Friday Dance Party: We're Playing His Song

Lesley Gore's role as protegee to Batman's
Catwoman required a song. Hamlisch provided
"California Nights".

Everybody already knows this award-winning composer, arranger, and conductor died this week.

Marvin Hamlisch

1944-2012

Marvin's first stage gig was as accompanist/straight man
for Groucho's one-man show.

He seemed at home on the classical stage (he entered the Julliard school of music at the ripe age of 7) but made his lasting contributions in the world of pop, and of course, that monster contribution A Chorus Line. 

The night I saw A Chorus Line's original production on Broadway remains one of the most thrilling I've spent in the theatre.  A fuzzy but powerful clip from the night they swept the Tony Awards appeared on the Dance Party here.

He is one of fewer than a dozen people to win the Emmy, Grammy, Oscar, and Tony awards, and his Pulitzer Prize (for A Chorus Line) partners him with Richard Rodgers as the only two people to win that quintet. 

Marvin's first pop hit, "Sunshine, Lollipops, and
Rainbows," provided Lesley Gore a song for the
bus ride to a Ski Party.

Hamlisch had a stage charisma which most composers do not share, though he was willing to fade into the background when necessary. 

This recording has become so iconically
connected to its singer, you can't really enjoy
anyone else's version. It's one of those songs
which immediately brings to mind
the original.

He conducted high-profile concerts and tours with the likes of Johnny Mathis and Linda Ronstadt;  his friendship with Barbra Streisand dated back to her Funny Girl days, when he was the rehearsal pianist for the Broadway production.  Decades later, she trusted him to conduct and arrange her hugely successful comeback tour, which broke records all over the country.  He rescued the legacy of little-known ragtime composer Scott Joplin by adapting his music to the score of The Sting, as a result of which that long-forgotten musician landed at the top of the Billboard charts (with "The Entertainer"). 

Marvin had a big night at the Oscars in 1973.

Marvin won an Oscar in that bargain, and the same night in 1973, became a triple winner when his work on the film The Way We Were was also recognized. 

Marvin adapted "Pachelbel's Canon"
for his hauntingly lonesome score
to Ordinary People.

His film scores include Ordinary People, Sophie's Choice, Three Men And A Baby, and The Swimmer, and he provided one of the smash hits to come out of the James Bond franchise when he co-wrote "Nobody Does It Better" for The Spy Who Loved Me. 

This smash was the first James Bond theme
song which differed from the actual film's title.

His writing partner on that hit was Carole Bayer Sager, with whom he had a long personal relationship.  It is that relationship which formed the inspiration for Hamlisch's other hit Broadway musical, They're Playing Our Song.

Original stars Lucie Arnaz and Robert Klein attended the concert staging of They're Playing Our Song, starring Sutton Foster and Seth Rudetsky, in 2010. The show remains under most people's radar, though its small cast, minimal technical requirements, and accessible pop score would seem very desirable to regional musical theaters.

The show was Marvin's stage follow-up to the massive hit A Chorus Line, and concerned the ups-and-downs in the romance of a composer and lyricist. 

The score is filled with pop-sounding niceties, none very memorable but all quite presentable.  The presence onstage of "the voices," three men and three women expressing the characters' inner thoughts and acting as a Greek chorus of sorts, is the only thing keeping this little musical from being a two-person show. 

The Goodbye Girl provided another star turn for
another gent known primarily for comedy,
Martin Short. Despite Bernadette Peters in the cast,
the show had a very short life.

But the focus most assuredly is on the two leads (there are no big production numbers), and with a book by Neil Simon, the show had a lengthy run of over 1000 performances. 

A recent reunion of our stars. Marvin's pop
musical provided Robert Klein with a Tony nod, but
Lucie Arnaz was ignored for her Broadway debut.

