Friday Dance Party: Still In Business

I am not alone in thinking Stephen Sondheim is the greatest American composer/lyricist ever to work in musical theatre. Just check out the folks at Roundabout Theatre Company, who just renamed one of their Broadway spaces The Stephen Sondheim Theatre. Sorry Henry Miller fans, the theatre which used to carry his name now belongs to the Tony- and Oscar-winning Steve.

Sondheim is, these days, late in his career, but his work is still being showcased all over the place. On Broadway, for example, as I write this, the acclaimed revival of West Side Story, for which he contributed lyrics way back in the 50s, is still going strong after a year or more. The first revival of A Little Night Music is poised to swipe some Tony awards, with the star power of Catherine Zeta-Jones and Angela Lansbury keeping the houses full (this revival is the fulfillment of a wish I made a while ago). And as if that were not enough, the newest revue of Steve's work, Sondheim on Sondheim is currently in previews, with a starry cast including Barbara Cook and Vanessa Williams (I wrote about seeing the first Broadway revue of Sondheim's work, Side By Side By Sondheim, here), and a second revue called Putting it Together remained on the Great White Way as long as its star, Carol Burnett.

I was first introduced to the work of this genius in my college days, by one of the biggest Sondheimophiliacs ever, my friend Valerie. Val is a few years older than I, and headed a clique which centered around musical theatre, so I was always flattered to be included in her gatherings. At one such evening, she pulled out the cast album of the original A Little Night Music, and I was entranced. Frankly, I was so blown away that I sat in a corner the rest of the night, reading along with the lyric sheet as the album played.

I was hooked. I was soon studying the lyric sheets and cast albums of Follies and Company, and since then, am sure I have spent countless hours reveling in the Sondheim canon as it developed. I suppose I would have eventually found Sondheim on my own, but Valerie's enthusiasm for his genius was infectious. She has become one of Steve's acquaintances over the years, and with his approval, has just created a new revue of his work appropriate for teen performers, entitled Our Time. A few years ago, Val flew out to DC, and we enjoyed an out-of-town tryout of Sondheim's most recent show, Bounce. Well, at the time it was called Bounce; by the time it finally reached New York, it was called Road Show. (If you are interested, I revealed in previous pages my feelings about how Steve's work has been translated to film, and my reactions to the Company revival of several years ago.)

I have a full list of roles in Sondheim musicals I would like to play, but most will remain out of my vocal range. I've had a ball in the two roles I have played, in Sondheim's first Broadway appearance as both composer and lyricist, A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum. Back in the very early 80s, I played conniving slave Pseudolus in a dinner theatre venture:

Over a decade later, I played the comic lech Senex in another production (both of which were directed by my best buddy Judy):

Have I wandered down memory lane long enough? Stephen Sondheim turned 80 years old last Monday, and a star-studded celebration was held in New York; the concert will be telecast on PBS later this spring. For this week's Dance Party, here is a clip from Steve's 75th Birthday Celebration, held in San Francisco. The song is from one of Sondheim's film scores, Dick Tracy, and was introduced to the world by Madonna, of all people (another Sondheim song from that film, Sooner or Later, won the Oscar.) Here, the song is performed by an adolescent belter named Hannah Rose Cornfeld:

Happy Birthday, Steve, and give us many more years of your genius.

Sunshine vs. Clouds

The week just past has been a prime example of the schizophrenic nature of the actor's life. Or at least, of THIS actor's life.

Our production of Lord Arthur Savile's Crime has continued apace, with audiences both large and small. The crowds are very much enjoying this slight, off-kilter Oscar Wilde tale of wit and murder. This week, we welcomed a new cast member, the lovely and talented Sunshine Capelletti, whose parents must surely have been hippies. I worked with Sunshine many times in the past several years, in staged readings, where we almost always played husband and wife, or brother and sister. She is a terrifically talented young woman, and she is the perfect choice to replace our original ingenue, Tricia McCauley, who had to leave the show due to a prior engagement.

After a gracious little amount of actual rehearsal, Sunshine stepped into the breach (and the breeches, as one of her roles is a man), and our shows have continued to gain a following. I have found a real affection for the two roles I play in the show, and an even greater affection for the folks with whom I am sharing the stage. I will be very sad when the show comes to its conclusion next week.

But for now, our shows have been greeted with enthusiasm and laughter from our audiences. It's been quite a good week, Stage Guild-wise.



