Friday Dance Party: Bad Day For Miss French

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

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

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

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

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

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'

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: