Friday Dance Party: You and Me

I haven't had much time to update these pages, as the holidays have overtaken my time. But the Friday Dance Party survives! This week's star has appeared in several of the clips I share here, but this one has some poignance, as it was directed by her husband, one of the bright stars of American comedic film.

Blake Edwards

1922-2010

He was one of Hollywood's leading depressives, and had a lengthy career of success and failure. He spent a bit of time as a contract actor for Fox before recognizing that his true calling was behind the camera. His casting of Peter Sellers (with whom he did not get along) as the bumbling Inspector Clouseau was inspired, and led to the creation of one of the most recognizable film franchises in history, The Pink Panther. His creative partnership with composer Henri Mancini began with the 50s detective series Peter Gunn, and lasted 30 years (all four of Mancini's Oscars came from Edwards's films). In addition to the farcical Panthers, Edwards turned a Truman Capote novella, about a New York prostitute, into Breakfast at Tiffany's, a sparkling confection palatable to middle America of the early 60s. His direction of the dark tale of an alcoholic marriage, Days of Wine and Roses, proved he was adept with dramas as well (it was that film's star, Jack Lemmon, who suggested Blake would be able to inject a bit of humor into the morose story). The Great Race, an all-star homage to westerns, adventures, and slap-stick silent comedies, was not a big success, but is admired today as an expert blending of those various genres.

By 1970, Edwards's cost overruns and difficult relations with studio bosses put his career in decline. His espionage musical Darling Lili, a particularly bloated example of mismanagement (anyone who puts Rock Hudson in a musical is asking for trouble), introduced him to Julie Andrews; their 41 year marriage (the second for both) was one of the most enduring matches in Hollywood. Edwards lived abroad in a self-imposed exile for a while during the 70s, but had a surprise hit at the end of the decade with 10, which provided Dudley Moore with a tour de force, and turned the phenomenally untalented Bo Derek into an international sex symbol.

On the strength of 10's box office success, Edwards made what many consider his most personal film, S.O.B., a scathing dark comedy about the movie business. His last major success was a remake of a German film from the 30s, Victor und Viktoria. He received his first Oscar nomination for the screenplay for Victor/Victoria, and provided nods to Andrews, Robert Preston, and Leslie Ann Warren as well (Blake knew how to guide actors on film: Audrey Hepburn, Jack Lemmon, and Lee Remick were other actors who received Oscar nominations under his direction). It is from his best musical film that this week's Dance Party springs (if you are interested, Warren's solo from V/V appeared on the Dance Party here). Edwards later turned the movie into a stage musical, again starring his wife, which had a Broadway run of about two years (it was that lengthy return to the stage which caused the vocal trouble which led Andrews to the throat surgeon who robbed the world of her golden soprano). We don't hear any of her upper notes in this clip, in which Julie, impersonating a man, performs in a French bistro with the scene-stealing Robert Preston. Julie's co-star played the fop quite well, though apparently, his dancing skills were questionable: Edwards shot the soft-shoe portion of this number so that Preston's feet would be hidden from view.   Blake Edwards was awarded a Lifetime Achievement Oscar in 2004. He died this week from pneumonia, with his wife and family at his side.

Friday Dance Party: The Week in Infamy

Personally, I'm having a terrific week. My annual trip to Los Angeles, which kicks off the holiday season for me, has been great fun. The teaching I do for my good friend Judy, for her high school students, fills the day with creative energy, and there is always some social time with Jude and others afterwards. There is a lovely weekend upcoming to end my trip, with tree trimming and other ho-ho-ho-ing.

But the world is not having such a great week. We've had the sad news that the Queen of Soul, Aretha Franklin, is battling cancer, and on Tuesday (the anniversary of the attacks on Pearl Harbor, talk about a bad week!), the world was saddened that this iron butterfly lost her battle with cancer:

Elizabeth Edwards

1949-2010

She called herself the "anti-Barbie," and among those beleaguered women who suffer philandering husbands in the political arena, she was my favorite. She was a Navy brat, spending much of her childhood in Japan, and was particularly unsettled when her family moved during her senior year of high school (I know EXACTLY what that feels like). She was four years older and infinitely smarter than her husband, and had a thriving legal career before the death of their teen-aged son caused her to refocus her energies. Interestingly, until Wade Edwards drove off the side of the road at the age of 18, Elizabeth kept her maiden name professionally; after Wade's death, she adopted the Edwards surname, she said, in order to have her son's name, not because it was her husband's.

Mrs. Edwards's bravery during her lengthy battle with breast cancer, with her insistence that her life, and that of her family, continue as normally as possible, is exactly the attitude my mother had while she was fighting the same fight. Elizabeth became an advocate for universal health care, and maintained a spectacular dignity as her marriage disintegrated in a nasty, public way. (When her husband's infidelity was finally revealed to the public, I reacted with a snarky attack on his lack of character, it's a pretty fun read.) I have a friend who has the impression that Mrs. Edwards used her cancer, and her husband's political scandals, to remain in the public eye; I believe that could not be further from the truth. She maintained a genteel silence when rumors first surfaced about her husband, and when the truth came out, she reacted with a natural anger which I found refreshing. She and her husband legally separated earlier this year, when he finally acknowledged having sired a bastard daughter with his mistress. And Elizabeth's two books, one regarding the loss of her father and son, and the other with her cancer, have no doubt helped countless others deal with similar tragedies.

On Tuesday, the day after the Edwards family announced that their matriarch had ceased cancer treatment, Elizabeth died.

This week in infamy is also remembered as the 30th anniversary of the assassination of John Lennon. TV and radio stations have devoted a lot of airtime to remembering this sorry day, with good reason. I was never a slavish devotee of Lennon or The Beatles (though I am probably the only person you know who saw them in concert, an experience I mentioned in a previous Dance Party), but John Lennon penned some of the most beautiful ballads of the 60s and 70s. One in particular seems an appropriate choice for this infamous week. Here it's sung by the great Bette Midler, who included the number in her film For the Boys in 1991. It has since become part of her regular repertoire. The scene is a Christmas USO-type visit to Vietnam. It has a poignant tone, but that's ok by me. In honor of Mrs. Edwards and Aretha, and John Lennon and Pearl Harbor, here is this week's Dance Party:

Friday Dance Party: We're Despicable

For some personal reasons, today marks the beginning of the Christmas season for me. I'm heading into weeks full of holiday fun, and in honor of that fun, I am presenting the first Dance Party to be repeated. Yes, after 2 years and more than a hundred Dance Parties, I am presenting a rerun. This clip deserves to be seen again, as it represents a great Broadway showstopper, though it was never presented there. I wrote a bit about this clip when it first ran two years ago, go here to read my thoughts.

For this week's Dance Party, as I embark on my annual Christmas Celebrations, I wish you plenty of razzleberry dressing.

Proud Of My Profession

It seems theatres in both DC and NY are feeling the spirit of giving this holiday season. That's not always the case, so it's nice to see.

Theatres in the District usually do their best to accommodate schedule conflicts with each other. Usually. If a stage actor is having a particularly buoyant period in his career here, he is likely to have gigs lined up back-to-back. (I don't include myself in that group: my career is rarely buoyant; like the S.S. Poseidon, I am more likely in need of extra ballast. But that's not what this entry is about.) It is not unusual for an actor's gigs to overlap a bit. The last week or so of his current performances may very well overlap with the first week or so of rehearsals for his next gig. Theatres in the area, particularly the small and mid-level ones, do their best to accommodate such conflicts. There is nothing more frustrating for an actor than finding that he must decline 6-8 weeks of employment due to a possible 1-2 week extension of a show which has yet to open. (I'm sad to report that that instance has happened more than once around here, but again, that's not what this entry is about).

Much more frequently, theatres in the region try to work these schedule glitches out, in order to keep the talent they want. Several years ago, I encountered such a glitch. In fact, the actual runs of the two shows in question coincided, but it took only a little maneuvering to keep me in both productions. I was in the Spring Company of Shear Madness at the Kennedy Center, a gig I have done more than once and very much enjoy. Shear is extremely popular with the tourist trade, and during the spring months, demand for tickets is so great that the producers hire a full second company to handle the overflow. The Second Company generally works four days a week (Mon-Thurs), with the curtain going up at 5 PM and coming down at 7. The Madness folks consider this a part-time gig, as indeed it is, so they are prepared to work around the schedules of the actors involved, as much as possible.

In this instance, I was also contracted to appear in Opus at the Washington Stage Guild, in performances which ran simultaneously with Shear. Luckily, Opus ran Thursday - Sunday, so the only problem spot was Thursday. I commend both theatre companies for doing their best for me, so I could do both shows. The folks at Shear even went so far as to offer to have a taxi waiting for me at the front of the Kennedy Center, ready to whisk me to the Stage Guild downtown (it turned out it was quicker for me to just leap into my own car and drive like a maniac). So, on Thursdays, I would finish the Madness a few minutes before 7:00, dash downstairs to the garage (I received special dispensation from Shear to leave the theatre in costume on Thursdays, so I would not waste time changing clothes), and head across town to the 7:30 performance of Opus. I was never late for the curtain, and the gang at the Stage Guild yielded the union requirement that I arrive at the theatre half an hour before the curtain went up. Thanks to both Shear Madness and the Washington Stage Guild, I was able to do both shows.

This memory popped into my head recently as I heard about other concessionary tales of late. When Arena Stage's Oklahoma lost their leading lady only a few days before opening night, they turned to local dynamo Eleasha Gamble to step in. Eleasha was due to begin rehearsals at Fords Theatre for their perennial A Christmas Carol, but the Powers at Fords generously released their award-winning actress from her commitment (Eleasha won the Helen Hayes award for her performance in Fords's The Civil War, below) so she could head west in that surrey with the fringe on top.

Oklahoma was already generating national attention, as it was the premiere production in the newly renovated Arena, and this last-minute swap added to the excitement. The reviews have been stellar, New York producers have been down to determine if a Broadway transfer is possible, and our local gal Gamble has offered even more proof that the DC talent pool stands up to national scrutiny. (This is not the first time Arena Stage, or other DC theatres for that matter, has hired a New York actor, only to have to scramble to replace that actor when she bales. The DC replacement shines, pointedly proving that local theatres, even the big ones, should be casting local talent in the first place. Oops, this is not what this entry is about, either...)

I may have, in journalistic parlance, "buried the lead" here, as the following story was the inspiration for this blog entry. Did you hear about it? Sara Jean Ford, who is currently playing the female lead in Broadway's Phantom of the Opera, was spending the day at jury duty when she got the phone call which ignited more excitement than sitting in the holding box. The call was from her manager, who reported that over at Broadway's A Little Night Music, they were having a very bad day.

The actresses playing Anne (the ingenue) and Petra (the maid) were both out ill, and the female swing had taken a personal day off. Someone thought of tracking down Ford to see if she could help. Ford had been in A Little Night Music over the summer, playing one of those nosey quintet of singers who comment on the action and who, at least in this production, understudy the stars. Ford had understudied the role of Petra, but had never gone on.

Here's the part of the story which warms my heart, and makes me glad to be spending my life in the theatre, around people like this. Sara Jean was willing to help, but of course, she was expected onstage in Phantom that night. The management at Phantom, in a pretty swell spirit of Good Samaritanism, released Ford and allowed her standby to go on in her place (this is not all that alarming, as the women who play Christine in Phantom only do 6 shows a week, with their standby performing the other 2. We really should call her the alternate, rather than the standby. Ford's replacement was already doing performance duty in the role.) Nevertheless, the folks at Phantom had every right in the world to expect their star to perform as scheduled. Instead, they extended a helping hand to their competitors down the street.

Ford had to finish her jury duty commitment, so she had less than two hours to dash over to Night Music, run through a few little bits, and hit the stage as Petra. That role is one of the smaller ones in the show, but sings "The Miller's Son" near the end of act two, a number which is well-known and is always highly anticipated. You might call it the 11:00 number, if that pesky "Send in the Clowns" thing weren't there.