It's original cast, seen in this week's Dance Party clip, included Robert Klein, who was primarily known at the time as a stand-up comic, and Lucie Arnaz, who was primarily known at the time as the daughter of famous people.  Klein was nominated for a Tony for this performance, Arnaz was not.  The clip, presented on the 1979 Tony Awards, is a bit blurry, but is a good reflection of the style of the show.  Before ever seeing clips of They're Playing Our Song (and I've NEVER seen a full production), I owned the Broadway Cast Album, and could swear Lucie was being dubbed by Helen Reddy, their sound is so similar. 

An attempt to turn the indie flick Smile into a musical
bombed.

Marvin Hamlisch's score, by the way, must have been catnip to various producers and recording execs at the time, as there are cast albums from the London, Australian, and Argentinian productions available as well as the original.

Hamlisch had more than a few misfires on stage, including Jean Seberg, a musical about you know who, The Goodbye Girl, an adaptation of the hit film, and The Sweet Smell of Success, which provided John Lithgow a Tony in 2002 but which failed at the box office.  At the time of his death last week, his latest project was opening in Tennessee, a musical adaptation of The Nutty Professor, directed by the original film's star, Jerry Lewis. 

The Nutty Professor, the Musical, opened last week in Tennessee.  There was a strong review from the local paper, but Marvin Hamlisch's unexpected death puts the show's professional future in some doubt.

Despite his occasional failures, Marvin knew a little something about the musical theatre.  The marquee lights on Broadway would have been dimmed for him, as they were last week, even if his only contribution had been the landmark A Chorus Line. 

Marvin's determination that "What I Did
For Love" remain in A Chorus Line
was spot on.

The show's mastermind, Michael Bennett, always maintained that the soaring melody of Marvin's "At The Ballet" was the true soul of the musical.  When all the creative powers, including Bennett, wanted to cut the 11:00 number, Hamlisch stood his ground and the song stayed in the show.  "What I Did For Love" went on to become an anthem to the sacrifices made when following one's dream.

This week's Dance Party, the title song from They're Playing Our Song, does not carry such a universal message.  It's really about the egotism of the artist, which Hamlisch also knew a little something about.

Friday Dance Party: Alive, King, and Fifty All At Once.

Actually he's 80, having become an octogenarian only yesterday.  But I would submit that, even in his advanced years, Peter O'Toole remains Actor Royalty.  His film performances are plentiful and memorable, beginning with his breakout role as Lawrence of Arabia in 1962. 

Marlon Brando and Albert Finney both turned it down, and Anthony Perkins, Montgomery Clift, and Alec Guinness were also considered, but in the end, Lawrence of Arabia went to O'Toole.

The film turned Omar Shariff into a matinee idol, but catapulted O'Toole onto the A-list. 

O'Toole's good looks prompted Noel
Coward to quip, "It should have been
Florence of Arabia."

He remained the go-to guy for historical epics and top shelf stage-to-screen adaptations, including the film from which the title of this entry is plucked, The Lion In Winter. 

The Lion in Winter is not my favorite
film, but the chemistry between
Hepburn and O'Toole makes it
worth the effort.

When Peter was nominated for the Oscar for that performance, he became the only actor to receive Best Actor Oscar nods for playing the same character in two different films (he played England's Henry II in both Becket and The Lion in Winter. Al Pacino has also received Oscar nominations for the same role in two films, namely Michael Corleone, but his nod in the first Godfather was as a supporting actor, while his performance in Godfather II was rightly classified as leading).  Speaking of those pesky Oscars, O'Toole holds another record:  the most performance Oscar nominations without winning a single competitive award (he was awarded an honorary statue in 2003).

As Henry II in Beckett.

In his middle and later years, Peter revealed a talent for lighter fare, and delivered pristine comic performances in The Stuntman, The Ruling Class, and My Favorite Year. 

Breezing in and out of The Stuntman in a
pint-sized helicopter, Peter saved the film.

When he announced his retirement last month, it was a surprise, as actors of his generation tend to simply fade out as they age.  O'Toole, though a bit frail, still seemed on top of things in recent performances in Venus and The Tudors.  Still, at age 80, perhaps he's had enough.  He certainly has lived a full and colorful life.

Troy was supposed to be the summer blockbuster of 2004, but did not live up to expectations. O'Toole as Trojan King Priam lent gravitas opposite Orlando Bloom's lightweight but pretty Paris.

This week's Dance Party comes from one of O'Toole's misfires.  In 1972, the originators of the Broadway hit Man of La Mancha were hired to film the piece, with the expectation that the show's original stars, Richard Kiley and Joan Diener, would recreate their roles.  The stage director was hired to direct the film.  He promptly botched his stars' screen tests and was fired.  The rest of the creative team went with him, and his replacement decided to dump the songs and make a non-musical film.  It was at this point that Peter O'Toole signed onto the project. 

Peter never stood a chance in La Mancha. As somebody once quipped, "If you don't have a man with the pipes to deliver 'The Impossible Dream', do No No Nanette.

The second director was soon fired as well, and Arthur Hiller took over the reins, restoring the songs but keeping his non-musical actors.  Peter O'Toole's vocals were too weak to sustain a score which included that aria "The Impossible Dream," and he was dubbed by Simon Gilbert. 

Peter's stage career included
Hamlet.

Everyone else sang their own numbers, and while James Coco as Sancho came off quite well, it's pretty difficult to get through Sophia Loren's Aldonza.  The finished film was a major flop, and has gained little respect in the intervening years.  This clip will illustrate why.  O'Toole is so heavily made-up that he looks like a marionette, and any emotion he displays is completely blanketed by the atrocious wig and facial hair.  Ah, well, at least he got a paycheck.

Friday Dance Party: Guilty As Charged

I do not care for puppets.  I must emphasize that I am not, as many people are, AFRAID of puppets.  But they are disconcerting to me;  I traced my discomfort with them here. 

My dislike for puppets began here, with the marionette boy
who was turned into a donkey. Frightening.

The most famous of the puppets of the modern era must surely be the Muppets.  While I can appreciate the creativity which went into the creation of the Muppet World, I have never been able to feel the slavish attraction to these figments that just about everybody else feels.  I'm sure it's my loss, but there it is.  Still, my unease around these creatures notwithstanding, the Muppets have appeared on the Dance Party several times. 

These are the only Muppets I can stand.

I willingly concede that the syndicated program which brought them to the attention of the adult world, a satire of the standard variety show called, appropriately, The Muppet Show, was creatively produced.  That program furnished this Dance Party starring Juliet Prowse, and this one starring Lynn Redgrave.  Considering my antipathy toward these annoying creatures, it's surprising that this week's Dance Party, once again, features the Muppets.  They return to the Dance Party because of this guy:

This is Dan Cathy, the current CEO of the fast food giant Chik Fil-A.  His father created the company, and now, Dan runs the organization.  He's been in the news this week, as I'm sure you know, because he has publicly confirmed his company's attitude toward marriage equality. 

Cathy with his father, the founder of the
company. Still family-held, they are unlikely
to change their stance until a board of directors
forces the issue,
as happened with Coors years ago.

This is old news to many of us;  it's been known for years that Chik Fil-A contributes buttloads of money to anti-gay causes.  But CEO Dan, bless him, significantly raised the profile of his company's prejudice this week, and now, everybody knows exactly where his company's profits are going.

The vast majority of the Chik Fil-A franchises are in the South;  as such, I have often lived in close proximity to one or more of them.  I have never given them my business.  If I want fast food chicken, it's KFC for me.  I was never even tempted to go into a Chik Fil-A. 

Standard ad for the company.

