her romance with Avedon lives on, as the basis of the Fred Astaire / Audrey Hepburn musical film, Funny Face.

The clip below is from that film, and it has gained some notoriety on its own. In 2006, The Gap snagged the rights to this bit, and did some computer magic to give Hepburn the starring role in their commercial for "the skinny black pant." The commercial is expertly done, but how successful it was in improving sales to girls who had no idea who Audrey Hepburn was, is debatable.

And you either hate the idea of using old dead celebrities to hawk your product, or you don't care (Audrey's costar in Funny Face turned up dancing with a vacuum cleaner a while back. Yuck.) But here is the clip, pure and unadulterated, from the 1957 release. Hepburn is really in top form here, dancing the hell out of this Bohemian-tinged choreography.

As for our Doe, who was the inspiration for the character Hepburn plays here, she remained with Richard Avedon only 5 years, enough time to give her a minor career as an actress. Eventually, she remarried, this time to film director Don Siegel of Dirty Harry fame, and she faded from public life. She died in December at the age of 86.

Friday Dance Party: Whatever Lola Erps

2012-01-06T21:15:00.000-05:00

At the risk of mixing my social media, Facebook was all atwitter this week, with a new game. I'm a team player (though I was always picked last for any team I ever encountered), so I thought I'd play along. The challenge was this: determine what song was sitting atop the music charts the week you were born, then find a version of it on YouTube, and post it on Facebook.

I find it fascinating that YouTube has become so universal that it's assumed one can find a version of any song in existence on the site. But I'm not complaining, since 98% of all my Dance Party clips come from the site. Anyway, as the week progressed, I got depressed. It seemed like all of my Facebook friends, at least the ones who were participating in the challenge, were posting "birth week" songs to which I was listening in high school or college. I don't like feeling elderly, but this game made me feel so. Nevertheless, I investigated my own birth week, only to discover that the Billboard charts, which determine which song is #1, hadn't even been invented yet. But by examining record sales and other historical hoohah, we can now determine which songs WOULD have been chart toppers, if there had been a chart to top.

The big winner my birth week seemed to be a substantial hit, as it remained #1 on this retroactive chart for several weeks.

I had never heard of the thing, and with good reason. It's a lousy song called "The Wayward Wind," and it was introduced by a singer nobody has ever heard of these days, a woman named Gogi Grant (sounds like a cartoon character, doesn't it?). In another example of how ubiquitous YouTube has become, there is actually a clip out there, of Gogi singing her big hit, but it's so friggin' boring, I can't bring myself to post it. Go here if you are deranged enough to want to hear it.

I didn't want to give up completely on this new Facebook game, so I wondered what else was happening the year of my birth? Naturally, my thoughts turned to Broadway, and what do you know? The Tony Award for Best Musical that year was (drumroll, please): Damn Yankees.

Damn Yankees is not one of my favorite musicals, but it was one of my favorite theatrical experiences. The role of Mr. Applegate, the Devil, was a dream role of mine, and back in the early 90s, I had the chance to play it at the Glendale Centre Theatre in California. I was so pleased with my performance that I posted a clip of my big number as a Dance Party a few years ago. You missed it? Go here.

I won't torture you with another clip of my production of Damn Yankees (though the show was a very good rendition).

Instead, this week's Dance Party comes from the film version. This movie (which is deeply flawed, primarily by the casting of the non-musical boytoy Tab Hunter as the romantic lead) is important, as it preserves one of the great stage performances of the era. Gwen Verdon's portrayal of the devilishly seductive Lola caused a sensation on Broadway, but it didn't translate all that well onto film.

That's not Verdon's fault. She became recognized, on the strength of Damn Yankees, as the premiere interpreter of choreographer Bob Fosse's work. The fact that she was sleeping with him had nothing to do with it (and when Ann Reinking became known as HER generation's premiere interpreter of Bob Fosse's work, that didn't have anything to do with the fact that she was sleeping with him, either).

The song which is this week's Dance Party has absolutely nothing to do with the plot of Damn Yankees, it doesn't even make much sense. While the show is the Faust legend updated to 1950s suburbia, the song below is just another opportunity to show off Verdon's unusual dance technique. And who better to partner her in the number than her Svengali, Bob Fosse himself?

Charon's Lighter Load

2012-01-02T02:07:00.003-05:00

Regular visitors to these pages are likely to bump into the occasional obituary/tribute to someone whose life, I think, had importance. Well, "occasional" is an understatement, but I'm doing better than earlier years. Last year at this time, I made a resolution to reduce the number of eulogies I write. And, believe it or not, I have done so. 2010 saw well over 100 of these little obits, while 2011 saw only (drumroll please) 74.
You wouldn't expect me to dispense with the tributes altogether, would you?

Elizabeth Taylor makes a cameo on "General Hospital"

When a superstar/humanitarian/serial matrimonialist like Elizabeth Taylor dies, attention must be paid. She was the only true superstar we lost this year, though I might put playwright/screenwriter/director/librettist Arthur Laurents in the superstar category.

Laurents wasn't the only stage guru to leave us this year, we also lost Michael Langham, who guided several high-profile regional theaters, and Ellen Stewart, whose Cafe LaMama helped invent the Off-Off-Broadway movement. Doric Wilson wrote gay plays (and witnessed the Stonewall riots first-hand), and Lanford Wilson wrote plays with gays in them (and they also have great parts for actors of all persuasions). Pam Gems gave us bio-dramas such as Piaf and Marlena, and Russell Warner researched old musicals in order to recreate their original orchestrations.

Margaret Whiting, with husband/porn legend Jack Wrangler

And speaking of the world of music, we lost pop writer/singer Nick Ashford and pianist Roger Williams, as well as Mercer maven Margaret Whiting. I was "Mad About" Andrew Gold, and we passed the peacepipe when composer Hugh Martin died. Dolores Fuller wrote a few negligible tunes for Elvis, but is secretly revered as Ed Wood's clueless ingenue.

Jerry Leiber's final chart hit

When Jerry Leiber died, I wondered "Is that all there is?", and when one of the most famous of all film composers, John Barry, died, I remembered his lush, evocative score for Mary, Queen of Scots. Coincidentally, the director of that historical snoozefest, Charles Jarrott, also died this year. Somehow, he was able to turn the turbulent, highly dramatic lives of Henry VIII, Anne Boleyn, Elizabeth I, and Mary, Queen of Scots into dry history lessons which were a little fuzzy on the facts.

Director Charles Jarrott's historical bio-pics

But with Richard Burton, Genevieve Bujold, Glenda Jackson, and Vanessa Redgrave playing the royals, Jarrott did do something right.

Lots of others behind the camera did something right, too.

William Holden/Robert Duval/Peter Finch in "Network"

Sydney Lumet, Peter Yates, and Ken Russell all delivered distinctive product, and while Bert Schneider made Jack Nicholson a star, Michael Cacoyannis did the same for Euripides. TV's Sherwood Schwartz created not one, but TWO iconic series.

Elizabeth Montgomery casts her spell in "Bewitched"

Sol Saks had a little luck with a beautiful witch, and Madelyn Pugh spent her entire career creating stunts for Lucy. And ego-maniac Joseph Brooks implanted an entire generation's brains with "You Light Up My Life," and like an inoperable tumor, there it remains.

Anne Francis clashed with a Funny Girl; her role was slashed

Speaking of TV, we lost some famous and not-so-famous stars. Peter Falk's Columbo, James Arness's Marshall Dillon, and Anne Francis's Honey West will always be remembered, as will Harry Morgan's Col. Potter and Alice Playten's newlywed who can't cook. Livewire Alan Sues always wanted to be a dramatic actor, and Clarice Taylor always wanted to be Moms Mabley.

Marian Mercer's rare dramatic turn in "St. Elsewhere"

Marian Mercer and Sada Thompson died within days of each other, and I felt their loss particularly strongly, just as I mourned the death of one of the queens of the British mini-series, Margaret Tyzack.

Maggie Smith refused to come to Broadway without Margaret Tyzack, seen here playing Derek Jacobi's mother in "I, Claudius"

Suzannah York needs a shower, "They Shoot Horses, Don't They?"

The Brits were well represented at the morgue this year, as John Wood, John Neville, Susannah York, Pete Postlethwaite, and Anna Massey all ended up there. We lost Michael Gough, who played "Alfred" opposite several Batmen, and Jill Haworth, who was the first woman to ever sing "Cabaret."

Jill Haworth was trashed by the critics as the first musical Sally Bowles

Helen Stenborg

Everybody knows I'm a sucker for supporting actors, so Helen Stenborg, Bill Erwin, Jay Garner, Michael Tolan, and Peggy Rea all made the cut. The death of Cammie King, whose career peaked when she was 5 years old, leaves only Olivia DeHaviland surviving Gone With the Wind.

Tom Aldredge narrates "Into the Woods"

One of the longest marriages in the American Theatre ended this year, when designer Theoni Aldredge died, followed a few months later by her long-time husband, actor Tom Aldredge.

I eulogized comics Kenneth Mars and Charlie Callas together, as well as the "Disney Sweethearts," Willie Boag and Betty Taylor.

Doris Belack discovers Tootsie has balls

I keenly felt the loss of Betty Garrett, whom I used to wait on in a restaurant in L.A., and Doris Belack, who appeared in several of my favorite films and TV series.

Jeff Conaway, and his hair

We also lost former boytoys Jeff Conaway, Michael Sarrazin, and Farley Granger, as well as sex machine Jane Russell, whose statuesque figure inspired the invention of a specific kind of bra.

The soap opera world, reeling from the loss of All My Children and One Life To Live, also lost one of its premiere villains, As The World Turns's Anthony Herrera.

Anthony Herrera returned from the dead, repeatedly, as villainous James Stenbeck

Jacqueline Courtney as Alice Frame

The soaps mourned several trailblazers this year, including Jane White (the first black actress to receive a contract on a soap), Jacqueline Courtney (part of the first soap "supercouple"), and Christopher Templeton, a disabled actress who spent years as a supporting character on The Young and the Restless. Dan Frazer played the first soap character to have Alzheimer's, and Mary Fickett, an original cast member of All My Children, won the very first acting Emmy awarded for a daytime performance.

Mary Fickett spouted anti-war rhetoric and won the genre's first Emmy.

David Nelson stretches his acting muscles.

I mentioned a few people who were famous primarily because of their relationship with someone even more famous. So, Carol Channing's husband, Groucho Marx's son, and Ozzie and Harriet's first born, all made the cut. Being inhuman did not preclude a mention in these pages: a possible Cheetah died recently, as did a polar bear famous for mauling zoo visitors.

Knut teaches tourist to read the signs at the zoo.

Finally, two entrepreneurs bit the dust. The inventor of Doritos died this year, as did the gentleman who, for over 60 years, ran a little bookshop in Paris which became world-renown.

And that's all 74! I deliberately overlooked several high-profile deaths this year, such as Amy Woodhouse and Steve Jobs, mostly because they were being eulogized ad nauseum elsewhere.

Charon crosses the River Styxx

I prefer to acknowledge other, lesser-known folks who may have slipped through the cracks, but who deserve some mention. Rest in peace, everybody.

New Year's Letter: A Bit of Heaven in '11

2012-01-01T09:39:00.026-05:00

I love those newsletters that people sometimes send with their Christmas cards each year, but most folks make fun of them, at least in my experience. So, I don't ever send one (the fact that my Christmas cards always feature a picture of myself is cause for enough ridicule). But perhaps I can duck all that ridicule by, instead, writing a newsy New Year's Note.

2011 was one of my better years in recent memory, though it began with absolutely nothing positive on the horizon. On January 1st, I had no jobs lined up, and no prospects.

All that changed at the end of the month, when somebody dropped out of the Olney Theatre's production of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, after one rehearsal. I was working the front desk at our annual local Equity auditions when the casting director, the lovely and talented Brad Watkins, grabbed me by the arm and said, "Get your Equity ass to my theatre at 2:00, you're hired." I started rehearsal that very day, and had a blast playing dual roles. Wearing a skanky beard which completely covered my face, I played Joseph's father, Jacob, and in another sequence, I enjoyed a little song-and-dance as Potiphar, a rich Egyptian.

By the time we finished the run, nobody in Joe's Coat even remembered that I was a replacement. I was surrounded by some of the strongest singer/dancer/actors in the DC area; the cast was littered with Helen Hayes winners and nominees, all of them playing one of my sons or one of my wives.

I really loved the concept of this production (the show itself is not one of my favorites), but more, I was grateful to get the opportunity to work with this big group of talent.

That same audition during which I so unexpectedly snagged the gig at Olney Theatre, I was approached by the artistic director of Wayside Theatre, the lovely and talented Warner Crocker. "Do you know the play The Nerd?" he asked. I did not, but he urged me to read it, with an eye to playing a role in his upcoming production.

Several weeks later, I was spending the day as an extra on a big-budget film which was blowing through town (I don't know the name of it, but it's the one with Julianne Moore playing Sarah Palin).

During the long stretches of boredom, I bumped into an acquaintance, the lovely and talented Bill Diggle. "What are you working on?" I asked, knowing that he was always working on something. "The Nerd," he answered. "Really?" I responded, "I'm getting ready to do it!" "I know," he said dryly, "I'm directing you in it." Turns out that Warner was ducking out of directing the play in order to take care of some administrative duties.

No harm was done. The Nerd turned out to be one of my all-time favorite theatrical experiences. Warner knew what he was doing when he cast me as the wise-cracking neighbor with a secret agenda; it was the best part I've had in quite a while.

The experience was capped by the visit of my whole family, who gathered from North Carolina, Georgia, and New York, to celebrate my father's birthday, and to see the show. A year earlier, the family had gifted me with a very special Christmas present: a donor's brick on the wall of Wayside Theatre.

Between Joe's Coat and The Nerd, the little independent movie I shot in 2010 was released. And by "released," I mean it was self-distributed by the producers. I understand that they had been submitting the film to various festivals around the world, and no one had nibbled. A Modest Suggestion can now be purchased here, and streamed here, as a one-week rental on Amazon. I bought about 8 copies, and gave them as Christmas presents. Who wouldn't want a Christmas present which starred me?

My unemployment had run out by the time I snagged another unexpected gig in September. Once again, someone from Olney Theatre had dropped out of a show, though this time, it was a couple of weeks before rehearsal began. The lovely and talented Brad Watkins put an emergency note on Facebook, asking for suggestions of replacements.

The role, Carter in Agatha Christie's Witness for the Prosecution, was a very small one, so small that I wondered if Olney was looking for a non-union actor to play it. Nevertheless, I dropped Brad an email suggesting myself for the role. A week later, I was auditioning for the director, and a day or so after that, I was offered the gig.

I'll never make fun of Facebook again.

So, for the second time this year, I landed a job because somebody else quit. Who cares? I had a lovely time with the show, though the timing of the gig caused some challenges with my personal life. In the midst of rehearsals, I was notified that I was being awarded a subsidized apartment in Manhattan Plaza, an artists' complex right off Times Square in New York.

It was a flukey lark that I landed on the waiting list for such a place, back in July of 2003. It took 8 years, but my name finally rose to the top, and on Halloween, I spent my first night in Apt #29G at ManPlaza.

It still seems like I'm camping when I'm there, as there is no furniture to speak of, and a blowup mattress serves as my sleeping arrangements. But the opportunity is too good to pass up, so for the foreseeable future, I will be Bi-Urban, splitting my time between NY and DC as duty dictates.

The year ended with my annual trips to Los Angeles and to North Carolina, so I put Real Life on hold for a bit of Holiday Cheer. Only now is it sinking in, that I should be dipping my toe into the New York lifestyle, whatever that means. And I'm ending the year right where I started, with no work on the horizon, but this time, I'm not so worried. (Yet.) A lot of people would consider 2011 pretty lousy, and I won't argue, but for me, it was a pretty good year. I can only hope for more of the same.

Monkey Business

2011-12-31T20:10:00.000-05:00

Mike

1931-2011

That birth year seems a little suspect to me, and to others too, as it would make this monkey 80 years old at his death. Even in captivity, which Mike surely was, this would exceed his normal life expectancy by at least 20 years. Why are we talking about this? Because Mike the Monkey was better known by this name:

If the story holds true, Mike was one of over 15 chimps to play Tarzan's comic sidekick and snugglebunny. The character was a highlight of the film series, acting as a comic foil as well as a loyal friend (Cheetah was fabricated by the film makers, as no such character appears in any of the Edgar Rice Burroughs books from which Tarzan the ape-man sprang).The zoo where Mike has been living for about 40 years claims that he was a gregarious, fun-loving chimp, but when he lost his temper, he would fling his feces.

This temperamental behavior smacks of a star who does not get his way, and rings true to Mia Farrow. Mia, you'll recall, is the daughter of Maureen O'Sullivan, who played Jane in the series of Tarzan films starring Johnny Weissmuller. Farrow recalls that her mother referred to Cheetah as "that bastard," as he was always biting her. The chimp was always affectionate with Weissmuller, however, leading Maureen to speculate that Cheetah was gay. Who else would want to nuzzle a swimmer in a loincloth?

O'Sullivan should have counted her blessings. She was only bitten. Apparently, she could have been pummeled with shit.

Hold It Between Your Knees

2011-12-31T17:01:00.001-05:00

Bert Schneider

1933-2011

When this film producer died a few weeks ago, nobody had heard from him in decades. I was a little too young to appreciate him in his prime, which coincided with the countercultural movement of the late 60s and early 70s. Though he was born into the Hollywood establishment (his father was a muckity-muck at Columbia during the heyday of the studio system), Bert did his best to forge a new path.

He attended Cornell for a time, and was expelled. His producing career took off when he teamed with Bob Rafelson to create the phenomenon known as The Monkees. He helped concoct the off-beat sitcom, which concerned a rock group loosely based on The Beatles, and was partially responsible for the group's swift rise to superstardom. When he produced the band's film debut, Head, people thought he'd lost his. The stream-of-consciousness style of the film alienated the fans of the Monkees, and the really cool kids would not be caught dead watching anything starring The Monkees. The film tanked, but is now considered an authentic period piece.

Bert's biggest contributions were in film, where he guided Easy Rider, Five Easy Pieces, and The King of Marvin Gardens, among others, to cult status. As I said, I was a little too young to appreciate these films, but I've since seen some clips, including that hilarious diner sequence in Five Easy Pieces. It's sometimes said that this single scene made Jack Nicholson a star.

Bert Schneider's other films of note include The Last Picture Show and Days of Heaven.

His documentary, Hearts and Minds, was a devastating illustration of the hypocrisy of the Vietnam war, and was the perfect embodiment of his extreme left-wing politics. It won the Oscar. Schneider faded from the national consciousness once his style of "in-your-face" film fell out of fashion, and has rarely been heard from since the mid-70s. He died December 12th, at the age of 78.

Don Quixote of the Latin Quarter

2011-12-31T16:24:00.001-05:00

George Whitman

1913-2011

The above picture is not Whitman, of course, but it illustrates his contribution to the literary world. Born in New Jersey, he served in Paris during WWII, and settled there. He began lending books to American soldiers, and soon opened a bookstore called Le Mistral. Located across the street from Notre Dame cathedral, the shop became a home for itinerant writers, who were always offered a spare bed by Whitman. One such expat tells this story:

"Eyeing me suspiciously, George asked if I was a writer. I said I’d been a college editor, and had aspirations. He said OK... I could have a week on the mattress."

In the early 50s, Whitman befriended Sylvia Beach, who had owned a bookshop of her own, called Shakespeare and Company, before the war. She reportedly shut down the place rather than sell a copy of James Joyce's Finnegan's Wake to a Nazi soldier. That shop never reopened, but Whitman eventually purchased Beach's inventory, and changed the name of his shop to Shakespeare and Company, in her honor.

It's said that the shop, now run by Whitman's daughter, is the most famous bookshop in the world, having been mentioned in countless pieces of literature, and even having appeared in several movies (Woody Allen's recent hit Midnight in Paris, for instance).

Frankly, I had not heard of this place before Whitman's recent death. I visited Paris when I was 17, and somehow, a musty, cramped bookshop never made it onto my itinerary (though it surely would now). But in reading the descriptions of the place, it seems to be a spot where one can browse for hours, discovering treasures.

So why is this guy's death, and his bookstore, on my radar? It reminds me of the bookshop which features prominently in one of my favorite little films, 13 Charing Cross Road.

In that spirit, the Yeats quote which adorns the wall at Shakespeare and Company seems apropos:

"Be not inhospitable to strangers,

Lest they be angels in disguise."

George Whitman, proprietor of the most famous bookstore in the world, died December 14th, at the age of 98.

Before The Parade Passes By

2011-12-31T10:13:00.000-05:00

Harry Kullijian

1919-2011

When this guy died last week, on the eve of his 92nd birthday, he was a reminder of the adage, "all things come to he who waits." And boy, did he wait. He spent some time in the military, serving with distinction in both WWII and Korea, and was a prominent real estate tycoon, then local politician, in the northern California area. In 2002, he picked up this book:

In it, his high school sweetheart, Carol Channing, mentioned him fondly. He looked her up, and they began a late-life romance. They married a year later, and have since been strong advocates for arts education, forming a foundation. His death from an aneurysm comes just as a documentary about his wife, Larger Than Life, is making the film festival circuit.

The Mayor of 43rd Street

2011-12-31T08:54:00.001-05:00

Dan Frazer

1921-2011

My respect for actors who live their lives "in support" is certainly in play here, as this gent was a common face on TV from the 50s through the 90s. His most recognizable role was probably as Kojak's boss, a long-suffering police captain saddled with a renegade cop.

He was equally at home with comedy, appearing in a couple of early Woody Allen films (Take the Money and Run, Bananas) and in a slew of sitcoms.

He played opposite Sidney Poitier in the film which won the latter his Oscar (Lillies of the Field), and in his later career, was a recurring presence on all three New York based Law and Orders. That New York connection was very real for Frazer, who was born in the Hell's Kitchen neighborhood of Manhattan, and maintained close ties to the region for the rest of his life. After his spell in LA, he returned to the neighborhood, since renamed "Clinton," and was such a regular presence there that he became known as the Mayor of 43rd Street.

My New York "branch" is in that neighborhood, but that's not the only reason Dan Frazer is on my radar. For a decade beginning in 1986, he played the no-nonsense chief of police on As The World Turns, and has the distinction of playing opposite Helen Wagner, whom I have mentioned before in these pages, and who is in the Guinness Book as playing the same role longer than any other actor.

(I've also written about the now-defunct soap, and the significance it played in my life.) On the show, Frazer became the second husband of the afore-mentioned Wagner (astonishingly, this soap's matriarch lasted the full 54 years of the show's run, but had only two husbands), and was at the center of an Alzheimer's storyline which was a groundbreaker at the time.

Dan Frazer died several weeks ago, at the age of 90.

Friday Dance Party: Anita Lebost

2011-12-30T02:15:00.002-05:00

Mary Tyler Moore turned 75 on Wednesday, so it's only fitting that she star in this week's Dance Party (she appeared in an earlier segment here, in which she and Julie Andrews negotiate a quirky elevator). Everybody knows she was plucked from relatively obscure dance and commercial gigs to portray Dick Van Dyke's wife, back in 1961. Our Mare won the first of her Emmy awards for her portrayal of the simultaneously wholesome and sexy suburbanite, Laura Petrie.

She would go on to headline her own series, of course, for which she was duly awarded, and a bit later, she gave one of the most surprising film performances of the 80s, in Robert Redford's Ordinary People (she was nominated for the Oscar for that one, and should have won, too, but Sissy Spacek's Loretta Lynn took the prize).

But this week's Dance Party brings us back to the sitcom which introduced Ms. Moore to the world. The Dick Van Dyke Show often featured musical numbers, as its star was one of the premiere song-and-dance men of his generation.

This particular segment was included in an episode from October of 1963, and concerned the production of an amateur show which Rob was set to direct. His wife Laura expected to snag the leading role, until a new neighbor gave a pretty explosive audition. I suppose hilarity ensued, this is one of the many episodes of this series which I do not remember. The guest star here is Sylvia Lewis, who occasionally helped with choreography on the series, but on this occasion, stepped in front of the camera. She does her best to hold her own with Van Dyke and Moore.

Friday Dance Party: Liza's Beau

2011-12-23T02:14:00.006-05:00

The Judy Garland Christmas Special, broadcast on CBS 12/22/63, was really just the holiday episode of Garland's single-season variety show. I have owned the soundtrack to the show for years, and have now seen the video of the episode several times. It is one of the Christmas programs I get to see every year, when I visit Los Angeles (I wrote about this yesterday). Judy's variety show is one of those series which is highly respected in retrospect, but one which struggled during its initial run.

Nobody could figure out how best to present this larger-than-life superstar on the small screen (a decade later, Julie Andrews had the same problem with her variety show). In its single, 26 episode season, they went through three producers (one of whom, George Schlatter, would go on to create Laugh-In) and just as many formats.

Mel Torme was hired to provide specialty musical material, and to appear as a frequent guest; he was sacked mid-way through, as was comic Jerry Van Dyke, who received rotten reviews, and choreographer Danny Daniels (Torme filed a breach of contract suit, and wrote a scathing memoir about the experience). Garland had resisted committing to a television series throughout the 50s, but the early 60s found her in financial trouble with the IRS, so she signed a very lucrative deal.

Ever the trooper, she tried to accommodate all the changes her producers were tossing at her, but the show's timeslot, opposite ratings giant Bonanza, probably doomed the program. The show is now available on DVD, and features memorable guest spots from the biggest names in entertainment at the time, and included some up-and-comers like Barbra Streisand, who earned an Emmy nomination for her appearance.

Several episodes of the series threw out any semblance of variety show format, and simply featured Garland giving a one-hour concert.

Anyway, back to this week's Dance Party. Near the top of her Christmas "special," Judy (in a swell Edith Head gown) invites the audience to join her as she spends Christmas with her family and a few friends.

Her two youngest kids, Lorna and Joey Luft, are given the spotlight several times during the show, with Lorna coming off much better than her brother. She belts a pretty nice rendition of "Santa Clause is Coming to Town," even recovering from an ill-timed swallow. Joey, though, proves that he inherited his father's genes, rather than his mother's. His rendition of "Where Is Love" (one of several tunes featured on the show from Oliver!, which was packing them in on Broadway at the time), is so painful, it was not included in the soundtrack recording.

When Judy introduces her younger children, she purrs, "Liza's out skating with her beau, she'll be in later." Whether or not Tracy Everett, the co-star of the clip below, was actually Minnelli's boyfriend, I really don't care. He was definitely a part of Garland's weekly chorus of dancers, and in this clip, he displays his choreographic skills as well. And doesn't he remind you of this guy from Petticoat Junction?

Anyway, in honor of Christmas, enjoy this clip of a 17-year old Liza Minnelli, back when she fancied herself a dancer, and her "beau," Tracy Everett. Probably to accommodate Minnelli's preference for Fosse-ish jazz moves, Tracy did not include any tap, which was a particular strength of his. He teaches it now in Hoboken.

Hazel, Anne Frank, and Me

2011-12-22T08:05:00.003-05:00

I've made a dozen or so trips back to LA since moving from the city in 1993, and the past 5 years, that annual trip has happened the first two weeks of December. The trip has gained special significance for me, and has now become the centerpiece of my Holiday Season.
I'm put up by my old friends Scott and Drew, who live in a swanky house in Woodland Hills, in the west end of the San Fernando Valley.

I usually arrive the weekend after Thanksgiving, and stay 10 or 11 days.

That's usually two or three days after the time we start to want to kill each other, but somehow, it all works out. The second weekend I am there, the boys host a little Tree Trimming party, which includes only myself, and my two oldest buddies Claudia and Judy (I wrote about all four of these cherished friends a long while ago here).

While in LA, Judy, who runs the theatre department at Notre Dame High School, hires me to teach movement workshops for her young actors. This gives me something to do during the day, and affords me lots of time to spend with Jude, but it has become something more to me. Interacting with young actors reignites my enthusiasm for my craft, an excitement of which I find I often lose track, in my professional life.

This year's trip began with bad luck. I had chosen a flight which left DC at 10:30 AM, and arrived in Burbank at 3:30 PM, with a very quick stop in Phoenix.

After a flight cancellation (while I was in midair!) and a complete failure of customer service on the part of USAir, I arrived in Burbank at 9:30 PM. By the time I collected my bag and rental car and drove across the Valley to Woodland Hills, I was pretty fried. But Scott and Drew took care of me, handing me a beer or three and serving me a delicious homemade stew.

The Boys, as Claudia, Judy, and I call them, spend a lot of time decorating their den for the holidays, and the room always puts me in the holiday spirit.

It is the hub of the house during the hols, where all TV Watching / Christmas Carol Listening / and Tree Trimming takes place. These guys are very creative with their decorating; this year's new addition was an animated scene in which an elf works in a sweatshop overseen by Kathy Lee Gifford.

(Take a minute to check out the detail of this scene, it's really quite remarkable. And yes, they're those kinds of decorations. You will not find a manger or a North Star or a Wise Man anywhere around, as the boys are secular celebrants of the season).

The next morning (Saturday), a routine set in. I awoke early, as is my unfortunate habit, and slipped downstairs to boil an egg (which, during this trip, became a euphemism for something else, you don't need to ask...), slurped some yogurt, and then caught up on email on my laptop. I was always greeted by this fellow:

You'll note that the chalkboard welcoming people to the Boys' home is addressed to somebody else. Not me. It remained that way over a week.

After an hour or two, the upstairs would begin to stir with the sound of leaping critters. Scott and Drew have two dogs, both Weimaraners, and both puppies. They decided a while ago that they should have two of this breed, known for their high strung nature, their possessiveness, and, from what I gathered, their neuroses. Why oh why these otherwise intelligent gents thought that owning two examples of this overwrought breed was wise, rather than perhaps one Weimaraner and one Beagle or Basset or Mutt, cannot be answered. Nevertheless, I was in the house less than an hour before recognizing that this establishment was being ruled by canines. Or more correctly, being ruled by the presence of canines.

The routine of the household is dictated by the needs of these dogs, which was, I think, the opposite of what Scott and Drew intended when they decided to adopt two pets. The theory was that the dogs would keep each other company, allowing their masters the opportunity to occasionally go out together, for dinner or a movie or even just to shop. The exact opposite happened. Now, the only way the Boys can leave the house without the dogs is to crate them, separately, and drive away.

When I was around, and the Boys needed to run an errand, I was banished to my upstairs bedroom to remain, silent, until their return, so as to fool the dogs into thinking no one was in the house. Thus I became Anne Frank, hiding in the attic.

It was a small price to pay, and besides, I still believe, in spite of everything, that people are really good at heart.

In addition to lunch after class with Jude, she and I indulged in our mutual passion, the theatre. We caught Travels With My Aunt at the Colony Theatre in Burbank, and Vigil at the Mark Taper. The latter was a real treat for me, as I have performed the play (a two-hander) twice in years past.

"Vigil," with Diana Sowle, Everyman Theatre, 2003

This production starred Olympia Dukakis, in a role with only a handful of lines, but her participation in the show caused the playwright, who also directed here, to beef up the physical bits for the role. She was a hoot.

Most nights, I returned to my hosts' for a luscious dinner, and usually, the viewing of one of their favorite Christmas programs. They spend the holiday season enjoying (repeated) viewings of many such shows from the past (I don't think there is a single show in their collection less than 20 years old). I willingly indulge that quirk, as I have it myself, though not necessarily for holiday programming. (By the way, return to these pages tomorrow for a Dance Party clip from one of these chestnuts.)

The Boys do a bang-up job keeping my dinner plate filled while I'm in residence, so it's become a bit of a tradition that I help with the clean-up afterward. And by help, I mean I do it all. Usually the next day, in the afternoon, after I return from teaching. When the plates are good and crusty, and the pots and pans are thick with dried, gloppy sauces. When Scott cooks, he cooks; they made a pact with each other, early in their relationship, that Scott cooks, and Drew cleans.

These days, I've seen Drew prepare a little specialty of his own (a dessert or an appetizer or something), but Scott does not reciprocate in kind. Since he does not do any of the clean up, he does not hesitate to reach for a clean pot, pan, utensil, tool, or kitchen appliance when he's preparing a meal. The room, after a big dinner, usually looks like Beirut.

I'm making some fun here, but I don't mind the K-P duty, it's not expected of me, I just volunteer. The Boys hear me clanging around from upstairs, and remark to each other that Hazel is back at work.

I guess The Big Event of my trip is the trimming of the tree. This year was a bit different, in that Judy had a last minute childcare issue and could not join us. But the dogs surely did, at least from howling distance. Drew and Claudia did the lion's share of the work, turning the huge tree into a huge success.

Scott is a fan of "flocking" a tree, which is simply spraying some kind of gunk, probably toxic, all over the green branches and turning them white. Doesn't sound very pretty, and growing up, I hated such trees, but I have to admit, the finished product is a stunner.

I've been home well over a week now, and there hasn't been a whole lot of Christmas fun to be had. Logistics prevented my putting up my own tree this year, and I won't be traveling to the family Christmas until the actual day.

Until then, I've written about 100 cards to be sent out, just in the nick of time. But otherwise, it's been business as usual. It makes me doubly glad, and thankful, that I started the season off with a lot of holiday cheer.

Friday Dance Party: Squeal Like A Pig

2011-12-16T01:06:00.002-05:00

Deliverance was based on a novel of the same name, and was one of the big hits of 1972. It established Burt Reynolds as a bona fide film star, and proved that he could give a persuasive performance when he wanted to (sadly, he did not repeat the effort very often in his subsequent career).

The movie featured the film debut of Ned Beatty (in his underwear, more on that in a mo'), and may have cured an entire generation from any desire to step into a canoe.

In addition to its signature rape scene, Deliverance featured a musical sequence which spawned an instantly recognizable riff. Anyone around in the 70s could listen to the first 9 notes of this number, and immediately recognize the film's "Dueling Banjos."

The tune was released as a single by the musicians who performed the number on the movie's soundtrack, and they were later sued by the song's real composer, from whom they had blatantly stolen. All turned out well, everybody got their money, and "Dueling Banjos" has become an instrumental classic.

Deliverance's sodomy scene is a bit of a classic, too. Kudos to film neophyte Ned Beatty for leaping right into the scene, which remains terrifying and grotesque.

The success, if you can call it that, of the sequence owes no small gratitude to this guy:

Bill McKinney

1931-2011

When Bill died in September, he was called the "Mountain Man from Deliverance," a moniker he embraced. He had a healthy career as a villain, and was closely identified with Clint Eastwood, appearing in seven of his films. But it was his performance as the sadistic sodomite in Deliverance for which he is best known. Film lore has it that McKinney and Beatty improvised the famous "squeal piggy" line during filming (the line does not appear in the original novel). Studio bosses were deeply concerned about the rape sequence, and wanted director John Boorman to shoot two versions, so a sanitized version could appear on television.

This week's Dance Party, you'll be relieved to know, is not that sequence. Instead, it is the scene in which "Dueling Banjos" is performed. Ronny Cox (who, with Jon Voight, filled out the leading cast) improvises a country riff with a "mountain boy," played by a high school student named Billy Redden.

Make-up enhanced the boy's unusual features, with the inference being that the lad was a victim of inbreeding among the mountain folk. That inference, lifted directly from the original novel by James Dickey, perpetuated the fiction that hillbillies commonly mated with their siblings, a misconception which is still believed today. This scene straddles the line between entertaining and unsettling, and sets the tone for the rest of the unpleasant events to follow.

Pay some attention to the boy as he plays. Not only is he not playing the instrument, he's not even holding it; the camera angles are hiding the fact that there is a real musician concealed behind the kid, making the music.

Mortuary Marathon

2011-12-11T10:19:00.008-05:00

Some of these corpses have been around long enough to petrify, but they still deserve a mention in these pages. There are so many, however, and most died months and months ago, I will endeavor to keep my natural loquaciousness to a minimum. Yeah, that'll happen. But I'll try.

I have to begin with this gentleman, who died several months ago, but his death still resonates. His life, after all, was one of great importance, as he was not just an inventor, but an innovator. His contribution to society must be considered life-changing. The results of his innovative vision completely transformed the way we live. You think I'm talking about Steve Jobs and his invention of the personal computer? Feh. The invention which completely transformed modern life is this:

Arch West was already a successful salesman and ad exec for Frito-Lay(he handled Jello for a time) when he took a family vacation to southern California in 1964. He sampled a fried tortilla chip at a roadside stand and smelled money. He knew the greasy, salty, high-caloric, high-fat chip would be the perfect compliment to the lighter Lays Potato Chip and the curly Frito already on the market. By presenting the Dorito in various flavors, the chip industry exploded, as did Americans' cholesterol count.

924 million bags of the stuff were sold last year, grossing close to 5 billion dollars worldwide. West can be credited with transforming the way we snack, and even as we call the stuff "junk food," his marketing expertise insured that we can never get enough. He died in September from vascular problems, at the age of 97.

Doric Wilson

1939-2011

He was a playwright, a critic, and a designer in the early Off-Off-Broadway scene, and is credited with being one of the artists who put Caffe Cino on the map.

His were most assuredly gay plays, presented at a time when such items were considered subversive or even pornographic. He was in the crowd on the street the night the altercation between police and bar patrons at the Stonewall Inn turned into a full-scale riot, thus launching the modern Gay Rights Movement; he wrote Street Theatre in response.

When Anita Bryant began making such a pest of herself, he wrote The West Side Gang, depicting a humorous encounter when the anti-gay bigot wanders into a gay bar.

This playwright did not achieve the celebrity of his contemporaries like Lanford Wilson (no relation) and Edward Albee; despite his fame in the gay theatrical community, he often tended bar to make ends meet. Lanford Wilson and Doric Wilson were founding members of the Circle Repertory Theatre, and were earlier comrades in the alternative scene. Lanford became the bigger literary star, but once wrote that, had the mainstream critics discovered the hole-in-the-wall Caffe Cino three years earlier, it would have been Doric Wilson whom everyone was talking about. Edward Albee also paid tribute to Doric: "His theater is tough, funny and right on target,” Albee said. “No pussyfooting for Doric. He doesn’t write gay theater; he writes queer theater.”

Doric Wilson died from natural causes last May, at the age of 72.

This director was better known in international circles than in Hollywood:

Michael Cacoyannis

1922-2011

He was born on Cyprus, and had a particular affinity for translating Greek tragedy to film.

He earned Oscar nominations for Best Foreign Language film for Electra and Iphigenia, and he's credited with bringing international attention to Greek beauty Irene Papas. He cast her as Helen of Troy in The Trojan Women, opposite Katherine Hepburn, Vanessa Redgrave, and Genevieve Bujold.

His biggest commercial success was not from Euripides; in 1963, he filmed Zorba the Greek, which became an international phenomenon. Russian actress Lila Kedrova, who until then had appeared in only French language films, won the Oscar for her performance. Twenty years later, the movie was adapted as a Broadway musical; Kedrova repeated her role onstage, and won a Tony as well. It's said that the dance performed by Anthony Quinn on the beach at the film's end provided the stereotype for "Greek dancing" as we recognise it today.

Michael Cacoyannis died in July at the age of 89.

Everybody knows I love actors, so let's get to them.

John Neville

1925-2011

During a six year period in the 1950s, he appeared in every one of Shakespeare's plays, or at least that was his claim (sounds a little suspect to me, even in the British repertory system). But he was certainly known as a classical actor, rising to fame as Romeo (opposite Claire Bloom) and as Iago (opposite Richard Burton. During the run, the two alternated roles.). When he played Hamlet, his Ophelia was an unknown starlet named Judi Dench.

But we don't know Shakespearean actors in this country, unless they are also movie stars. Neville was one, playing the title character in the 1988 Terry Gilliam film, The Adventures of Baron Munchausen. The movie went grossly over budget and was a victim of a power struggle going on at Columbia Studios at the time, so, despite glowing reviews and strong audience response in the limited release it received, it was considered a notorious flop.

Naturally, it's now gained cult status. I never saw Baron Munchausen, nor did I see the other project which brought John Neville acclaim in this country. He was a recurring character in TV's X-Files, playing a shadowy operative known as the Well-Manicured Man. He repeated the role in the film sequel.

But I know Neville from his starring role in The First Churchills, one of those costume mini-series from the BBC.

The show has the distinction of being the very first presented on Masterpiece Theatre in its debut 40 years ago (I wrote a bit about that when his costar on the series, Margaret Tyzack, died last summer). Neville's death last month, after a struggle with Alzheimer's, was announced by the Stratford Shakespeare Festival in Canada, where he served as artistic director for a while in the 80s. He was 86.

When John Neville took the reigns at the Stratford Festival, the theatre was struggling; he put them back on solid footing with shrewd scheduling, including the then unusual pairing of Hamlet with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead. Which leads me to this guy:

John Wood

1930-2011

This British actor first appeared on my radar due to his performance in Wargames, one of my guilty favorite movies. He had gaunt, birdlike features and an unusual speech pattern which made him perfect for the role of the off-beat scientist based on Stephen Hawking (if you know the film, you'll be surprised to learn that Wood won the role over John Lennon, of all people).

Despite the presence in the cast of Ally Sheedy, whose work I despise, Wargames is a fun, taunt little thriller boasting reliable performances by Matthew Broderick and Dabney Coleman. And of course, John Wood, playing Professor Falken, a man so squirrelly he named his computer Joshua. It was many years after the movie was released that I discovered Wood's full career, which included lots of stage work. In particular, he was a premier interpreter of Tom Stoppard's plays, winning a Tony for his Travesties, and creating the role of Houseman in Invention of Love.

He was in the original Broadway production of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, playing Guildenstern (or was it Rosencrantz?). In a nice bit of symmetry, he returned to Broadway in a revival years later, playing the Leading Player.

He created the role of Sydney Bruhl in the long-running smash Deathtrap, and other Broadway appearances included Salieri in Amadeus, as well as Tartuffe and Sherlock Holmes. He died in his sleep in August.

John Wood's Broadway performance as Sherlock Holmes brought him a Tony nomination. That production also featured this guy, in a dramatic departure from his usual shtick:

Alan Sues

1926-2011

He always considered himself a dramatic actor, a belief which is hard to reconcile with the persona he presented on television.

In his early career, he spent some time in the original production of Tea and Sympathy, but it was his comedic sense with which he made his biggest mark. He was spotted by producer George Schlatter in an Off-Broadway revue called The Mad Show, which also, coincidentally, starred Jo Anne Worley. Sues was invited to join the ensemble cast of the biggest hit of the late 60s, Laugh-In.

He remained with the show until its final season, specializing in over-the-top, flamboyant caricatures. Sues had married and divorced in the late 50s, and was commonly assumed gay, though he never publicly proclaimed his sexuality.

Nobody had any doubt, however, as he was judged by his most famous Laugh-In roles, the perpetually hung-over children's TV host, Uncle Al (the Kiddies' Pal), and the ultra-fey sports commentator, Big Al ("I looooooove that bell!"). Alan Sues died last week from an apparent heart attack at the age of 85.

Anna Massey

1937-2011

She wasn't well-known in this country, despite coming from a show biz family: her father was film star Raymond Massey, her brother is actor Daniel Massey, and her godfather was director John Ford. She spent her entire career in Britain, with a single Broadway appearance in 1956, in The Reluctant Debutante, earning a Tony nomination.

On the big screen she worked with Otto Preminger in Bunny Lake is Missing and with Hitchcock in Frenzy. Fairly recently, she appeared as Miss Prism in the Rupert Everett / Colin Firth / Judi Dench movie version of The Importance of Being Earnest. If she is recognized at all around here, it is due to her frequent appearances in British mystery series, broadcast in the US as part of the Masterpiece Mystery anthology. She died from cancer on my birthday, July 2.

Harry Morgan

1915-2011

Everybody knows this guy died this week, after a long career on the screen. His performance as Col. Potter in M*A*S*H, for which he won an Emmy in 1980, capped a career of over 100 films and included almost a dozen starring roles in TV series. I've been hunting all over for a clip of my favorite Col. Potter Moment, but have been unable to find it. In the episode in question ("Old Soldiers," from season 8), Potter returns from Tokyo with an old bottle of brandy, pilfered during his days as a soldier in WWI. He is the last survivor of his group of doughboys, and keeping a pledge made to them all, he toasts his old buddies. It's a heartbreaking moment and a terrific example of Harry Morgan's ability to mix laughs with tears.

I was never a fan of Dragnet, another of Morgan's signature series, but I first became aware of Harry when he starred in a little sitcom called Pete and Gladys.

The show ran only two seasons in the early 60s, so it's surprising to me that CBS reran the show, after its cancellation, during daytime hours. But that is when I remember watching the show, which was itself a spinoff of a 50s comedy called December Bride. Pete and Gladys was a blatant attempt to recreate the comic appeal of the I Love Lucy franchise, which had just concluded its historic run. Morgan played the harried, sardonic husband of a wacky redhead who continually caused mischief. Cara Williams costarred, earning an Emmy nomination for her work, and the show employed the director, writers, and even occasional guest stars of the earlier Lucille Ball hit. Nobody was in the mood to watch somebody else be Lucy, so the show was not a success, and the year it was cancelled, Ball returned to television in The Lucy Show (it's said that she admonished her writers that they had given all their best material to "that other redhead").

But I remember bits and pieces of Pete and Gladys, which made enough of an impression on my young mind that I named my pair of goldfish after the two characters (Gladys kept dying, always to be replaced by a new fish, also named Gladys. Pete lived to a ripe old age, as did his creator Harry Morgan, who died a few days ago at the age of 96).

Clarice Taylor

1917-2011

Even as a noted member of Harlem's American Negro Theatre, and as a founding member of the Negro Ensemble Theatre, she worked as a postal worker to make ends meet. In the 60s, she got a big break by snagging a recurring role on Sesame Street, which lead to film roles in Play Misty For Me and the early Liza Minnelli film, Tell Me That You Love Me, Junie Moon.

She spent some time in The Wiz, playing the good witch (the role which went to Lena Horne in the movie version), and created a popular one-woman show devoted to comedienne Moms Mabley (she won the Obie for her performance). But she's best recognized as Bill Cosby's mother on the original Cosby Show. Along with Earl Hyman, who played the elder Huxtable, she earned an Emmy nomination in 1986. She died last May at the age of 93.

Tired of the actors? We also have lost some musicians of note. Pun intended.

Roger Williams

1924-2011

I grew up in a home where my mother and both of my sisters played the piano, so it's no wonder this guy was on my radar from a very early age. We had many of his albums (he released 116!), many of which featured only a solo piano. Williams is in the record books, as a matter of fact, for his recording of "Autumn Leaves," which, in 1955, became the only piano instrumental recording to ever top Billboard's Top 100, a distinction it still holds today.

Roger had other hits as well, with his lush piano renditions of the themes from Born Free and Somewhere in Time. Other big sellers included Man of LaMancha's "The Impossible Dream" and West Side Story's "Maria." Believe it or not, Williams became known, in his 70s, for his 12-Hour Piano Marathons, which he repeated several times for charity fundraising. He died in October at the age of 87 from pancreatic cancer.

Before ending this marathon of obits, I'll point out that I left out several folks on purpose. I respected Cliff Robertson, who died in September, but his work as an actor was not really on my radar.

Steve Jobs, of course, died a few months ago, but he had as many eulogies as Michael Jackson. And as much as I have sympathy for those struggling with addictive diseases, I cannot bring myself to wax poetical over the death of Amy Winehouse last summer. But I can bring this entry to a close with the deaths of these two unknowns:

Wally Boag and Betty Taylor died last June, one day apart. It's said this phenomenon is not all that uncommon, that someone's spouse, partner, or twin will die within days of the other.

These two held a special place in a lot of folks' hearts, including that of Steve Martin, who claimed that Boag's comedic performance as Pecos Bill at Disneyland was a particular inspiration. Wally had a bit of a film career early on, before landing at Disneyland in 1955. He remained with the live show for a whopping 40,000 performances. Most of those were alongside Taylor, who joined the show a year later as his love interest, Slue Foot Sue. They gave three shows a day, five days a week, and, for 30 years, were the acknowledged stars of the Disneyland Golden Horseshoe Revue. A bit of their act was captured for an episode of Walt Disney's Wide World of Color, which you can see below. They were not partnered in private life, but when they died one day apart last June, one at age 90 in California and one at age 91 in Washington, the Disney folks proclaimed them the original Disney Sweethearts.

Friday Dance Party: 1,2,3,4, Tell The People What She Wore

2011-12-09T11:58:00.007-05:00

Once again, this week's Dance Party is inspired by the recently deceased.

Lee Pockriss

1924-2011

In 1960, he provided the world with one of those novelty songs which gets stuck in your brain for days. In fact, for decades. The tune hit #1 on the charts all over the world, propelling high school student Brian Hyland to teen idol fame, for introducing "Itsie Bitsie Teenie Weenie Yellow Polka-Dot Bikini". Pockriss estimated the repeated use of the song over the years yielded royalties of at least a million dollars. He penned other hits of the early bubblegum era, including "Johnny Angel" for Shelley Fabares. He can be forgiven for providing Anita Bryant with "My Little Corner of the World," about a decade before she decided her corner of the world should be gay-free.

Pockriss had less luck with his stage compositions, which included the score for Tovarich in 1963 (Vivien Leigh won a Tony for her work, but Lee was not nominated). Lee also provided the score to Earnest in Love, the musical adaptation of The Importance of Being Earnest. How anybody thought the superbly constructed Oscar Wilde classic could be improved upon, is anybody's guess.

In 1957, Lee Pockriss penned perhaps his most enduring standard, the recording of which landed Perry Como at the top of the charts. It became one of the crooner's signature songs, and this week's Dance Party proves the tune has a nice lilt, appropriate for the holiday season.

Como, it must be said, is one of those vocalists who was never very interesting to watch, though he headlined a successful variety show throughout the 50s and well into the 60s. His Christmas Specials were perennial favorites for decades, perhaps because his style was understated to the point of somnambulism. The clip below, plucked from his variety show, shows Como's lack of pizazz, as he's upstaged by his announcer, his announcer's sheet music, his backup singers, his backup singers' top hats, and even the gold record upon which he is tapping.

Friday Dance Party: Hold The Beans

2011-12-02T02:26:00.045-05:00

The death of a controversial film director this week inspires today's Dance Party.

Ken Russell

1927-2011

His over-the-top violent and sexual imagery kept him from ever becoming a superstar director, but he had some international success with several films.

In 1969, his Women in Love capitalized on the new sexual freedom, and by including a now-infamous nude wrestling scene between Alan Bates and Oliver Reed, was the first main stream film to allow full-frontal male nudity.

The movie catapulted a young Glenda Jackson to fame, earning her the first of her two Oscars. Two years later, he afforded Vanessa Redgrave, another young starlet, a controversial role in The Devils, which concerned overt sexual and sado-masochistic behavior among the Catholic clergy.

Russell's most commercial success came in 1975, when he filmed The Who's Tommy, which began as a two-album recording and which holds the distinction of being the first piece ever to be called a "rock opera". He stuffed the movie with superstars such as Jack Nicholson,Tina Turner, Eric Clapton, and Elton John, and placed The Who's lead singer Roger Daltry in the title role.

I only saw this film once, rock opera is not my favorite genre, but nobody who saw the movie will ever forget the sight of Ann-Margaret rolling around in baked beans and diuretic-looking chocolate sauce. I forget the deeper meaning of the sequence, but A-M received an Oscar nomination for her efforts (she lost to Louise Fletcher's Nurse Ratched in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest).

In the years between his two big successes with Women in Love and Tommy, Russell delivered a musical film based on very unlikely (for him) source material. The Boy Friend was a spoof of the kind of musicals which populated the Broadway stage in the 1920s.

Its first production brought the unknown Julie Andrews to the United States, and a revival years later (starring Laugh-In's Judy Carne) gave Sandy Duncan a big break. How this slight piece of fluff attracted Ken Russell is anybody's guess, but nobody else was breaking down the doors to film the show, so whatever. His adaptation was far from faithful; his Boy Friend centered around a theatre company's attempts to put on a production of The Boy Friend. The leading lady (Glenda Jackson in an uncredited cameo) breaks her leg or something, and the mousy understudy must go on, while a Hollywood talent scout watches.

The film was not much of a success when released in 1971 (everybody blamed the hatchet job which had been done on Ken's original, full-length piece), but it gave 60s supermodel Twiggy her first chance to prove she was more than just a flat chest. She won the Golden Globe, and went on to a Tony-winning career in stage musicals and cabaret.

The Boy Friend and Tommy might have been joined on Ken Russell's resume by Evita, which he hoped to film back in the 80s. He was the only one involved who thought Liza Minnelli should play Eva Peron, and the project fell apart. As for this week's Dance Party, you may have been wishing for something from Tommy, perhaps Elton John's "Pinball Wizard" or Tina Turner's Acid Queen, or even that yucky scene with the baked beans, but no dice.

This week's Dance Party features Twiggy and her leading man from The Boy Friend, Christopher Gable. It's interesting to note that Tommy Tune also appears in this film; he would later costar with Twiggy in My One and Only, and the two would win His-And-Hers Tony Awards.

Friday Dance Party: Walken On Wood

2011-11-25T09:25:00.001-05:00

The big news this week wasn't the complete failure of the Super Committee, nor the controversy over retailers creeping into Thanksgiving by opening stores on the holiday. Nope, the big news was, of course, the reopening of the Natalie Wood case.

As everybody knows, Wood tumbled (or was pushed) from a boat into the water off Catalina in 1981, and was later found dead. The incident was deemed an accident, though several times over the years, the captain of the boat raised questions. The folks onboard had been drinking, and arguing, and the fact that Wood's husband Robert Wagner did not alert authorities to his wife's absence for a while, has always led to suspicion (plus the fact that RJ's first call wasn't to the authorities, but to his lawyer). When the LAPD reopened the case this week, based on the captain's claims, I cracked that the truth would finally come out: it wasn't Natalie Wood who fell into the water that night, it was Marni Nixon.

(Hey, it got some laughs with my Facebook crowd).

The star of this week's Dance Party was in the middle of shooting a film with Natalie (Brainstorm, released in 1983, was almost derailed by her death) and was also onboard that night; he retained a lawyer this week to protect his interests.

Nobody is surprised, these days, when Christopher Walken breaks out into song and dance, but for many years, he was known strictly as an intense, often creepy, character actor. His performance as a steelworker involved in the Vietnam war in The Deer Hunter brought him to national attention, and won him the Oscar. For years since then, his roles were usually moody, brooding, and sinister.

But he started his career as a musical theatre performer, and there are now lots of clips out there of his dancing abilities. He has often been seen hoofing on Saturday Night Live, as well as in several music videos of note, and in 2007, he brought a low-keyed charm opposite the over-the-top drag performance of John Travolta in Hairspray.

Here's a clip from that oddball Steve Martin musical, Pennies From Heaven (this film has appeared on the Dance Party before, when character actor Jay Garner died). Even dancing (and lip syncing), Walken comes off as pretty sinister here (appropriately, he's playing a pimp).

BTW, Natalie Wood appeared in this Dance Party a while back, when her Gypsy costar Karl Malden died. Let's hope Christopher Walken was not misbehavin' with Natalie Wood on that boat.

Friday Dance Party: Third Anniversary

2011-11-18T19:38:00.006-05:00

I can't believe this silly little segment has been going on so long, but the calendar does not lie. The Friday Dance Party passed its third anniversary this week. Every week for the past three years, a new and exciting, or old and enthralling, or odd and disgusting, musical clip has graced these pages. Before taking a look back at the 54 clips which comprised this year's Party (yes, there were 54 clips in 52 weeks, math never was my strong suit), credit must be given to my old Wayside Theatre buddy, Larry Dahlke, who invented the segment on his own blog. Three years ago. He abandoned it very soon afterward, but the Dance Party doggedly continues here!

You might imagine that most of the clips presented originally came from the Broadway stage, but relatively speaking, only a few did. Which brings me to the reason there were 54 clips in only 52 weeks. Just last week, we had a double-header, from The Apple Tree and She Loves Me, and the weekend Hurricane Irene roared up the east coast, we had a Very Special Episode of the Friday Dance Party, on Saturday, honoring the Broadway show which carries her name. Otherwise, though, the pickings from the legitimate stage were pretty slim. When I was myself appearing as Potiphar in Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat last winter, we caught the song from the TV version of same.

Around Christmas time last year, we watched a grainy but energetic presentation of one of the most meaningless numbers ever to stop a show, from Promises, Promises. And when an old lesbian died, we took a look at how one of the standards from The Sound of Music had been holding up. The year could not be complete without a visit from Neil Patrick Harris, his generation's true song-and-dance man, and the year also included a harrowing anthem from Patti LuPone, the night she won the Tony for Gypsy. And we had one of the most unusual clips ever presented on the Tony Awards, when that musical powerhouse Katherine Hepburn gave us a taste of her performance as Coco (Chanel).

Movie musicals, though, made a strong showing this year, with Mitzi Gaynor, Bette Midler, and Lucille Ball presenting some songs, and on my birthday, my special friend Pat Carroll crooned one of Disney's most dastardly tunes. We had some teams, too, including Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire, Eleanor Powell and Fred Astaire (again), Judy Garland and Gene Kelly, and Harold and Maude. The clip from Grease was inspired by the death of Jeff Conaway, and ditto the Victor/Victoria duet, by the death of Blake Edwards.

Regular visitors to these pages will not be surprised to learn that many, many Dance Parties were inspired by dead people. My little obituary/tributes were included when TVs Designing Women did some lip syncing, and when composer Andrew Gold died, we heard from The Golden Girls and Mad About You. Though the Village People did not die (at least, not all of them), the producer of their misguided appearance in the cult flop Can't Stop the Music did. Peggy Lee wondered "Is That All There Is?" when Jerry Leiber died, and composer John Barry delivered a haunting ballad from Mary, Queen of Scots before he died, a number he co-wrote with Mary herself, from a distance of about four centuries.

Ed Wood's favorite star Dolores Fuller wasn't much of a song writer, or much of an actress either, but Elvis had a clambake when she died. When Jill Haworth, the first musical Sally Bowles, went the way of her girlfriend Elsie, we had one of my favorite tunes from Cabaret, and when character actor Jay Garner left us, his number with Steve Martin gave us a lift. A couple of oldsters finally left the stage, including Betty Garrett and Jane Russell (and it's no wonder Jane lasted so long, assuming she visited this gym often). When David Nelson died, his brother Rick went to a garden party, and when the actress who, as a tike, played Bonnie Blue Butler, died, her fictional parents scandalized Atlanta by dancing in Gone With the Wind.

My favorite clip of the year, from a gal I had never heard of, was inspired when its songwriter, Hugh Martin, passed the peace pipe for the last time. And when Groucho's son Arthur finally said the magic word, it was "Lydia" (the Tattooed Lady).

Sadly, a couple of my clips I posted have since been removed by their rightful owners, but you can still go here to read my obit for Lucy's longtime writer, and here to read my thoughts about William Holden. He didn't die this year, of course, but as it was Labor Day, I was thinking about his performance in Picnic, which takes place on the holiday.

Other holidays were celebrated on the Dance Party, too. We spent Veteran's Day with Martha Raye, New Year's Eve with Eartha Kitt, and Christmas with The Monkees. When I missed St. Patrick's Day, "Danny Boy" tried to apologize.

Let's see, who else? The Monkees joined forces with Bobby Sherman for one of the first music videos, years before they were classified as such, and the guys who wrote Avenue Q teamed up with the guys who wrote Scrubs, and came up with a crackerjack opening number for a musical episode of the latter. Dorothy Loudon put two disparate Sondheim songs together to bring down the house at Carnegie Hall, and Craig Ferguson put his own particular spin to one of my favorite novelty numbers of all time (I've even sung it at auditions).

Meanwhile, two French dancers delivered the most athletic Dance Party of the year.

More than a few of this year's clips reflected something personal going on in my life at the time. When I was feeling under-rehearsed while prepping The Nerd last summer, I turned to the master of Under-Rehearsal, Dean Martin. The Nerd also prompted a return visit from Cass Elliot, while the gesticular choreography used in my production of Joe's Coat inspired these hand jives. My backstage demeanor prompted a visit backstage to another theatre, while my participation in the legal strategy of Witness for the Prosecution brought Betty Hutton to mind. The anniversary of the murder of Matthew Shepherd inspired a same-sex tango, and when my L.A. buddies gave up their motor home (not that those two things are of equal importance, of course), they were serenaded by these two guys, in perhaps the most creative of the Dance Parties (the entire thing was shot on a cell phone, in a single take).

Finally, my recent New York investigations were commented upon by Judy Garland, who happens to like New York, and by the cast of Hold That Co-Ed, who enjoys limping.

And that, I believe, includes everybody who contributed to the Dance Party this year. If you care to, you can see all the Dance Parties, from the beginning, in reverse chronological order, here.

If you are deranged enough to do so, you will see only one clip repeated, from one of my guilty holiday pleasures. Go ahead and make some fun of Mr. Magoo's Christmas Carol.

To kick off the fourth year (jeez) of the Dance Party, a bit of a tradition. The very first Dance Party, as well as the First and the Second Anniversary clips, were all young amateurs, discovering the joys of dance. I won't be breaking with tradition today, here is this week's Dance Party:

Assembling the New York Branch

2011-11-16T03:19:00.008-05:00

I have enough ego to believe that I have many talents. But working with my hands, putting things together, isn't one of them. Unless it's a dirty martini. More on that in a mo'.

The past few weeks have been very active, as I have made several roundtrips to Manhattan and back, opening the New York Branch of my life. As I wrote previously, I was recently awarded an apartment in Manhattan Plaza, a two-building complex of apartments devoted to subsidized housing for artists. My unit is on the 29th floor, and sports a pretty swell view, especially at night.

During the day, though, the place looks a lot like this:

Furnishing the place is not high on my list of priorities. As I will be keeping my place in DC, and splitting my time between the cities, I feel a little bit like I'm camping in New York. The first piece of furniture I bought for the place was delivered before I ever took possession of the apartment. Thankfully, ManPlaza has what they call a "package room, " which is not a room at all, but a small storefront between the two towers resembling a UPS store. There, everything which cannot fit into the teeny tiny mailboxes is delivered, to be picked up by the tenant at their convenience. My tall director's chair was waiting for me when I pulled into the complex last week. I am an incompetent goof when it comes to putting things together, and so I spent much more time assembling the chair than it should have taken. Still, it was a smart impulse buy. I have spent many hours perched on the chair at one of my huge picture windows, sipping a cocktail, and enjoying the view as the sun goes down and the New York skyline comes into its glorious own.

I have a new inflatable bed set up, which should suit me for the time being. Luckily, I did not have to assemble the thing, just blow it up. After several false starts, my Internet was finally connected, and I set about the seemingly impossible task of assembling the desk I had ordered online from Costco. Though a large corner unit, with three sides, it arrived in a single box. With instructions which turned out to be, at least in part, designed to assemble the mirror image of the desk. Online, previous purchasers assured me that it only takes 10 minutes to assemble this thing. It took me 2 hours, but in the end, the empty corner at the huge picture window now has a lovely, full desk.

I also assembled a floor lamp. Aren't you excited? Because of all the logistical stuff which comes with opening a new branch of one's life, I have yet to do anything particularly New Yorky. Other than spend waaaaaay too much on groceries. One of the largest (and most expensive) grocery stores in Manhattan is located right downstairs, and I have been visiting it frequently. The first time I shopped there, last week, I ran into a Broadway star:

Well, when he's onstage, he actually looks like this:

I have no idea if Nick Adams, from Broadway's Priscilla, Queen of the Desert, is a tenant at Manhattan Plaza, or was just doing some shopping before his evening show, but running into him is just another illustration of the peculiarity of living in this huge city. The population here must be around 9 million, but every time I venture out, I recognize somebody.

(That's Hunter Foster, an actor and playwright who often works in DC, but is now appearing Off-Broadway. Passed him on the street.)

And as for that overpriced grocery store downstairs? I had determined not to frequent any establishment which charges $2.65 for a single roll of paper towels. But then I wandered down the salad dressing aisle. There, amidst a limited selection of cocktail olives and onions, was a jar of these outrageous "cocktail stirrers":

It had never occurred to me to put actual pickles in my martini. I'm now hooked. I don't think I care whether or not the New York apartment ever gets fully furnished. I have a bed, a desk, a lamp, and a cocktail garnish. What more do I need?

Friday Dance Party: Veteran's Day

2011-11-11T20:42:00.000-05:00

My family boasts a couple of veterans, including my father, who lied about his age to join the army at the tail end of WWII, hoping to attend flight school. The war ended too soon, but my father began a lifelong fascination with all things airborne. He spent almost 40 years at Lockheed, indulging his passion.

My father's brother spent a lot longer in the military, and served with distinction in Korea. On my mother's side, my grandfather the doctor served on a hospital ship during WWI. When my grandmother died, she bequeathed me his ceremonial swords, which Doc Sample wore whenever he was in dress uniform.

I have a good buddy serving in the forces overseas now. Before he left, Matt answered my curiosity about the portable, prefabricated meals the troops are often forced to eat, by actually giving me one. This was several years ago, but the packet remains in my kitchen, unopened. I have vowed to keep it until Matt returns to us safely. Then, I'll eat it.

So, as today is Veteran's Day, it provides the background for this week's Dance Party. USO settings have already appeared in previous Parties, including this one from the hilariously motor-mouthed Betty Hutton, and this one, a much more poignant song sung by Bette Midler for the troops in Vietnam in For The Boys. But if Veteran's Day is our theme, there can be only one star for today's edition:

I wrote a bit about Martha Raye ("Colonel Maggie," as she was known to generations of servicemen) the first time she showed up in these pages. She never allowed her chaotic private life to interfere with what she considered her duty as an American citizen: to entertain the troops. This tune comes from Keep 'Em Flying, in which Raye starred (as twins!) with Abbott and Costello. I am not a fan of Abbott nor Costello, so have never seen the film, but our Martha gives a fun account here. The song was nominated for the Oscar, and these soldiers are having so much fun, it almost makes you want to join the army.

Friday Dance Party: Double Bocking

2011-11-05T18:53:00.000-05:00

Composer and sometime lyricist Jerry Bock died a year ago this week (naturally, I wrote about it here). With his partner Sheldon Harnick and librettist Joe Stein, he created one of the preeminent musical theatre classics in the history of the genre, Fiddler on the Roof. That monster hit put

the rest of his career in a bit of a shadow, so where better to add a bit of sunshine than with the Dance Party? And this week is a twofer: two short clips featuring songs from lesser-known musicals by Jerry Bock, each of which is performed by one of my favorite musical comedy ladies.

The Apple Tree ran for about a year in the mid-60s, a respectable run at the time. The show earned a Tony award for its female star, Barbara Harris, but it has not held up well over time. It's actually three shows, as it's comprised of 3 musical one-acts. The first is the Adam and Eve tale (hence the show's title), and it's based on a Mark Twain story. The second act is an adaptation of an allegory written in the 1800s. The third, and most famous, act is adapted from a Jules Feiffer story, Passionella, which in itself is a riff on the Cinderella legend. In The Apple Tree, homely chimney cleaner Ella is transformed into a glamorous TV star.

The show is mainly revived, nowadays, in high school settings, as the production demands are minimal, and there are nice opportunities for young actors. In the original show, Ms. Harris and her costars, Alan Alda and Larry Blyden, appeared in all three playlets, but amateur groups usually spread the wealth, and cast their productions with different actors in each act. The only Broadway revival of the show ran for only a few months in 2006-07, with the great Kristin Chenoweth playing the leading ladies. Kristin appeared in a previous Dance Party (in fact, one of my favorites of all time), and here, she is singing one of her big numbers on The View.

She Loves Me is a Jerry Bock show which has withstood the test of time. The source material dates back many years, to a French play and film. The story was Americanized in a Jimmy Stewart movie called The Shop Around the Corner, and it has undergone several incarnations since, including the Meg Ryan flick You've Got Mail. Back in the 60s, Bock and Harnick adapted the tale into the musical She Loves Me, which provided Barbara Cook another starring role, and provided Jack Cassidy with a Tony.

The show is very well-respected by musical theatre actors, but is not very well known. I guess when you've written Fiddler on the Roof, everything else pales in comparison.

But the show has a terrific score, and the following clip features my favorite song from it. And it's being sung by one of my all-time favorite musical theatre performers, Nancy Dussault.

She is still kicking, bless her, and this clip is from her club act presented at the Gardenia in Hollywood just a few months ago. Dussault had a thriving Broadway career in the 60s, earning a Tony nomination for the flop Bajour, and another one opposite Phil Silvers in Do Re Mi. She was one of the Maria replacements in the original Sound of Music. Decades later, she played the Witch, for a time, in the original production of Into the Woods. If you can find another musical actress who can sub both Mary Martin and Bernadette Peters, I'd be surprised. Nancy has (or had, she's a little long in the tooth these days) a pure soprano and also a strong belt, an unusual combination.

Dussault never became a major star, though she is fondly remembered for her role as Ted Knight's wife in Too Close For Comfort, his follow-up sitcom to Mary Tyler Moore. She also spent two years in The New Dick Van Dyke Show, but should be credited for her work in early morning television as well. Along with actor David Hartman, she was part of the original hosting team of Good Morning America way back in 1975.

But Ms. Dussault is also known for her cabaret act, which is glimpsed in the following clip. In another entry, I will talk about Nancy and her good pal Karen Morrow, another Broadway vet who never achieved the stardom she deserved, but for now, enjoy this number from She Loves Me. It's usually sung by a man, but Nancy Dussault gives it her own personal twist.

Friday Dance Party: Young Men's Christian Association

2011-10-28T18:49:00.001-05:00

Alan Carr was a film and stage impresario who excelled at party planning and anything flamboyant. He began in PR, and helmed the ad campaign which turned a starless low-budget film in 1977 into a cultural phenomenon. That film was Saturday Night Fever, and it brought disco into the mainstream. Carr next produced (and wrote) the screen adaptation of Grease, providing one of the biggest smashes in the history of musical film. Meanwhile, everyone was scrambling to capitalize on the disco craze, Carr included, and he came up with the gigantic flop from which this week's Dance Party is plucked.

Disco was one of those musical styles which wore out its welcome with the public in record time, so by the time Can't Stop the Music arrived in theaters, there was already a public backlash against it.

That's not to say the film is any good, it would be a real stinker, even without that backlash. Carr placed up-and-coming nerd Steve Guttenberg at the center of his film, and enlisted Valerie Perrine as the female lead. Perrine already had an Oscar nomination on her resume (for Lenny), but had failed to achieve anything remotely resembling that earlier success. In supporting roles, Carr used established, but fading, stars such as Tammy Grimes, Barbara Rush, and June Havoc. Even Mrs. Sammy Davis, Jr. showed up. These all seem unusual choices for a disco film, wouldn't you think? But Carr went further, and cast this guy in the romantic leading role:

Today is Bruce Jenner's birthday, and from the pictures I've seen of him lately, he bears only a passing resemblance to the human statue he was in the 70s. Extensive cosmetic surgery will do that, I guess. I believe he is somehow related to the skanky Kardashian clan, but as reality television makes my skin crawl, I can't tell you exactly how.

In the late 70s, though, Jenner was legitimately known as the greatest athlete on earth. The whole planet had watched his gold medal performance in the decathlon during the '76 Olympics, and he was very photogenic. Sadly, he possessed the charisma of limp lettuce, and the acting talent to match. After testing for the leading role in Superman, and of course losing it, he landed in Can't Stop the Music. He's hilariously bad, and it is his only appearance in a feature film to date. Even more, he landed in one of the campiest, most pseudo-homoerotic outfits ever seen onscreen:

Can't Stop the Music has no gay characters or plotlines, but has one of the gayest sensibilities of any "straight" film ever made. Carr surrounded his stars with members of the Village People, the gay-centric club group which was responsible for several disco hits. Their songs included lyrics which winked at their gay fans while leaving an impression with middle America that the group was lousy with machismo. The Village People tunes were peppy and eminently danceable, and they provided the musical inspiration

(such as it was) for Can't Stop the Music.

And who did producer Allan Carr place at the helm of this hodgepodge? This film auteur:

Though she had legitimate musical theatre performance credentials in her early career, Nancy Walker was an unlikely choice to direct an anthem to disco. She had directed some episodic sitcoms, when she was playing Rhoda's mother, but had never been in charge of a feature film. The result she delivered was a colossal mess of a movie. Can't Stop the Music was so atrociously received, it encouraged publicist John J.B. Wilson to inaugurate a new set of awards, The Golden Raspberry, to commemorate the worst films of the year. The presentation has been held annually the night before the Academy Awards, for the past 30 years. These days, stars actually

show up to accept the dishonor. In 1981, the very first Razzie as the Worst Film of the Year went to Can't Stop the Music.

Our Dance Party clip was placed in the film as security, as it was already the Village People's most well-established hit (it still is). It is a fair representation of the entire movie, filled with the flamboyant excess which Allan Carr loved. By placing sexpot Valerie Perrine at its center, he seemed to think that it would mask the overt homo-eroticism of the number. Instead, it's an over-the-top, hilariously rendered, display of beefcake.

Friday Dance Party: "Reach Out. Take A Chance."

2011-10-21T00:56:00.005-05:00

A maudlin, disturbed young man enacts elaborate suicide scenarios to attract his mother's attention, and attends funerals for amusement. A septuagenarian Holocaust survivor with a zest for hookahs, player pianos, and swiping cars, sweeps into his life. She teaches him how to begin to live, even as she says goodbye.

It's Harold and Maude, and it's one of my favorite films. It was a failure at the box office in its initial release in 1971, but has since been revered as one of the masterpieces of American film. AFI includes it in its list of top comedies, and it is preserved at the Library of Congress.

The film made a cult favorite of milque-toast young actor Bud Cort, and the hilarious performance by Vivian Pickles, as the oblivious, self-centered Mrs. Chasen, is worth the price of admission.

But the heart and soul of the movie rests

with two people. The first is Ruth Gordon, who was in the later stages of a remarkable career as an actress and writer. Her contributions to two Hepburn and Tracy films earned her Oscar nods for her screenwriting, and she holds the distinction of creating the role of Dolly Levi in the original production of The Matchmaker. By 1971, Gordon was enjoying a renaissance in her acting career, having won the Oscar only a few years earlier, playing a satanic neighbor in Rosemary's Baby. But her luminous performance as an unlikely object of romance in Harold and Maude is, in my opinion, her career cap.

The above trailer is one of those remixes, and does not include the contributions of the second person whose superb work elevated H&M to masterpiece status. That person is Cat Stevens, who provided one of the most evocative film scores of the 70s, including several songs which can stand alone, but also reflect the film's tone and theme. This week's Dance Party is a great illustration; the number perfectly encapsulates the theme of Harold and Maude, and has spoken to me at several critical times in my own life.

So this is another Dance Party which is also about me. To my detriment, I am often satisfied with the status quo; Change (note the capitol C) is not something I usually seek, so it sometimes takes a reminder, such as this song, to push me in a new direction. I've written about the changes coming in my life, and I will undoubtedly write much more; reminding myself of this great Cat Stevens tune helps me remember all the possibilities of my life. I feel a bit like Harold Chasen, standing on the top of that cliff, playing the banjo and heading into new directions.

Opening A New York Branch

2011-10-18T08:43:00.059-05:00

Back in the early 1970s, Midtown Manhattan was a scary place, and the middle class was deserting the city in droves. In an effort to stem the tide, somebody built two apartment towers right in the middle of what was (and is) known as Hell's Kitchen.

They took up a full city block, and were meant to offer the middle class a safe place to live, in the heart of a very dangerous city. Nobody was interested, and the two towers seemed destined for the scrap heap. But then, somebody came up with the idea that the two buildings, which held over 1600 apartments, should be dedicated to the artists who keep New York City alive. Since then, Manhattan Plaza has been a haven for artists, with 70% of the occupants receiving discounted rents. Those rents are calculated according to the individual tenant's gross income, so the complex became the most desirable place for actors, musicians, playwrights, designers, and the like to live. The place became so desirable, in fact, that in 1995, the waiting list was officially closed. Apparently, it had become just too long to be handled.

In July of 2003, the waiting list was reopened for one month. There was an avalanche of requests to be put on the list, so a lottery was held to randomly choose the artists who would be allowed to be placed on the waiting list for an apartment. I saw the announcement in the trades, and on a fluke, submitted my name. A few months later, I was informed, by mail, that my name had been chosen from the lottery, and I was now #683 on the waiting list.

Since then, once a year, Manhattan Plaza has sent me a form letter which I was required to return, verifying that I wished to remain on the waiting list for a subsidized apartment. It didn't cost me anything to remain on the list, so, year after year, I sent my annual confirmation, and forgot about it.

Three years ago, I received a personal letter from ManPlaza. I was now #55 on the waiting list, and it was time to gather proof that I am, indeed, an artist. The rules for receiving this discounted housing require that the artists earn 51% or more of their income, for the past 3 consecutive years, from the arts. I was able to meet that requirement, and provided proof with my income tax returns.

For the next several years, I was required to furnish the most recent tax returns, to prove that I continue to be a performing artist. In January of this year, after almost 8 years, I received an actual phone call from an actual person connected with Manhattan Plaza. It was now time to gather current income and banking info, so my file could go before two committees. The first would determine that I am, in fact, a qualified performing artist, and the second would crunch the numbers of my income from the last 3 years, and would determine what my monthly rent should be.

I cannot describe how odd all this activity seems to me, as I added myself to this waiting list on a fluke, and never expected to get this far along in the process. I have never had a strong desire to live in New York, and I believe you really need such a desire, as the city is, to quote one of my friends who lives there, a Cruel Bitch.

About a month ago, I was summoned to the city to view an apartment. I was (and still am) in the midst of Witness for the Prosecution in Maryland, so I was forced to donate my single day off to make the roundtrip train schlep to New York. The apartment I was shown was a shambles. The floor had been taken up, there was no fridge or stove in the kitchen, and the entire bathroom was in a rubble in the tub. I suppose this is good news, proof that the place is being completely overhauled for the next tenant. But I was disoriented and rattled, and could not get a clear vision of what this studio apartment might eventually look like.

Everyone I have spoken to swears that Manhattan Plaza tenants are the luckiest actors in New York. I suppose that's true, and, though I still have no urgent desire to hang my hat in Manhattan, I surely cannot pass up an opportunity which has dropped into my lap. So, a week from Monday (Halloween! I'm trying not to read too much into that...), I will be taking a final walkthrough and will be handed the keys to apt #29G.

Perhaps Thespis wants me in New York, but I am not so sure. Luckily, I will be able to keep my condo on Capitol Hill, and will become Bi-Urban. Most of my work comes from DC, so I do not foresee giving up that life. Instead, I will be splitting my time between the two cities, as the need arises.

I am not moving to New York. I am simply opening a branch of my life there.

Soapy Obits: Don't Don't Don't Don't Don't Panic

2011-10-15T02:57:00.004-05:00

The death this week of one of my favorite character actresses encouraged me to make room for these ladies in the obituary file.

Jane White

1922-2011

She identified herself as African-American, though her mixed race parentage gave her light-skinned complexion a Mediterranean look. It was both a blessing and a curse. In her early career (and against her own moral judgement), she lightened her skin with make-up and auditioned for the role which would become her most famous, the scheming Queen Aggravain in the original Off-Broadway production of Once Upon A Mattress. She would repeat the role, opposite Carol Burnett, on Broadway and in two television versions.

She complained that casting directors felt she was "too black to be white, and too white to be black," so she missed the stardom she craved. She was well regarded for her work in the classics, spending much stage time at the NY Shakespeare Festival, and winning an Obie for her work in Coriolanus and Love's Labor's Lost.

White spent some time on the daytime soaps, and was a bit of a groundbreaker there. In fact, my first glimpse of her, years before I realized she was on my cast album for Once Upon A Mattress, was on The Edge of Night. Back in those early days, I would dash home from school to catch the latest episode of Dark Shadows (yes, I was that guy), and often, I would flick the TV on a few minutes early. On one of those afternoons, the channel was set to The Edge of Night; the very first scene of a traditional soap opera I can ever remember seeing featured Jane White. She was playing a duplicitous private nurse, employed by a wealthy senior, who was secretly embezzling from her patient. The fact that I remember her so clearly from an episode from the 1960s is proof that she made quite an impression. I discovered, decades later, that she was the first African-American female to be placed under contract to a daytime soap.

Jane White died July 24, from cancer.

Speaking of soap operas, this lady is also in that genre's history books:

Mary Fickett

1928-2011

She was well respected for her stage career, which was launched when she replaced Deborah Kerr in the Broadway production of Tea and Sympathy. In 1958, she played Eleanor Roosevelt, opposite Ralph Bellamy's FDR, in Sunrise at Campobello, for which she was nominated for a Tony.

But she deserves a space in these pages for her performance as matriarch Ruth Martin on All My Children. She appeared in the original episode of the series in 1970, and three years later was awarded the first Emmy Award ever granted to a performer in daytime drama. Her character on the soap was mother to a Vietnam vet, and she was usually given the politically charged speeches which writer Agnes Nixon peppered throughout those early years of the show. Fickett left the series after 26 years to care for her dying husband, but occasionally returned until her Alzheimer's forced her retirement. She died last month at the age of 83, unaware that the show which earned her soap opera's first Emmy Award for acting, had been cancelled.

Doris Belack

1926-2011

She had a no-nonsense demeanor which, mixed with a strong comic sense, gave her lots of work on stage and television. The list of her sitcom credits, dating from The Patty Duke Show through Sex and the City, would fill up this page. She was a one-episode replacement for Florence Stanley as Abe Vigoda's wife on Barney Miller, and she played Bea Arthur's sister in the first season of The Golden Girls.

Those who knew her personally agreed that she was an invaluable partner to her husband (of 65 years!) Philip Rose, who was the producer responsible for Raisin in the Sun and Purlie Victorious, at a time when bringing non-musical plays starring blacks and written by blacks to Broadway was considered lunacy. Doris spent some time playing a judge in the Law and Order franchise, and earlier, was an original cast member of One Life To Live.

But she is most fondly remembered, at least by me, as Rita Marshall, the producer of the fictional soap-within-a-film which is at the center of Tootsie. Sydney Pollock's casting of Doris Belack in the role of the executive producer of Southwest General, was just one of his masterful moves; Tootsie is full of beautifully rendered, specifically unique comic performances, beginning with Dustin Hoffman of course, and including Jessica Lange (who won the Oscar), Teri Garr (who should have), Dabney Coleman, Charles Durning, Bill Murray, Geena Davis, Lynn Thigpen, Ellen Foley, Pollock himself (in a truly hilarious turn as a theatrical agent), all the way down to the one-liner by Estelle Getty. Belack's role in Tootsie was actually based on Gloria Monty, the real-life dragonlady who took the reigns of General Hospital in 1978 and rescued the show from cancellation (George Gaynes, playing the aging Lothario who stars in Southwest General, was also playing a role based on a real person from General Hospital, actor John Beradino). You can catch most of this dynamite cast in the following climactic clip:

Whether intentionally or by happenstance, Doris's portrayal of Rita Marshall helped illustrate Tootsie's underlying theme of gender expectation, and the difficulty women experience of maintaining femininity while being in a position of power. She died this week at the age of 85, only 4 months after the death of her husband. A joint memorial is being held in Manhattan on Monday, to celebrate the theatrical couple.