And in an instance like this, when the replacement went on without warning, Ford was of course expected to sing the song in the standard key (if you've ever heard "The Miller's Son," you know it is octaves lower than anything the soprano Christine sings in Phantom. This gal must have some pipes!)

The performance went off without a hitch, and in fact, Sara Jean played in Night Music the following day as well (which was a two-show Wednesday). Her alternate continued playing Christine down the street. The more I think about the generosity of spirit which this situation reveals, the more tingly I get. Here was Ford, playing the leading role in Broadway's longest running show, feeling a sense of altruism toward a former employer, and helping them out by playing three performances of a much smaller role. (And the fact that she had no rehearsal before leaping into the fray? That's the Actors' Nightmare.)

So, kudos all around, to Sara Jean Ford, to the Powers at Phantom and at Night Music, to everybody involved in making this switcheroo work so both shows could go on. It makes me proud to be in the theatre.

Nice Beaver

Leslie Nielsen

1926-2010

Roger Ebert called him the "Olivier of spoofs," and there isn't anyone out there who would disagree. Check out the internet today; it seems everybody has a favorite line from one of his parody films, uttered with complete sincerity in Nielsen's signature deadpan.

He escaped an abusive childhood in Canada by joining the WWII effort, though he was too young to be deployed. After studying at the Lorne Greene Academy of Radio Arts in Toronto (yes, there is such a place), he headed to New York on a scholarship at The Neighborhood Playhouse. He worked in summer stock and debuted on Broadway in 1952's Seagulls Over Sorrento, but it was on screen that he began to be well-known. He was a regular on the live episodics of 50s television, and had over 50 such credits in one year alone. He was a natural leading man type, with strong good looks and a height over 6 feet. His film debut was in the regrettable The Vagabond King (Leslie later nicknamed it "The Vagabond Turkey"), but the performance lead to a contract with MGM, and a starring role in the sci fi classic Forbidden Planet. He played opposite Debbie Reynolds in Tammy and the Bachelor, which proved he was a viable leading man for both action films and romances. But after several years on contract (and after losing the role of Messala in Ben Hur to Stephen Boyd), he became a free agent. His leading performance in the Disney miniseries The Swamp Fox is still well-regarded, and throughout the 60s and 70s, he appeared regularly on the dramatic series of the day.


He did not have much luck headlining his own series; during the decade of the 60s, he starred in 3 programs which were not hits. One of those, Bracken's World, is one of my guilty favorites (I wrote about it when its costar Peter Haskell died). Nielsen joined the show in its second season, in an effort to stall sliding ratings, but he was unable to save the program and appeared in only 13 episodes before it was cancelled. Shortly afterward, he appeared in the potboiler The Poseidon Adventure, playing the captain who is bullied into sailing a cruise ship without enough ballast. The logical thing happened of course: a wave flipped the boat upside down, and a new film genre was born: the all-star disaster flick.


Nielsen's career took the turn for which we are all eternally grateful in 1980, when he was one of a group of serious actors cast in Airplane!. This parody film is included in the AFI Top Ten Comedies of all time, and Leslie's "Don't call me Shirley"is one of the top 100 movie quotes, again as chosen by the American Film Institute. Airplane! was featured on the Dance Party a while back, and I wrote a bit about the film at that time, go here if you are interested.

The success of Airplane! lead its creators to chose Nielsen to play the lead in their TV series Police Squad in 1982. The show was (and still is) a scream, but required the audience to pay attention to get all the humor. ABC shifted the series around a couple of times before cancelling it after only 6 episodes were produced. (In each of those episodes, the earnest narrator intones the name of tonight's "Special Guest Star." Immediately following, that guest star would be gruesomely murdered and vanish from the episode.) The critics loved Police Squad, and the creators of The Simpsons are sure it would have been a smash had it been produced 20 years later. As it was, though Nielsen received an Emmy nomination for his performance (he lost the award to Alan Alda in MASH), the show was considered one of the big flops of the year.

But Police Squad provided Leslie with a new career as a film farceur. His parody film credits include three Naked Gun movies, which were in fact continuations of his TV series, as well as spoofs of The Exorcist, 2001, Dracula, and The Fugitive. He played President Harris in Scary Movie 3 and 4, and Scary Movie 5, with Nielsen again reprising his role, awaits release. He even wrote a parody autobiography, "The Naked Truth," portraying himself as an Oscar winning actor who had slept with Elizabeth Taylor. He is also known for a series of comic instructional videos called the "Bad Golf" series.

Leslie Nielsen suffered hearing loss at an early age, and was legally deaf throughout his career; he depended on hearing aids, and was an activist for the Better Hearing Institute. In recent years, he returned to the stage, touring the country in a one-man show about Clarence Darrow. He died over the weekend from pneumonia at the age of 84.

Friday Dance Party: Turkey Lurkey Leftover

Had enough turkey for one weekend? I don't think so. To kick off the holiday season on the Friday Dance Party, let's take a look at an interesting clip from the 1969 Tony Awards. It is the clip which represented a show which, though very much a traditionally structured book musical, provided some interesting firsts and innovations. Promises, Promises was the musicalization of the hit Billy Wilder film from 1960, The Apartment. Neil Simon provided the book, and the score marked the Broadway debut of one of the most successful composing teams in recording history, Burt Bacharach and Hal David. The duo brought a pop sensibility to Broadway, and were the first to enhance the onstage voices with back-up singers in the pit. One of Bacharach and David's favorite singers, Dionne Warwick, recorded the title tune and "I'll Never Fall in Love Again," both of which became pop hits (Bobbie Gentry's version of the latter song hit #1 in Britain). Star Jerry Orbach won the Tony for his leading performance, and the show had a very healthy run of over three years.

The recent revival, starring Sean Hayes and Kristin Chenoweth, received mixed reviews but has maintained strong crowds due to its star power; the show will be closing at the first of the year when the stars complete their contracts.

As for the show itself, well, the supporting role of Marge is clearly the part to have: Marian Mercer won the Tony for her performance in the original, as did Katie Finneran in the revival.

I saw a summer stock production of the show many decades ago, starring Donald O'Connor, who was a bit long in the tooth for it even then; that production was swiped by a comic actor named Bill McCutcheon playing the doctor who lives next door. I do not remember the number presented below. This clip represents what I think is the major reason Promises, Promises should be admired today. The choreographer was the great Michael Bennett, who was just stepping up the gas on his career, and the three leading dancers here went on to substantial careers. Of course, you recognize Donna McKecknie, who at this time was becoming the perfect instrument for Bennett's choreography; she would go on to create another star-dance turn in Company, and of course, win the Tony for the original A Chorus Line. Speaking of that ground-breaker, another of its original stars is in this clip as well. Baayork Lee (playing Miss Wong in this clip) created the role of Connie in A Chorus Line, and in fact has made a career of recreating Bennett's choreography. The third dancer in this clip is Margo Sappington, whose background and subsequent career was in ballet, though her biggest claim to fame at the time was her involvement (as choreographer and co-star) with the nudie revue Oh, Calcutta!; she has since become a respected choreographer on international ballet stages.

The song is called "Turkey Lurkey Time," and if you can figure out a meaning to it, be my guest. The story goes that the authors were having some trouble bringing Act One to a close, and turned to Bennett to jazz things up. Neil Simon reports that the number Bennett created "didn't just solve the problem, it was a sensation." It takes place at the office Christmas party, and incorporates many of the moves seen in the dance clubs of the day. It's said that the gyrational aspect of the steps kept the chorus at the chiropractors throughout the run. (The current revival does not end Act One with "Turkey Lurkey Time"; instead, another Bacharach and David song,"'A House is Not a Home," was interpolated to give Chenoweth the closing number.) For this day of turkey leftovers, enjoy this week's Dance Party. I worked 15 years in an office, and our Christmas parties were just like this: