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.

NAN MARTIN

1927-2010

Another one of my favorite character actresses who spent her career "in support," Martin had a lengthy stage and screen career, which continued even after her stroke in 1981. She showed an independent spirit in her early years, when she was elected the first female student body president at Santa Monica High. Her first big splash came with her Tony nominated performance in Archibald MacLeish's J.B. in 1960, a ground-breaking production which also starred Christopher Plummer and Raymond Massey. Her New York stage career thrived in the early 60s; under Joe Papp's direction, she played Portia opposite George C. Scott's Shylock, and Gertrude opposite Julie Harris's Ophelia. She spent much of the next year in London, where she again starred with Scott in Three Sisters, in a prestigious production whose cast included Sandy Dennis and Kim Stanley.

Around this time, she was appointed by President Kennedy as theatre chairwoman of the new Arts Advisory Committee at the State Department, a position which took her across the globe.

Nan Martin had ongoing professional relationships with Edward Albee (Three Tall Women), Tennessee Williams (Eccentricities of a Nightingale), and Horton Foote (Dividing the Estate), and was a major player on regional theatre stages (here in DC, she won the 1990 Helen Hayes Award for her performance in Road to Mecca, opposite Kathy Bates). I saw her in one of her many performances at South Coast Rep in La Jolla, CA. SCR is a major regional theatre close enough to Los Angeles that one could drive out to see the show and return home the same day. I learned after the performance that I almost saw Martin's understudy. She had snagged a TV gig which kept her in Hollywood until rush hour, making it impossible for her to get out to La Jolla in time to make her 8 PM curtain. Here's the mark of a true stage trooper: instead of forcing her understudy to go on, Nan hired a helicopter at her own expense to fly her from the studio to the theatre in order to make her evening show.

Martin's film career included various movies co-starring Dean Martin, Sidney Poitier, and Ali MacGraw, and horror fans will recognize her from the third installment of the Nightmare on Elm Street franchise, in which she played Freddy Krueger's mother. She taught acting at Will Geer's Theatrical Botanicum in the Topanga canyon of Los Angeles, and directed several shorts for the AFI Program for Women Directors.
Most folks, though, will recognize her from her television appearances. Early on, she guested on such landmarks as Twilight Zone, The Defenders, and The Fugitive, and later, she became a go-to gal on various sitcoms. She played a recurring role on The Drew Carey Show, playing his boss Mrs. Louder:

She appeared a couple of times on The Golden Girls, including the hilarious "It's a Miserable Life," in which her performance as a cranky neighbor sparked a visit to a funeral home for our gals. Below, please enjoy a brief clip of the episode:

Nan Martin died last week at the age of 82.

Friday Dance Party: Undulating Undies and the Organdy Snood

The star of this week's Dance Party does not appear in it, and disavowed any connection with it during his lifetime.

Theodor Geisel began writing under the pen name "Dr. Suess" during his college days, after he was busted for drinking bootleg gin during Prohibition. He could not bear to give up his humor writing for The Dartmouth Jack o'Lantern, and began submitting his pieces under the pseudonym by which he would later become world famous. He studied for a while at Oxford, but returned to the states in the years leading up to WWII. He wrote for leftist political magazines, skewering the nation's isolationist tendencies, and fully supported FDR during the war. He wrote compellingly about racism against Jews and blacks during the period, but conversely, approved of the internment of Japanese-Americans. This blot on his moral character was partially rectified with his 1954 publication of Horton Hears a Who, which he used as an allegory about the American occupation of post-war Japan.

Though he was already finding success as a children's author, it was an article in Life magazine in 1954 which set him onto the path to his signature style. The article blamed the alarming illiteracy rate among children on the books they were forced to read; a text-book editor buddy of Geisel's compiled a list of 348 words he felt first-graders needed to recognize in print. He delivered the list to our hero, asked him to cut the list to 250 and write a children's book using those words. "Bring back a book they can't put down," William Ellsworth Spaulding goaded. Less than a year later, using 236 of the words given him, Dr. Suess delivered The Cat in the Hat, which became an international success and solidified Geisel's rhyming and rhythmic style ( anapestic tetrameter, look it up).



Geisel claimed he never set out to teach a moral, as kids can see such things coming a mile away, but his works hold subtle allegorical messages. Yertle the Turtle is about anti-fascism, The Sneetches is about racial equality, and of course, How the Grinch Stole Christmas concerns materialism. He meant Horton Hears a Who to address political isolationism, but after his death, a particular phrase from the book has been appropriated by the pro-life movement in the debate against female reproductive rights:

"A person's a person, no matter how small."

Geisel's widow continues to be vehemently opposed to the use of the phrase in the abortion debate.

What does all this have to do with the Friday Dance Party? Not much. Today's clip comes from the only live-action feature film with which Dr. Suess was personally involved (the later screen adaptations of How the Grinch Stole Christmas and The Cat in the Hat were authorized by his widow after his death). The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T was released in 1953 with story, screenplay, and lyrics by Theodor Geisel. By then, he had disavowed the project, calling it a "debaculous fiasco." At the Hollywood premiere, people were deserting the theatre by the 15 minute mark, and the film was a financial disappointment. Starring oddball Hans Conreid as the title character, it is a fantasy film in which a young boy who hates his piano teacher falls asleep and dreams of being kidnapped by the evil Dr. Terwilliker.

I have tried to get through this movie, and cannot, but others I trust love it. It's a cult film these days, and most if not all the musical numbers are available to view online. It's hard to believe this thing was aimed at kids, as a few of the numbers are quite harsh, including one in which 500 little boys are enslaved in the evil Dr. T's dungeon, and forced to play a huge piano:



(Geisel reported that during the filming of the scene, one of the boys vomited, starting a chain reaction. Soon, they had 150 boys throwing up all over the set; Geisel said it was similar to the film's critical reaction). There is another song taking place during a sinister elevator ride, down into the depths of Dr. T's lair, with a shirtless elevator operator completely masked (that sequence was so disturbing, it was removed from the film in 1958, when it was re-released under the title Crazy Music).




The clip below is a fun solo for Hans Conreid, and illustrates the way with words we came to expect from Dr. Suess. Gotta love this guy's boudoir, and the fancy boys who help him get ready for Do-Mi-Do Day, whatever that is. Dr. T has a fondness for those colorful shifts he wears over regular clothes, the film is full of them. It's not every man who can wear something like that, though wouldn't they look great on Auntie Mame?


Theodor Suess Geisel had a birthday this week, on March 2nd.