Friday Dance Party: Bad Day For Miss French

2011-10-14T11:27:00.019-05:00

It's Friday, October 14th. That date mean anything to you? Other than the fact that it's, you know, today? There's a gang of us up at Olney Theatre for whom the date has real significance. Everybody involved with Witness for the Prosecution knows the date very, very well. On that date, wealthy spinster Miss Emily French was conked on the head with something called a cosh. I'm still not sure what a cosh is, even though I listen to the retelling of the murder 8 times a week, sitting in the courtroom, playing the oddly silent barrister, Mr. Brogan-Moore.

The coincidence of the date was noticed during rehearsal for our production. Not only does October 14th fall on a Friday this year, just as it does in the fictional world of Witness, but we are actually playing on that date. In honor of the spooky occurrence, a couple of our actors came up with a promotional gimmick to celebrate the day. It involves a raffle and a discount and other things which hold little interest for me, I've never seen a raffle go smoothly at a theatrical performance. I'm told that, in one very unfortunate case, the legendary Dorothy Loudon was involved in a show on Broadway which raffled off a live chicken at each performance. Nonetheless, I am still intrigued by the cosmic symmetry involved with performing on this special, murderous day.

So, this week's Dance Party concerns murder. And who else to entertain us than the great Betty Hutton? She graced these pages a couple of years ago, so it's time we revisit the old gal. One of her signature comic tunes, appropriately enough, is called "Murder, He Says." It was written by the great Frank Loesser, as were so many of Hutton's famous songs. I hope I'll be forgiven for presenting it here; despite it's title, it has absolutely nothing to do with the act of homicide. But it's a hoot, and Hutton's a hoot, and so why not?

Witnessing The Prosecution

2011-10-12T07:16:00.003-05:00

My current gig, Witness for the Prosecution at Olney Theatre, is roughly half-way through our run. There was the possibility of an extension, but it appears that will not be happening. Though the Word of Mouth has been good for the show, it's an expensive one to run, with 17 actors and 9 Equity contracts. Our houses have been good, but not full, and I suppose the Powers That Be crunched the numbers, and decided we will be closing as scheduled.

The clientele of the theatre, which tends to be a bit senior in age, likes a good mystery, and this one is put together very well indeed. At our first table read, a few people, including our director, Jack Going, offered their opinion that Witness for the Prosecution is Agatha Christie's "best play," meaning I guess that it is the best written. I offer no opinion on that, academically, but I can suggest that it is her most challenging, as the suspense depends solely on the dialogue. As in Greek tragedy, almost all the action of the play happens off-stage (and in this instance, before the play even begins). This is quite different than other Christie classics, which present a slew of characters, usually gathered in some secluded location, with a murder happening, onstage, toward the end of act one. Witness is not structured this way, which puts a big burden on the actors and director of the piece, to keep the show lively and interesting. Jack is a master at such obstacles; our rehearsals were painstakingly detailed, as Jack and the actors worked out every little piece of business, every little movement, every line emphasis.

That attention to detail seems to have paid off, as our audiences have been very enthusiastic, even during a 3 hour presentation.

The length of our show brought some snarky comment from the Washington Post critic, who compared the production to the short story and the Billy Wilder film version from the 50s, both of which are substantially different from the play script. That critic had nothing but good things to say about our actors and design elements; indeed, his only darts seem aimed at Dame Agatha Christie herself, for penning such an over-written piece. That woman clearly didn't know what she was doing when she was writing a play.

Well, Witness for the Prosecution is being touted, even by our press, as a classic whodunit, but I would beg to differ. Ten Little Indians, The Mousetrap, and Black Coffee are all whodunits in the classic sense, with half a dozen suspects presented to the audience. But I would suggest that, rather than a whodunit, Witness for the Prosecution is a "Didhedoit." As I mentioned, the structure of the play is different, and more difficult to manoeuvre.

Well, the Post's critic notwithstanding, we have had some lovely response from the other reviewers. Go here to read an absolute rave, and the only review likely to mention my minimal contribution to the show. I am playing the very small role of a lawyer's head clerk, and in the courtroom scenes, I don a mustache and wig and observe the proceedings as a silent barrister. I don't mind confessing that this routine was a pain during the rehearsal process, as it meant I was called to every rehearsal (in fact, to every hour of every rehearsal), though my responsibility in the show is very slight. But it all worked out, as, now that we are running, I enjoy dashing about changing costumes, it makes the evening move along nicely. One of my least favorite aspects of live theatre is the fact that, often, the actor spends more time in the green room, waiting to go on, than onstage. This is not the case with me this time, and I'm grateful for that.

Friday Dance Party: For Matthew

2011-10-07T14:47:00.007-05:00

It was 13 years ago tonight that this ferocious hate crime was committed. I wrote about Matthew on the 10th anniversary of his murder, go here to read it. Then come back and enjoy the only thing which can cheer me up at times like these. Dance!

Friday Dance Party: Bye Bye Vi

2011-09-30T05:47:00.002-05:00

Lots of changes are afoot these days, for myself and several of my friends. One day soon, I'll cover all the goings-on in my life, which has been action packed for the past month. Just as I am preparing a pretty significant addition to my own life, I've learned that my best buddies in Los Angeles, with whom I stay every December for some holiday cheer, are also undergoing some changes.

These guys have been enamored of Nature Shit, as I have often called it, ever since they got together a whopping 28 years ago.

This interest has manifested itself by their purchase of a huge RV, which for a long while, they took on the road about half of the weekends every year. That routine has slowed down in the past few years, as expenses and other considerations prevented their popping into the rig and hitting the road with all that frequency.

And let's be honest here, when I say these guys are interested in exploring Nature, what I really mean is, they hook up their monster vehicle to a power source and a sewage system at one of the area's trailer parks, and they settle in for a long weekend eating, drinking, and watching DVDs.

Occasionally, I believe, they venture out of the luxury condo-on-wheels, and take a healthy bit of a walk to their favorite nature spot.

Ah well, whatever makes people happy. They nicknamed the vehicle "Vi," over my objections, of course. One of my biggest pet peeves is assigning human names to inanimate objects, but these guys never listen to my opinion so, whatever. My friends have loved their time on the road, enhanced by the ability to take their pets with them when they travel, which is a must for them. I learned this week that the guys have made the very sensible and adult decision to sell their 8-year old RV, for some very logical reasons which are none of my business. Anyway, I know they part with the rig with a lot of sadness, even as they recognize that it was time to close that chapter of their lives.

Before their final goodbye to their mobile home, they made the video which is this week's Dance Party. I had no idea these guys had such musical talent, and please note the cinematography. The entire song was recorded in a single shot, on a cell phone no less. But the clip gives you a good idea of the layout of "Vi" (and I hope that is the last time I'll ever have to call it that), and is a fitting tribute to the many years of service the old gal gave the boys.

OK, I lied. The above clip is actually from a duo called Killer Paisley, one half of which is my friend Vaughn Irving (he's the tall one who gets naked). I still think this is a pretty swell piece of film making, and a catchy tune, too. But other than the fact that it was shot in a Recreational Vehicle, it has nothing to do with my old California buddies' life on the road.

Friday Dance Party: A Loopy, Limpy Dance

2011-09-23T17:27:00.009-05:00

This week's Dance Party is appropriate for only one reason. I have been limping, severely, all week. On Monday, I used the only day off I am to have in a 20 day period, to travel roundtrip to New York. I had prepaid train tickets, on discount, so it was pretty important that I make my return train at 4 PM. My meeting ran long, and I was forced to dash 10 blocks, carrying a heavy backpack, to make the train. The next day, I could hardly move. It is disheartening, let me tell you, to recognize that simply walking fast would cause such muscle pain. I'm that out of shape? Anyway, I've been struggling to recover all week, just as rehearsals for Witness for the Prosecution have entered the crucial technical phase. My dogs have been barking, and more importantly, my calves have been mooing.

Here's a clip about a limp. The film, sometimes called Hold That Co-Ed, and sometimes called Hold That Girl, was released in 1938, and concerns a crooked politician based loosely on Louisiana's Huey Long. Somehow, his election campaign becomes entangled in a college football season, and musical hi jinks ensue. The film features a late appearance of John Barrymore as the crooked pol, and this little clip stars George Murphy and Joan Davis.

By the way, the trip to New York must be counted a success, which I will elaborate upon when and if I ever get some time off from rehearsal. Not likely any time soon. Until then, enjoy these youngsters dancing with limps. Why didn't this ever catch on?

Friday Dance Party: Better Than Hackensack

2011-09-16T16:31:00.006-05:00

New York City has been center stage this week, due to the big anniversary of the 9/11 attacks. But Manhattan has been on my mind for other reasons which will be discussed in a later posting. For now, I'll just say that I have had a love/hate relationship with the city for many years. I think that may soon be changing, stay tuned.

Judy Garland had no such ambivalence. She loved New York, and she passed that love down to her eldest daughter; Liza and New York go hand-in-hand. This week's Dance Party is a clip from an old TV special, in which Judy sings a simple anthem to the city. The song was written by that most cosmopolitan of composers, Cole Porter.

Friday Dance Party: She's Not Foolin'

2011-09-09T08:31:00.007-05:00

This week's Dance Party stars a repeat offender to these pages, Mitzi Gaynor. You can enjoy her previous appearance here, as well as a brief bit about her career. The clip below comes from Bloodhounds of Broadway, released in 1952, and also features those great stars Mitzi Green and Richard Allen. Never heard of Mitzi Green and Richard Allen? Me neither, so I guess they sank into obscurity. But our Ms. Gaynor is still around, and just celebrated her 80th birthday on Sunday.

Our star is the brunette in this clip, and she clearly outshines her cohorts here. Enjoy:

Theatre Droppings: A Boy Detective and the Punks at Rydell High

2011-09-05T19:35:00.000-05:00

I only had a couple of weeks between the completion of the last gig, and the beginning of the new one (and that's a pretty unusual thing in my career), so how did I spend the time? Busman's Holiday, of course.

I was very curious about the new musical rep which is just starting up over at Signature Theatre. As far as anyone can tell, it's the first time a professional theatre has attempted to run two World Premiere musicals in a rotating rep. My old friend Matt Conner is the composer of one of the shows, and I hope I can find the time to catch that one. But the double whammy we received here in DC, of the Unexpected Earthquake and Hurricane Irene, caused lots of box office trouble around town, so The Sig was offering hugely discounted tix to their preview performances of The Boy Detective Fails, the other musical in their Rep.

The show is based on a novel I have not read, so the story was all new to me. The production presented a bundle of contradictions, all of them good. The show has a lot of whimsy to it, not least of which is the scenic design, which turns all the buildings into dollhouses.

But the story at the center of the whimsy is psychologically dark. Our leading characters are all damaged souls who are haunted by losses of the past. I'm no judge of new musicals, that's for sure, but I think this one has a future.

Stephen Gregory Smith has the title role, and he illustrates those contradictions I mentioned, as he is both tightly wound and endearing, a pretty unlikely combo. The ensemble is quite strong, with some of the best character singers in town, including my former Don Quixote, Tom Simpson, who gets to go over the top as one of the villains of the piece. Tom plays his guy as a descendant of Christopher Lloyd at his looniest, I half-expected him to arrive onstage in a time-traveling DeLorian. Tom and Stephen have some great comic moments together, then Tom pulls a fast one by eliciting unexpected compassion from the audience, as he struggles with dementia. Joe Colarco has directed this piece with such strong visual and emotional elements, I hope it has further life.

From the sublime to the ridiculous, well, Grease is the word. I've already written a bit about my love/hate relationship with this perennial. I earned my Equity Card playing Teen Angel in this musical, and I remember well how much fun it is to perform. But having seen quite a few productions over the years, I'm not so sure that the audience has as much fun as the actors. Olney Theatre just closed their version, which was so successful it extended many times. It's a bundle of energy, and Olney's cast was peppered with quite a few performers with whom I shared the stage in Joe's Coat earlier this year.

Naturally, those folks did the most outstanding work. Funny how that always happens. A more lively bunch of slatternly thugs and molls you are unlikely to find. Grease, of course, makes heroes out of delinquents, and teaches the regrettable lesson that, in order to be accepted, you must conform.

Grease the stage musical is afflicted with the same phenomenon from which Cabaret the stage musical suffers. The film versions of these two shows were vastly more popular than the originals (and at least in Cabaret's case, the piece was greatly improved by the adjustments the film makers made). So nowadays, stage productions of these musicals are expected to incorporate some if not all of those changes. In the case of Grease, the show now includes the big hit numbers which John Travolta and Olivia Newton-John performed in the film, songs which were huge pop hits, but which do not appear in the original. These songs, including the title number, are shoe-horned into the stage show pretty bluntly, but what the hell. Anything which will increase the audience member's enjoyment is OK with me.

And Olney's show was great fun to watch, even as the leading players were, I guess necessarily, dead ringers for Travolta and Newton-John. My peeps did great, including Parker Drown as a pretty squirrelly Sonny, and Alan Wiggins as that engaging doofus Doody. Vinnie Kempski pulled off the Teen Angel number with terrific presence (and this kid is still in college!), and Ashleigh King dominated the prom scene as Cha-Cha (I was sorry that, in order to make room for all those songs from the film, the ballad usually sung by the character, "It's Raining on Prom Night," was cut). The choreography was electric, and in fact, was the most enjoyable part of this Grease.