The company seems to have aimed its product toward Southern Crackers and Hillbillies, even basing the name of their restaurant on the assumption that their target constituency was illiterate.  Perhaps their misspelling of Chick can be deemed playful, but there is no doubt in my mind that they came up with "Fil-A" because they were sure their customers would recoil from an unusual word like "filet." Even in today's sophisticated world, their motto for years has been "Eat Mor Chiken." 

Another ad celebrating their
customers' illiteracy.

I'll pass on any corporation who, from their name to their advertising, ridicules the fact that, for decades, many southerners could not read nor write.

But back to those warhorses, The Muppets.  The Jim Henson Co. has publicly disassociated itself with Chik, while the franchise has yanked Muppet merchandise from their kids' meals, due to "safety issues."

The company's PR machine is lousy, and this feeble explanation as to why Muppet toys are no longer available at Chik Fil-A is laughable, not to mention a hypocritical slap in the face of the company's so-called Bible-based conscience.

The Henson Co has announced that all the proceeds they have received due to their unfortunate relationship with the bigoted company will be donated to GLAAD. 

The mayors of both Boston and Chicago have issued statements that Chiks are not welcome there;  in retaliation, Mike Huckabee and other right wing pols are staging a Support Chik Fil-A day next week. 

Paul Williams wrote "Rainbow Connection," and
sang it a number of times, including in an episode
of Picket Fences.

I feel perfectly comfortable with the position Dan Cathy has placed his company in, though it's said that any kind of boycott will likely harm them only slightly.  They already cater to citizens who agree with their principles regarding marriage, and boycotts don't tend to be as effective as the threats of boycotts do (I wrote about that a long while ago, and if you care to, check out that entry's comments as well, as a lively debate sprang up about "economic bullying").  Anyhoo, my admiration for the stance Jim Henson's caretakers have taken outweighs my distaste for his most famous creations, and I have a lot of respect for the Muppets these days.  So do others, of course, including the guy who edited this week's Dance Party, who also supplied the vocals.  Appropriately, the number in this clip is one of the most famous of the Muppet songs, and its message is pretty apropos.

Friday Dance Party: Holm, Sweet Holm

Celeste Holm

1917-2012

She had already played Broadway (as Mary L in The Time of Your Life, which introduced Gene Kelly to the world) when she landed the role which launched her career.  Auditioning for the new musical Oklahoma!, she sang a ditty from an operetta.  Composer Richard Rodgers was not impressed, and told her so, saying that he needed someone "with a little less polish." Celeste let out a whooping hog call ("Suuuuuuuuuuu-Eeeeeeeeeeee") and landed the role of man-hungry Ado Annie, stopping the show every night with her rendition of "I Cain't Say No."  

The original cast of Oklahoma!

The lady had polish.

Richard Rodgers was right, though, when he noted Holm's natural polish.  She portrayed all sorts of characters in a career which lasted over sixty years, and her most memorable appearances were indeed ladies with "polish." 

Holm's follow-up to Oklahoma! was
the Harold Arlen rarity, Bloomer Girl.

She earned three Oscar nods, including the role for which all theatrical junkies will best remember her, as Bette Davis's wavering best friend Karen in All About Eve (she lost to Josephine Hull from Harvey; Celeste won the award for her supporting turn in Gentlemen's Agreement).

As Margo's best friend in All About Eve, Holm gave a nuanced portrayal of a woman uneasily manipulated by Anne Baxter's Eve. In the film, her Karen caused the star to miss a performance which launched  understudy Eve's career.

Celeste and her 4th husband, Wesley Addy,
occasionally worked together, including
a stint on the soap Loving.

On the small screen, our gal was a regular on Promised Land, a spin-off of the more successful Touched By An Angel, and she spent some time on the daytime soap Loving, as grande dame Isabelle Alden.  She played the press secretary on the shortlived sitcom Nancy, regarding the daughter of the President of the United States, and she earned an Emmy nomination as Mrs. Warren G. Harding in the mini-series Backstairs At The White House. 

Celeste earned an Emmy nod
in the miniseries deemed "Upstairs/
Downstairs at the White House."

The highlight of her television career, though, was probably the role for which an entire generation knows her, as the Fairy Godmother in the remake of the Rodgers and Hammerstein musical Cinderella, starring Lesley Ann Warren. 

Rodger's and Hammerstein's TV musical Cinderella received a major remake in the mid-60s. It was my first encounter with Celeste Holm.

I was lucky enough to see Celeste Holm onstage, twice. 

Allan Bennett had an early flop
with this British sex farce. I saw it.
Celeste Holm was in it.

Frankly, I don't remember her at all in the Broadway production of Alan Bennett's sex farce Habeas Corpus (I wrote about seeing that show here), but I certainly remember her work in I Hate Hamlet (in fact, it was her presence in the show which encouraged me to see it, only a day after the show's star caused an onstage uproar.  I wrote about that here).  Sadly, this sophisticated, "polished" lady was forced into relative poverty in her later years, when she married a some-time opera singer (and some-time waiter) who was 45 years her junior. 

Celeste's marriage to her 5th husband ignited
a family brawl which bankrupted our gal.

Her sons from her various previous marriages objected, and they dragged their mother through the courts during the last years of her life.  Holm lived in relative poverty in her home on New York's Central Park West, an apartment she purchased for $10,000 decades ago but which is now valued at well over 2 million.  She was recently sued for being delinquent on her homeowner dues, and was reportedly living only on her Social Security pension when she died this week at the age of 95, estranged from her sons.

This week's Dance Party deals with the double-edged sword of wealth and privilege.  It comes from one of Celeste's movie musicals, High Society.  It's the musical version of the Philip Barry classic The Philadelphia Story, with a score by Cole Porter, and features the final film appearance (and only musical role) of Grace Kelly. 

For the musical,
Cary Grant, Katherine Hepburn, and
Jimmy Stewart were replaced by Bing,
Princess Grace, and Ol' Blue Eyes.

By the time the movie was released, Kelly had fled Hollywood for Monaco and acquired the title of princess. When compared with the breezy perfection of the original, High Society does not measure up, but viewed on its own, the musical contains a few gems (none of them involving Bing Crosby, who was too old for the role made famous by Cary Grant).  Frank Sinatra is playing the role which won James Stewart his only Oscar, and our gal Celeste is playing his confederate journalist.  There may be a bit of irony in viewing this number, which wonders who wants to be a millionaire, when our heroine was in such financial difficulty at the time of her own death. 

Friday Dance Party: A Little Brains, A Little Talent

Gwen Verdon does not star in this week's Dance Party.

Richard Adler

1921-2012

Though this guy had a very long career as a composer, lyricist, and producer, it must be confessed that he peaked pretty early, back in the 1950s.  He provided Tony Bennett with a top-selling hit ("Rags to Riches"), and years later, he did the same for Doris Day ("Everybody Loves A Lover"). 

Adler's first Broadway show was this
revue, starring Hermione Gingold and
Billy DeWolfe.

But he is surely best remembered for his Broadway career, during which he won back-to-back Tony Awards for two musicals which are still considered classics of the golden age of the musical comedy.  Those hits were the result of his collaboration with Jerry Ross, with whom he teamed to write both music and lyrics.  

Jerry Ross's untimely death in 1955 ended their collaboration, and though Adler continued working until his death last month, he never matched his earlier achievements. 

He wrote a couple of forgettable musicals for his wife at the time, Sally Ann Howes, and he produced one of Richard Rodgers' flops, Rex. 

Who thought the life of Henry VIII would make a good musical? Adler did, as he produced Rex, one of Richard Rodgers's late-career flops. The gal on the far left is Glenn Close, making her Broadway debut as the princess who would grow up to become Bloody Mary.

Monroe's Happy Birthday song to
JFK has become an historical
video documenting his infidelity.

Speaking of producing, our hero was responsible for one of the most memorable events of the Kennedy presidency, the birthday bash during which Marilyn Monroe turned the Birthday Song into a seductive siren's song. 

But let's get back to Broadway.  In the 1950s, Adler and Ross became proteges of the great Frank Loesser, so it was a natural step for the team to hit Broadway.  Their first show was a musical revue, John Murray Anderson's Almanac, which ran a full season in 1953, which was considered a respectable run for writers making their Broadway debuts. 

Almanac launched Hermione Gingold's career
in America.

Their next two shows, though, were legitimate smashes, and solidified their place in the history of American Musical Theatre.  In 1954, Adler and Ross adapted a novel about union workers into The Pajama Game, which remains one of the most revived musicals in educational and community theatre settings. 

Harry Connick, Jr.'s acclaimed performance
in this 2006 revival created expectations
which were dashed when he returned to
Broadway in On A Clear Day, which I
wrote about here.

The show is often remembered for its launching of the career of Shirley Maclaine, who was understudy to supporting player Carol Haney when Haney broke her foot. 

Carol Haney in the role in The Pajama Game which Shirley Maclaine covered.

Maclaine went on in her place and, as legend has it, was discovered by a Hollywood producer who turned her into a movie star. 

Shirley Maclaine

The story is true, but is often a bit misunderstood;  theatrical lore has it that Maclaine had incredible good luck to be viewed by Hal Wallis, the producer from Paramount in question, during the one performance she gave as understudy.  In fact, Carol Haney was out of The Pajama Game for several months, and Shirley performed the role of Gladys during that entire period, not, as is supposed, for a single show.   Haney won the Tony for her performance, but Maclaine got the Hollywood career.

Only a year after The Pajama Game opened (it was still running to full houses), Adler and Ross delivered their second smash, Damn Yankees.  This show elevated dancer Gwen Verdon to star status;  she won the Tony, as did her co-star Ray Walston. 

Gwen Verdon initially turned down the
role of Lola in Damn Yankees. She changed
her mind and landed on the cover of Time.

Though solidly constructed, I would not call this show a masterpiece by any means.  In fact, the show was so tailored to the talents of Verdon that one of her dance numbers (which graced the Dance Party here) is sometimes cut from the show these days, rightfully so.  Not everybody can dance like Verdon.  But Damn Yankees remains a particular favorite of mine, as Walston's role, the Devil, is a dream role of mine.  I played it in Glendale, CA in 1992 (and would kill to play it again before I have to play it in a wheelchair.  I pompously offered this clip from that production as a Dance Party on my birthday a few years ago). 

Jerry Lewis made a belated Broadway
debut replacing Victor Garber in the
1994 revival of Damn Yankees. His
presence extended the run, but his antics
became legendary. He often halted the
show to drop character
and present a stand-up routine.

Both Pajama Game and Damn Yankees have had several Broadway revivals, and this week's Dance Party comes from one.  Musicals from this period usually featured a supporting female character which was primarily a dance role.  Carol Haney's role in Pajama Game was such a role, as is the role featured in this week's clip.  Though Damn Yankees hardly needed another dance role, since Gwen Verdon's Lola did more than her share of hoofing, the writers added one anyway, that of female sports reporter Gloria Thorpe.  In the 1994 revival, the role was played by Vickie Lewis, who co-starred on the sitcom NewsRadio before turning to the Broadway stage.  Here she shows off strong musical comedy chops, in her big number which was broadcast on the Tony Awards that year.

Richard Adler and Jerry Ross were on their way to becoming a substantial composing team when Ross suddenly died in 1955. Because their output was halted, they are not always as admired as other musical writers of the period such as Lerner and Loewe, Sheldon and Harnick, and the very young Stephen Sondheim, all of whom created a full canon of musical theatre gems.  But I submit that the back-to-back successes of Pajama Game and Damn Yankees place Adler and Ross in the pantheon of great
composers of the American musical theatre.