But, as almost always happens in my professional life, where there is success, there is also failure. And I had my share of that this week as well. I was up for two shows this week, losing one because of stale fish, and the other because I have a penis.

Fords Theatre ("But otherwise, Mrs. Lincoln, how did you enjoy the play?" Yes, that Fords Theatre) had called me in twice for a new musical they are producing next year. I was frankly surprised to get the second callback, as the auditors did not express much enthusiasm during my first. But that just proves that one never knows, do one? I was very pleased to get the second callback, and worked quite a while on the four scenes and three songs they sent me to prepare. On the day of my callback, illness struck, and I just could not get out of bed any longer than to send an email apologizing for my missing the audition. That email was not picked up before my appointment time, so I received a series of messages and emails from the casting intern and the musical accompanist, wondering where the hell I was. Well, I was flat on my back in bed, trying not to expel any more noxious bodily fluids.

Once my situation was known to them, the folks at Fords were very sympathetic, but they had a show to cast, dammit, and apparently that show had to be cast that very day (opening night for this show is March 30, 2011. That's not a misprint; they were desperate to cast this show which will open to the public more than a year from now).

Well, what can you do? Point out to them that, with rehearsals starting 11 months in the future, perhaps their sense of urgency was premature? I had much higher hopes for a summer stock gig which turned from a good possibility to a sure bet to a complete gender reversal, in the course of about a week. I was invited to attend a private callback for this one (no one else was there, just yours truly), and spent half an hour having a ball with the director, my buddy Ray. I sang, read a speech or two, and talked about the logistics of putting this oddball little musical satire onstage. When I left, I felt I had delivered my best audition in a number of years.

I was pretty crestfallen, then, when the call came six days later, telling me I was not, in fact, going to be playing this aggressive theatrical agent in Ruthless, the Musical. They were going a different way, a euphemism often used to dismiss an actor. But Totem Pole Playhouse wasn't kidding; they really WERE going in a different direction: they were hiring a woman.



I suppose the role is sometimes played by an actress, since the character is in fact a female. It was originally written for, and played by, a man. What's more fun than a man in a dress?

I have only played a few drag roles in my career, and I looked pretty gruesome in all of them. Perhaps a picture such as this one surfaced, and Totem Pole thought such a vision would frighten their audiences. Who knows?

So, after Sunday's matinee of Lord Arthur Savile's Crime, I return to the place where we performers spend so much of our time: on the dole.

Friday Dance Party: Foster Care

I love this gal's story. After spending several years in the ensembles of various Broadway musicals (Grease!, Will Rogers Follies, Annie, Les Miz) she was plucked from the chorus of Thoroughly Modern Millie during its pre-Broadway try-out in San Diego. The show's original star was Kristin Chenoweth (check out her Dance Party here, it's a hoot), who nurtured the title role through the workshop process only to bow out to film her own sitcom (which flopped). Chenoweth was replaced by Erin Dilly, who was herself replaced by this week's Dance Party star, Sutton Foster. (Don't feel too bad for Dilly, she went on to create Truly Scrumptious in the Broadway Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, and played Cinderella in the 2002 revival of Into the Woods).

But back to the show at hand, Thoroughly Modern Millie. Based on the 1967 film musical starring Julie Andrews (which has already appeared on the Dance Party, go here to watch Andrews and co-star Mary Tyler Moore hoof in the elevator), the stage version had a pretty long gestation period before seeing the light of day. Both Beatrice Arthur and Pat Carroll were involved in various workshops of the show, playing the role created, hilariously, on film by Beatrice Lillie (that role, the villainous Mrs. Meers, ultimately went to Harriet Harris, who won the Tony).

Our girl Sutton won the Tony, too, for what many consider to be one of THE break-out performances of the decade. After Millie, Foster went on to create roles in Little Women, The Drowsy Chaperone, and Shrek the Musical, all of which earned her additional Tony nominations. She played yodeling lab assistant Inga in Mel Brooks' Young Frankenstein, and will be headlining the Encores! staging of Sondheim's cult flop Anyone Can Whistle next month in New York. Despite all this success, she remains virtually unknown outside musical theatre circles.

She is another of those Broadway stars who would have become household names by now, if such things still occurred. They don't, so she, and her brother Hunter Foster, who also has much musical theatre cred, will remain below most people's radar until they snag a leading role in a film or TV series.

But not here at the Friday Dance Party! Below, enjoy one of Sutton's showstoppers from her Tony-winning performance as Millie. This sequence was broadcast on the Tony awards, which explains why the entire cast trots out to take a bow at the end of the song. The number is one of many which were written for the stage show, as much of the film score consisted of old standards which were jettisoned for music more appropriate for the story. I am a sucker for tap, which is yet another reason I am attracted to numbers like this:

Sutton Foster turned 35 years old yesterday.

Seeking Naked Boys

...but not for any prurient reasons, rest assured!

My buddy Jeffrey Johnson, artistic director of Ganymede Arts in DC, is putting the word on the Rialto that he needs some naked boys who sing, for a show entitled, appropriately, Naked Boys Singing.

This is a musical revue which has been around for quite some time, from humble beginnings in West Hollywood to a long-running production Off-Broadway, to a filmed version currently available on DVD. There was even a locally produced version, oh, at least a decade or so ago. How I've missed this thing, I don't know.

Ganymede Arts is the local group dedicated to the Gay/Lesbian/Bisexual/Transgendered experience (someone once noticed that by the time you've finally included all those orientations, the parade has already passed). When Jeff took the helm of the group, they were called Actors Theatre of Washington, and had been producing off and on for quite a long while. Jeff has expanded the group's mission in recent years, to include all the visual and performing arts. Ganymede sponsors an annual GLBT Arts Festival each autumn, which usually includes staged readings of plays, stand-up comedy nights, dance, music, and guest stars such as Julie Halston and Karen Black. There is usually a bit of drag, too.


Ok, I dislike drag intensely, or rather, dislike the art of the lip-sinc (if indeed that is an art, which I refute), so I usually can't stand drag performances. But I have seen Ganymede's biggest star, Special Agent Galactica (don't ask me the significance of the name, maybe she's a spy from another planet), and have been very entertained. I lay that compliment squarely at the feet of Jeff Johnson, who portrays the pink-haired pseudo-chanteuse; there is something more complete about his performances, probably because he is an actor rather than a drag queen. (That's a term I hate, too. Let's call Jeff a gender illusionist, a term he earned by portraying Little Edie Beale in a home-grown play which has an ongoing life in New York...I wrote about seeing that show here).

I seem to have wandered off topic a bit. Ganymede Arts will be returning to full theatrical producing this spring with a new production of Naked Boys Singing! (note the exclamation point, like Hello, Dolly! or George M! or Hallelujah Hollywood! Musicals are always more exciting with exclamation points, don't you think?). And don't you love a show where there is absolutely no doubt what you are in for? Jeffrey is currently casting non-union exhibitionists who can sell a song in their birthday suit, go here for more audition info.

I will probably try to work one of the performances into my schedule...

Mission: Obituary

Once again, I've fallen a bit behind on the obits, but hey, I'm working.

You don't need to hear much about this guy, do you?

Corey Haim

1971-2010

or this one?

Andrew Koenig

1968-2010

They were just two in a very long line of child stars and teen idols who could not handle celebrity, or rather, their loss of celebrity as they aged. Haim's death may have been an accidental overdose, while Koenig's was surely suicide (he was found hanging in a tree, so unless he was pulling a David Carradine, it was intentional). Truthfully, both guys look vaguely familiar to me, but I would be unable to pick either of them out of a lineup. So, if you want further details regarding their lives and deaths, go elsewhere.

I'd rather mention this quirky gal, whose career I followed, as she was one of the ladies In Support:

Caroline McWilliams

1945-2010

She spent the early 70s in New York, splitting her time between stage work (Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, The Rothschilds) and her day job on soaps (Guiding Light, Another World). Her training in daytime drama served her well when she moved to Hollywood and snagged a regular role in the second season of Soap, a parody of the soap opera genre.

When Robert Guillaume moved from that series to his own, she went with him, spending three years as a regular on Benson. Her television career included recurring spots on Beverly Hills 90210 and Judging Amy.

She was married to Michael Keaton in 1982, a marriage which ended in divorce but produced a son, Sean Douglas Keaton. Caroline died February 11th from multiple myeloma at the age of 64.

Everybody has heard this guy died a few days ago:

Peter Graves
1926-2010

Born in Minnesota, he headed to Hollywood after a stint in the Air Force near the end of WWII. He spent some time in low-budget sci-fi flicks, and appeared for several seasons on Saturday morning television in Fury, a live-action series about a boy and his horse. He delivered a strong supporting performance as a Nazi in Stalag 17, and included Night of the Lonely Hunter and The Long Gray Line in his list of higher-profile credits. While his older brother James Arness was sleepwalking through two decades of Gunsmoke, Graves had a bit more variety to his career. It was his appearance in two unsold pilots in the mid-60s which brought him to the attention of Desilu Studios, who were looking to replace Steven Hill in their new espionage series Mission: Impossible. (Hill made a career-long habit of deserting hit shows: decades later, he left Law and Order in its prime). As the cool-headed Mr. Phelps, Graves led the series for six seasons (and returned to the role in a remake in the late 80s, which lasted two years).

Graves joined fellow leading men Robert Stack, Lloyd Bridges, and Leslie Nielson in the parody film Airplane, and returned in its sequel.

He won an Emmy for hosting the documentary series Biography, a program so successful it spawned its own cable network.


But for me, Peter Graves will always be Mr. Phelps. Mission: Impossible was appointment television in our house, for its edge-of-your-seat suspense. The show made stars of our man Peter, as well as the husband-and-wife team of Martin Landau and Barbara Bain. In its later seasons, such stars as Leonard Nimoy (post-Star Trek), Sam Elliot, Lee Meriwether, and Lesley Ann Warren (who dropped her middle name at the time, in hopes it would improve her standing as a serious actress) joined the Impossible Mission Force.


Graves won a Golden Globe for his work in the original Mission: Impossible, a series which spawned a national catchphrase ("your mission, should you decide to accept it...") and a musical score by Lalo Schifrin which became one of the most widely recognized of all television themes. It accompanied the title sequence of each episode, right before Mr. Phelps received his instructions via tape recorder (which always self-destructed). This sequence was either an editor's dream or nightmare, as it always included scenes from "tonight's episode." At the time, it was very unusual for a weekly TV series to employ such labor intensive jump-cut editing to its opening every single week, but it was always beautifully executed, at a time when digital editing was unavailable. Take a peek:



Here's the opening from a later season, with the same tension-building editing:


Peter Graves died last week from a heart attack, after a family brunch, just shy of his 84th birthday. That was some breakfast burrito!

Friday Dance Party: Oscar's Oversights

The Internet was abuzz earlier this week (or at least, my section of it was) after the Academy Awards Show's "memorial" section aired. A few folks were left out, and some people were hopping mad. (Click on the highlighted names below to read my original obits.) The most glaring oversight seemed to be this model-turned actress:
Farrah Fawcett made her fame in television and with her iconic poster back in the 70s, but she appeared in a few big screen items which deserved some notice. Well, maybe only one, but the fact that Michael Jackson was included in the memoriam, after his whopping contribution of one film, then why wasn't Fawcett? Her appearance in the film version of Extremities, as a rape victim who turns the tables on her attacker, garnered her a Golden Globe nomination, and surely should have garnered her a mention at the Oscars.

Like Fawcett, this guy was also known primarily for his television work, but he delivered several high-profile performances on the big screen which should have warranted inclusion:

Henry Gibson's list of feature films is longer than you might think; those of us "of a certain age" recall his swell voice work as Wilbur the pig in the Hanna-Barbera feature cartoon Charlotte's Web. He is well-remembered for strong performances in Robert Altman films, with his work in Nashville garnering him a Golden Globe nomination.

Of the other actor-types who were overlooked at the Oscars, I would surely include this guy:

Edward Woodward became a TV star in The Equalizer, but earlier in his career, he appeared in at least two prestigious features, Breaker Morant and The Wicker Man.

This guy may have been better known for musical appearances, but his movie work still warranted some recognition:


Harve Presnell is well-remembered as a cranky coot in Fargo, but decades earlier, he headlined The Unsinkable Molly Brown opposite Debbie Reynolds. He won the Golden Globe in 1965.

This gal's work was also better known on stage and on TV, but as she's always been a favorite of mine, I missed her inclusion most of all:



Beatrice Arthur's movie credits include Lovers and Other Strangers, Mel Brooks's History of the World Part I, and a Golden Globe nomination for one of the most notorious film adaptations of a Broadway smash, Mame.

That critical flop, released in 1974, placed TV clown Lucille Ball in the title role, robbing us of an iconic stage recreation by original star Angela Lansbury. The film is sunk by Ball's rough vocals, which were so uneven that her numbers had to be painstakingly edited, line by line, to bring them closer to pitch. Arthur recreated her Tony-winning performance as best buddy Vera Charles, and does the best she can. The film is out on DVD, but I've been unable to find a clip of either of Bea's two numbers online, which may be just as well, as I'm sure they came off better in the theatre. So for this week's Dance Party, here's a clip from a musical Arthur never appeared in, but perhaps should have. The show is Wonderful Town, which never received a big-screen treatment, settling instead for an abridged version shown on live TV with original star Rosalind Russell. If you care about such things, you can spot future Broadway stars Jason Graae, Howard McGillan, and Debbie Shapiro (before she went Gravitte) in the dancing ensemble. Let's conga!

Lord Arthur Savile's Critics

We've completed our second full week of performances, and the major reviews are in for Lord Arthur Savile's Crime. They can only be classified as raves, with all three critics seemingly pleased that the Washington Stage Guild is back on the boards.

Actually, the Stage Guild returned to full production last fall, when they presented an evening of one-acts at Catholic University in conjunction with the International Shaw Conference (I wrote about those hilarious Shavian bits here). But I suppose our production is getting more buzz as it's a return to downtown DC for the Guild, and is being presented in a charming theatre which may become a long-term home.


Whatever. There are some stage actors out there who do not read reviews of their shows (or claim they don't), and that's all well and good, but I am not one of those. I read the reviews, always with an eye to the most important aspect: will they help put butts in seats? As for the actual critical analysis of the work, well, I confess to being more interested in what my peers think than the critics. But that does not stop me from reading every word, and caring what they say.
I remember the undeniable thrill I felt the very first time I saw my name in a printed review. It was a biggie, the L.A.Times, who said I had "real panache," playing a minor role in Jon Voight's Hamlet (left). A few years later, the same paper called me a "showstopper," for a fun original musical for kids (there's a blurry screen grab below); I was sure my career was made. I guess I'm glad critics don't actually have that kind of power, otherwise I may have done myself in, when I received this notice a few years later, from one of the trades in Los Angeles:

"R. Scott Williams acts a lot. Or something."

See how we remember such things? That critic was actually correct: I was acting a lot or something. The production, a dismal translation of Machiavelli's Mandragola (The Mandrake) deserved every nasty dart the critic threw.


There have been so many dozens of reviews since then, that it's hard to keep track, though not from lack of my trying. Which brings me back to our current notices for Lord Arthur.... The first review was posted by DC's leading online theatre site, DC Theatre Scene. The couple who runs the site are tremendous boosters of local theatre, and have been personally supportive of my work. Neither of them reviewed our show: they sent another critic, who absolutely raved about six-sevenths of our cast. Can you guess which actor she failed to mention?

Hey, I'd rather be ignored than slammed, so I'm pleased she did not mention me in the review (go here to read it), as I assume she disliked me and declined to mention it, or was so bored by my performance she forgot I was in the thing. No matter, it was a rave for the show, which is the important thing.

Our second review is undeniably considered the city's "money review." The Washington Post's leading critic, Peter Marx, attended the show last week, and responded with another rave. This review has significance for several reasons. Marx has a habit of attending the larger theatres in the area, leaving the smaller, Mom-and-Pop groups to the stringers, so it was unusual to find him in our audience. More importantly, the Post is the review which is most likely to convince audience members to attend, so we are pleased as palmists that he approved of the show. Go here to read the full piece, but it's not necessary, as I will tell you now that I was described as a "sure-footed foil."

Our third review was posted just today, and will hit the newsstands tomorrow. The Citypaper is the free weekly which likes to think of itself as the "alternative" paper (alternative to what remains open for debate). Their critics have large vocabularies and are quick to show them off, and I've been treated pretty well by them in other offerings. Their senior theatre critic, Bob Mondello, attended a very quiet performance last week, and filed a review which can also be considered a rave. He complimented six-sevenths of the cast, then compared me to an "ante-bellum plantation owner." (That suit I'm wearing in Act Two does make me look like Colonel Sanders.)

He saved his most lavish praise for our director and playwright Bill Largess, giving him well-deserved kudos for translating Oscar Wilde's novella to the stage in a stylish manner. I'm thrilled that the Citypaper review can be counted a win, even as the critic in essence wished Bill had been playing my role.

Well, he isn't, and I'm having a ball, when I'm not coughing up disgusting mucus. I snagged a righteous cold two weeks ago, and have been suffering the effects since; my poor castmates have been great sports about my annoying hack backstage.

I have hopes the cough will have diminished when we return to the stage tomorrow night. But our spirits will not, as we've been notified that we are extending our run a week. Such news reflects positive reinforcement from the producers, and I have no doubt we will have a swell time as we head into our third week of shows.