I'm excited to begin Witness for the Prosecution tomorrow, at Olney Theatre of all places, and the show will keep me busy for the next couple of months. I may not be able to enjoy any more Busman's Holidays for a while, but I am glad I chose to see The Boy Detective Fails and Grease before my schedule filled up.

Friday Dance Party: The Supremes Reunion

2011-09-02T11:23:00.014-05:00

This week's Dance Party celebrates a little-known reunion of the classic Pop/R&B group The Supremes. The event happened decades after Diana Ross left the group, and included four original members. But first, as usual, we are inspired by a dead guy:

Nick Ashford

1941-2011

This well-known songwriter, producer, and performer died last week, the same day as Jerry Leiber, who inspired last week's clip. It helps the Dance Party when famous musicians die.

Ashford was part of a performing/writing/producing team which included his wife, Valerie Simpson. Together they provided hits for just about everybody at Motown Records and elsewhere: Ray Charles, Teddy Pendergrass, Gladys Knight, both with and without Pips, Smokey Robinson, Marvin Gaye, the Marvellettes, the 5th Dimension, Chaka Khan, and the Supremes. As a performing team, they had a huge seller with "Solid," and had success with "Street Corner," "It Seems to Hang On," and others.

As producers, they found great success with many of the above artists, but perhaps above all, with Diana Ross. They produced her first three solo albums, including her self-titled solo debut. That album produced two big hits, both penned by Nick Ashford and Valerie Simpson, "Reach Out and Touch (Somebody's Hand)" and the song which provides today's Dance Party.

A bit of context: as The Supremes were hitting the heights with their music, there was trouble afoot backstage. In 1967, Florence Ballard, one of the founding members of the group, had gained weight and was hitting the bottle. During this period, Motown changed the name of the group to Diana Ross and The Supremes, preparing to spin the star off into a solo career. Jealousy reared its head, and after a period during which Ballard was unruly and often drunk onstage, she was replaced. This backstage drama forms the skeleton plot of the musical Dreamgirls.

But here's a little known fact. In the late 1980s, the Supremes reunited for one single performance. That reunion included Diana Ross, Mary Wilson, Florence Ballard, and the singer who replaced her, Cindy Birdsong. If you watch this clip, the foursome are surprisingly assured, considering the animosity which the breakup of decades earlier had caused. So, in honor of Nick Ashford, here is one of his biggest compositions:

Just One More Thing Obits

2011-09-01T08:10:00.007-05:00

Both these gents died several months ago, and everyone heard about them, unless you live under a rock. But in attempting to clean out the ol' obituary file, they deserve some mention.

Peter Falk

1927-2011

He was not the first choice to play Columbo, he wasn't even the first actor to play the role. The now-famous detective first made his appearance in an episode of The Chevy Mystery Show in 1960, and was played by Bert Freed. The episode was written by Richard Levinson and William Link, who later adapted their teleplay for the stage (Scarlett O'Hara's father, Thomas Mitchell, played it in California and Boston, it never made it to Broadway). In 1967, third time was the charm, but even then, Falk almost missed his chance to create a TV institution. The role of Columbo was first offered to Bing Crosby, then to Lee J. Cobb; it finally went to Peter, who played it in the TV film which spawned the series.

Columbo became one of the most recognized detective shows in TV history, but was never a weekly series. After its first appearance as a stand-alone TV film (Prescription: Murder), a second, pilot film was shot (Ransom for a Dead Man, directed by a young Stephen Spielberg). Columbo was then placed in the revolving wheel of series which made up the NBC Mystery Movie, sharing the spot with Dennis Weaver as McCloud and the team of Rock Hudson and Susan St. James as MacMillan and Wife. After a break of several years, Falk returned as Columbo in a series of TV movies, ultimately playing the rumpled detective for 30 years or so. He won four Emmy Awards for his performance (an earlier Emmy was earned in 1962 for a guest shot on a Dick Powell series).

Falk's glass eye, a result of a cancer operation as a child, gave him a permanent squint, which served him well throughout his career. In the early 60s, he won back-to-back Oscar nominations for playing gangsters in back-to-back movies, Murder, Inc., and Pocketful of Miracles (which was to be Frank Capra's final film). He was working as an efficiency expert in Connecticut (he had a Masters degree in Public Administration) when he landed in an acting class taught by Eva LaGallienne, who encouraged him to become a professional. In New York, he was first noticed playing the bartender in the highly regarded revival of The Iceman Cometh opposite Jason Robards. He returned to the stage throughout his career, in plays by Arthur Miller, George Bernard Shaw, and Neil Simon (he was Broadway's original Prisoner of Second Avenue). He had a sure way with comedy, holding his own among the cast of clowns in It's a Mad Mad Mad Mad World and The Great Race. He was also seen to good effect in several John Cassavetes films, all intermixed with his regular returns to the small screen and Columbo.

Peter Falk died June 23 as a result of complications from pneumonia and Alzheimer's. He was 83.

While Falk was a versatile actor appearing in a wide variety of roles throughout his career, this guy...um...was not. But he created a lawman on TV as enduring as Lt. Columbo.

James Arness

1923-2011

You would be nuts to put this guy in a Neil Simon play or opposite Gene Rowlands in a John Cassavetes film, but he made a significant impact on the landscape of weekly television. At 6-foot-seven, he belonged in Westerns (or Science Fiction. He played the title character in the 1951 classic The Thing From Another World, in which his character was described as an "intellectual carrot"). He had quite a few films to his credit when his buddy John Wayne declined an offer to star in a TV Western, and suggested Arness as a substitute. James played Marshall Matt Dillon in Gunsmoke for a whopping 20 years, then revived the character in several TV films in later decades. The show earned Arness three Emmy nominations in its early years, when the show was a half-hour black and white program. By the time Gunsmoke ended, it had amassed 635 episodes, and currently holds the title of longest running prime-time drama series in American TV history (an accomplishment it shares with Law and Order, which produced only 456 episodes during its run).

Arness was a shy man who shunned publicity and banned the press from the Gunsmoke set. He walked with a slight limp, due to a WWII injury, and the fact that he had almost no training as an actor probably limited his versatility (his brother Peter Graves had a much more varied career, which I mentioned here). When he died in June, he was greatly praised for his work in Gunsmoke, a show which apparently broke the mold of TV Westerns by featuring a law man who preferred to talk rather than shoot. I say "apparently," because I never saw a single episode of the show, despite the fact that it ran during a period when I was growing up and was watching a lot of television. Westerns just did not appeal to me, so I never tried to sit through the show.

Full disclosure: I never watched an entire episode of Columbo either (though I did take a peek at the ill-advised spinoff series Mrs. Columbo, in which soap star Kate Mulgrew solved crimes on her own). Detective series were not to my taste either. But the contributions of Peter Falk and James Arness to the cultural landscape cannot be denied. Arness died from natural causes at the age of 88.

A Special Dance Party: Goodnight Irene!

2011-08-27T19:40:00.020-05:00

Most of us on the East Coast have been preoccupied with Hurricane Irene, and with just about everything shut down, we are all spending Saturday Night hunkered down, waiting for the lights to go out or the roof to fly away. Well, as long as we're all stuck here at home on a Saturday Night, why not offer an impromptu Dance Party?

There can be no other topic for this Very Special Episode of the Friday Dance Party (even on a special night!) than this:

Irene was a musical which made its Broadway debut in 1919; it became the longest running show (at 675 performances. Broadway was still pretty young back then), a title it held for almost 20 years. The show created a star out of leading lady Edith Day, who went on to repeat her role in London, and then become one of that city's premier musical actresses. Irene should be remembered for placing a veiled gay character at its center, a flamboyant dress designer provocatively called Madam Lucy. Many years later, Irene should also be remembered as the Broadway debut of Debbie Reynolds.

In 1971, encouraged by the smash revival of another hit from the 20s, No, No Nanette, somebody had the great idea to dig up and dust off Irene. The production had lots of trouble on the road. Billy DeWolfe, hired to play Madam Lucy, had to withdraw due to ill health (he was replaced by show killer George S. Irving, who nevertheless went on to win the Tony for his performance), but that was the least of the problems. In their infinite wisdom, the producers placed this lightweight piece of musical comedy fluff in the hands of (are you ready?) John Gielgud. The Shakespearean titan had never directed a musical, and was a disaster. Despite its trouble, the show was selling out in Philadelphia, on the strength of Reynolds's name, so when she came down with laryngitis, one of the most notorious of all musical theatre performances took place. Instead of cancelling the sold-out performance, Debbie went onstage and mouthed her words, with Gielgud reading her dialogue from offstage.

It was little wonder that Sir John was replaced by Gower Champion, and book doctors were called in to overhaul the show (one of the great librettists of the century, Joseph Stein, had a hand in the revisions, a point I mentioned when I wrote of Stein's death). In the end, only a handful of the original tunes remained, the score was augmented by other songs from the period, and some new ones written by Charles Gaynor and Otis Clements.

Irene limped into New York in March of 1973, where the New York Times proclaimed it "the best 1919 musical in town." Much was made of the fact that Reynolds, who had substantial musical comedy credentials in film, was making a belated Broadway debut, and the show turned into a financial success.

In honor of Hurricane Irene, and the barely remembered musical which also bears the name, here is the best known number from the show. It is actually one of those tunes added to the revival, it does not appear in the original score. Here, Debbie Reynolds does a swell job of bringing some personal charisma to a song which is, let's face it, always tied to Judy Garland. But hey, we're all here on a Saturday night, waiting out the storm. Why not let a Hollywood legend entertain us?

Friday Dance Party: Let's Break Out The Booze And Have A Ball

2011-08-26T07:07:00.025-05:00

I was always an admirer of Peggy Lee, dating back to my childhood, when my father had so many of her albums. If you looked up "sultry" in the dictionary (at least in the 50s and 60s), you'd find her picture. She had an extraordinary career as a singer, songwriter, and occasional actress (she received an Oscar nomination for Pete Kelly's Blues in 1955).

In addition to her impressive recording successes, she led a campaign, in the early 90s, to force Disney to compensate her for the huge video sales they were earning for Lady and the Tramp. That animated classic from 1955 included 8 songs written by Lee (she performed several of them as well), for which she was paid $3500 at the time. Decades later, the Disney company was raking in the millions, but refusing payment to the artists involved. The landmark case brought attention to outdated copyright laws, and Peggy won a victory for film and recording artists, as well as herself.

But none of that has anything to do with this week's Dance Party, which is inspired by the death this week of this guy:

Jerry Leiber

1933-2011

He was in high school when he first joined forces with composer Mike Stoller, and together they became the preeminent tunesmiths of early rock and roll. They had so many monster hits, it's hard to keep track. Their first, the Elvis Presley recording of Hound Dog, was one they openly despised, though they kept cashing the checks I'm sure. They wrote for many if not most of the black singers and groups of the day, furnishing hits for The Drifters, The Coasters, and others. When Ben E. King left The Drifters, they penned his first solo hit, "Spanish Harlem," and followed up with one of the most satisfying hits of that or any era, "Stand By Me." They also wrote "On Broadway," an anthem which turned out to be prescient of their later Broadway success. In 1995, their song catalogue provided the basis for Smokey Joe's Cafe, which had a successful 5 year run and paved the way for a slew of other juke box musicals.

This week's Dance Party was not included in that show, with good reason. As the 60s ended, Leiber and Stoller were aging out of fashion in rock and roll, and they turned their attentions to more adult fare. The most famous of these songs became a smash hit for Peggy Lee, the final in her six-decade career. It is an unusual mix of song and narration, reminiscent of German cabaret in the 30s. You can almost hear Marlena Dietrich crooning the tune, but thankfully, we have Peggy Lee instead. The song hit #1 on the Adult Contemporary chart in 1970, and became one of Lee's signature numbers. She continued to tour for many years, even as ill health and a fall from which she never fully recovered kept her in a wheelchair. Some of those last concerts were no longer sultry, they were positively somnabulant. But this clip, from a concert in the early 70s, shows Lee performing the song with the quiet dignity which I remember vividly.

The song is a tribute to survival, though there are those who consider it a tribute to suicide. Who cares, it remains one of my favorites. It is arranged here, by the way, by Randy Newman. In honor of songwriter Jerry Leiber, who died Monday at the age of 78:

Happy Dancing

2011-08-24T20:16:00.013-05:00

Because my name begins with an initial, rather than a name, I have participated in the following dialogue for decades:

Somebody: "What does the R. stand for?"
Me: "It stands for my first name."

Yeah, I'm often that kind of smartass. My first name is no secret, it's Robert. But I have never been known by that name, to anybody who matters. Even my social security card, obtained for me when I entered school at age 6, proves that my name is R. Scott Williams.

That "R" may stand for something else, judging by recent events. I suppose I am becoming "Replacement Scott Williams." And I'm loving it.

Many months ago, I told the story in these pages about my being hired for a production of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat on the very day I was to start rehearsal. Somebody dropped out after one rehearsal, and I was in the right place at the right time. A similar situation arose just a few days ago. Olney Theatre's Producing Director, the lovely and talented Brad Watkins, was in a pickle. He had just lost an actor for a show starting rehearsal in just a few weeks, and he posted on Facebook his dilemma. He hoped any of his FB Friends would forward his info on to any actors who might be appropriate to fill in.

I saw this note on Facebook, and dropped Brad an email, alerting him that I was available for the time period in question. The role is a pretty small one, so I was unclear whether or not Olney was looking for a union actor, but Brad responded immediately, inviting me to read a short scene for the show's director. I have auditioned for Jack Going a couple of times in past seasons, but had not attended the initial call for Witness for the Prosecution several months ago.

You can see this happy ending coming, can't you? I auditioned for Jack and Brad yesterday (in the midst of some substantial chaos happening in this region, due to the earthquake), and today, I was hired. So, for the second time in a single season, I have a job because somebody else quit. Hey, I don't care in the least how I get a gig, I only care to do my best once I get it.

I know I'll be writing more about this project as it begins, but for now, I'm just glad to have a fun way to spend the next couple of months. It's time for some happy dancing.