Friday Dance Party: When Glue Was Pasted Instead of Sniffed

This week's Dance Party began its life on the Broadway stage, as a comic number in the second act of I Love My Wife. Never heard of it? You're not alone. The show was a Cy Coleman charmer which was most definitely tied to its time period, the 1970s. In fact, it is so tied to that sexually provocative era that, for about 30 years or more, you would be hard pressed to find a production of it anywhere. Though the show may seem a natural for reviving, as it has a peppy score and a very small cast for a musical (four principles and a four-man band, which appears onstage and interacts with the stars), the subject matter (wife-swapping) went out of style with the conservative Reagans and the emergence of the AIDS epidemic.

The show is seeing a bit of a renaissance lately, as we are now far enough away from the swinging 70s to treat the show as a period piece. I enjoyed the show very much when I saw its original production (I wrote about that here), and am glad to see it start to pop up again here and there.

The show came to my mind when I ran across this clip. It's from a variety special of the period, and is being delivered by the great Bea Arthur, and the not-so-great Rock Hudson. Rock was certainly never known as a musical talent, though his celebrity lead him to be cast as the lead in the National Tour of On the Twentieth Century. His vocal prowess was limited, to say the least, and in fact, the producers cut the big 11:00 number from that show ("The Legacy," preserved brilliantly by original star John Collum on the Broadway Cast Album); Hudson simply could not sing it.

Here, he acquits himself fine, with the strength of Bea Arthur to shore him up. The number is rarely heard today, for obvious reasons: we don't consider recreational drug use to be particularly charming anymore. Both our stars have left us, of course (I wrote about Bea Arthur's death here), with Hudson's death being particularly infamous. He was really the first big star to die of AIDS, which, in his final days, he acknowledged he had contracted. But I am not one who believes Rock to be courageous, as he continued to insist he had contracted the disease through a blood transfusion. Well, maybe he did, but it's doubtful, as we now know all about his promiscuous lifestyle. He would truly have been a hero if he had, during those last months of his life, acknowledged his homosexuality to the public. He died 25 years ago this week.

A Modest Beginning

These pages have been woefully silent in the past couple of weeks, with the exception of the weekly Dance Party. I am very far behind on the obits and tributes which I enjoy researching and sharing, and lots of important people, famous and semi-, have recently croaked. Fear not, I will, one day, catch up.

But that day will surely be several weeks from now. Tomorrow, I launch into my latest project, an independent film called A Modest Suggestion. I wrote about the audition process six weeks ago, and we begin three days of rehearsal tomorrow. On a film, it's a luxury to have so many days devoted to rehearsal, but we shall need it, as the movie largely consists of dialogue between four corporate guys and the two gents they...um...well... kidnap. The shooting script is 100 pages long, and about 97 of those pages are dialogue. That's a LOT of talking for a movie.

So I've spent many hours of the past week trying to get some of this dialogue into the brain cells. I've found this script extremely difficult to learn cold; without having read the text aloud with the other actors, frankly, I'd rather learn monologues. This film has a very ensemble feel to it, with the four leads conversing, interrupting, repeating, arguing, and everything else with each other, making the study of it alone very tough. (Which, in my usual roundabout way, explains why I have not been updating these pages much lately.)

It will be an intense, but I hope fun, experience, with the entire shoot taking only 10 days. I have a hunch my off-hours will be spent with my head buried in my script, trying to commit to memory the next day's pages, but if there is any free time, I'll be keeping the world up-to-date on our progress. Stay tuned!

Friday Dance Party: Yonduh Lies the Castle of my Fodduh

Tony Curtis

1925-2010

By now everybody has heard of the death of this former matinee idol and Hollywood icon. He came a long way from his humble beginnings as the son of Hungarian immigrants; he served in the US Navy, and was proud to be present in Tokyo Bay on 9/2/45, witnessing the Japanese surrender and the official end of WWII. Back in New York after the war, he took acting classes at The New School, where he was spotted by talent scout Joyce Selznick and whisked to Hollywood. Curtis always believed he was chosen because he was the best looking man in the school, and with Walter Matthau and Rod Steiger as his classmates, he probably was.

He underwent one of the more famous Hollywood Name Changes of the era (his given name was Bernard Schwartz), and began his career with a series of lower budgeted films. During the early and mid-50s, his forgettable movies included I Was a Shoplifter, No Room for the Groom, The Son of Ali Baba, and the first film in the Francis the Talking Mule franchise. During this period, he struggled to lose his Bronx accent; his performance in the medieval potboiler The Prince Who Was a Thief has become film legend. In one aurally challenging moment in the film, Curtis turns to costar Piper Laurie and proclaims, "Yonduh lies the castle of my fodduh."


In 1957, The Sweet Smell of Success proved Tony could transcend his matinee idol status and deliver a sharp performance. The film ushered in a fertile period in his career, during which he became an A-list star. In 1958, he was shackled to Sidney Poitier in The Defiant Ones and won his only Oscar nomination. He provided smouldering good looks to the all-star epic Sparticus, though his most infamous scene was removed from the final cut of the film, to be restored decades later. Director Stanley Kubrick filmed a bath scene with Laurence Olivier, playing a rich Roman patrician, and Curtis, playing a slave; it's said that, while filming, Olivier and Kubrick kept Curtis in the dark about the implied homoeroticism, fearing he would refuse to play the scene. The seductive segment did not survive the studio sensibilities of 1965. When the scene was restored to the film in 1991, the dialogue had to be re-dubbed; Tony provided his own voice to the restoration, but Olivier had already died, so his voice was imitated by Anthony Hopkins.

Curtis's film career waned in the late 60s, though he continued to make numerous appearances on television and talk shows. He provided his own voice for the Flintstones character which parodied his persona, Stony Curtis, decades before it became fashionable for stars to voice cartoon characters. He won an Emmy nomination for his performance in The Scarlett O'Hara Wars in 1980, but never won a competitive acting award.

Tony Curtis's most famous, influential performance was in Some Like It Hot, which leads, in a very circuitous way, to this week's Dance Party. The 1959 film is considered a classic, with the American Film Institute placing it at #1 on its list of the top 100 film comedies. There is no better proof that nothing is funnier than a man in a dress.

Some Like It Hot was turned into a stage musical in 1972, with a score by the Funny Girl team, Jule Styne and Bob Merrill. Sugar was only a moderate success, as it was an old-fashioned musical trying to find a place in the new Sondheim world. It took 20 years for the show to be performed in London, when the piece was reworked a bit and took on the name of its source material, Some Like It Hot. Ten years later, in 2002, a national tour was organized, with the intention of landing on Broadway. The producers again gained access to the original's title (it is thought that one of the reasons Sugar was not an initial hit was the fact that the public could not tell from the title that it was the musical version of Some Like It Hot). In what must have seemed like a casting coup, the producers persuaded Tony Curtis, at age 77, to make his musical stage debut in the piece.

This time out, Curtis was playing Osgood, the older millionaire played by Joe E. Brown in the film, and by Cyril Ritchard in the original Sugar.

I saw this tour when it came through Baltimore and can verify that putting Tony Curtis onstage in a singing role was the worst idea since Teri Hatcher toured in Cabaret. The two leading men were charming and energetic and delivered the bouncy score with panache, but any time Curtis stepped onstage, the train ran off the tracks. He was badly out of his depth with the two comedy numbers which his role required, and in addition, the producers had added a ballad for him in order to beef up his part. Tony Curtis wobbling his way through "I Fall In Love Too Easily" is an experience I would not wish to repeat.

This tour never did make it to New York, so Sugar and/or Some Like It Hot has never seen a Broadway revival. I have been a fan of the show since I saw the Los Angeles production in the mid-70s. Original star Robert Morse was teamed with Larry Kert, and they were playing the heck out of the two cross-dressing leading men. The role which Curtis later massacred on tour was being played by The Lucy Show's Gale Gordon (and being played damn well). In the clip below, Morse and his original co-star, Tony Roberts, reteam to deliver what was originally a huge showstopper in Sugar, the first moment when we see our heroes in drag. Sadly, this clip was taken from one of those PBS concerts which are produced for the express purpose of being interrupted by pledge breaks. It's from "Broadway's Favorite Leading Ladies," and it was someone's bright idea to open this concert with two men in drag. I wish I could have found a clip of Morse and Roberts from the original production, because here, they are too old and clearly under-rehearsed to deliver the goods. It's hard to reconcile this hammy performance by Robert Morse with the sedate, subtle one he is currently giving on Mad Men.

But still, in honor of the passing of Tony Curtis, and of his contribution to Some Like It Hot, here is this week's Dance Party; try to imagine Robert Morse and Tony Roberts younger, more agile, and singing on-key:

Friday Dance Party: The Palin Abstinence Program

Two of my least favorite things (reality television and the Palin family) collided this week, so naturally, they must be included in the Dance Party.



I'm told there are some Reality Shows out there which actually have some artistic merit. The ones which showcase actual talent, such as American Idol or Dancing With the Stars, should be right up my alley. Except I cannot get through a single episode. Whenever the contestant sits down in front of the camera, and starts to describe what he/she was feeling at the moment, I reach for the remote. Those moments reflect the depths to which our country has fallen; the "real people" are revealed to be illiterate, illogical, largely immoral, and completely self-absorbed. Those "interview" moments make my skin crawl.

So, I have never made it through a single episode of a single Reality Show, with the exception of Kathy Griffin's My Life on the D-List. I can make it through her show because SHE is the one sitting down with the camera, describing her feelings. She is hilarious.

So is Sarah Palin, though I doubt she means to be. It is incomprehensible to me that this barely intelligent, narrow-minded woman, who quit her job as Governor when it became apparent she could make more money devoting her time to the lecture circuit, anointed a handful of tea-party candidates in the recent primary elections, and has proven herself a kingmaker. It is further proof of the decline of the American public's intelligence, that they would blindly follow this woman who was the head of a state government but had never heard of Margaret Thatcher. And now, this creature's daughter has stepped into the spotlight, as a contestant on Dancing With the Stars.

Less than a year ago, Palin was interviewed by Oprah, and during that sitdown, she was asked about her feelings regarding the father of her bastard grandson. At the time, Levi Johnston was doing his best to extend his 15 minutes of fame by appearing nude in Playgirl, and pretending to be Kathy Griffin's boytoy. Saintly Sarah replied that she continued to pray for Levi, and that he was welcome in her home for Thanksgiving dinner. But only a few moments later, Palin inadvertently revealed the sanctimony with which she keeps herself popular with the far right wing, and sneered that Levi was doing his "Joe Hollywood" thing.

This week, Palin's own daughter began doing the same thing, strutting her stuff on Dancing With the Stars, with the apparent approval of her mother. How is this different from Levi's attempts to carve out a career as a famous person? Bristol Palin's only claim to celebrity is the fact that she is the nation's most famous unwed mother. This "advocate for teen abstinence," as she styles herself, ignored her mother's "values" and screwed her teen-aged boyfriend without using a condom. Let's put her on a TV show!


Do you think Sarah is holding her daughter to the same standards she holds Levi? How is Bristol's attempts to remain famous any different than those of "Joe Hollywood"?


Shameless self-promotion and hypocrisy seem to run with this clan.
Who knows how long Bristol Palin will last on Dancing With the Stars, and who cares? Well, ABC cares, since she is the ratings draw for this season. This week's Dance Party showcases our teen-aged bobblehead's first appearance on the show, shaking her boobs to the ironically chosen tune, "Mama Told Me Not To Come." I would venture to guess, instead, that Mama told her to run straight for the studio and grab the limelight while she can.

...and to think, this USED to be one of my favorite songs...

Theatre Droppings: All's Well That Ends With An 11 O'Clock Number

I attended two theatrical offerings this past week, which could not have been more different. Naturally, I'm including them both in the same entry. I'm economical that way.

All's Well That Ends Well is receiving a literate but somewhat sedate revival at The Shakespeare Theatre Company. The play is not one of the Bard's most popular, which may explain why The Shakes has not attempted it since 1996. I was in that earlier production, so I came to the current showing with some preconceptions. The reviews for this production have been pretty lukewarm, and I have to agree with most of them. There is nothing really wrong here, but the evening has a lusterless, moderately paced lack of urgency which is unusual for The Shakes. Trouble begins right away, with the terrible set design.

The Shakes has a reputation, well earned, for spending mountains of money on their scenic designs, and it usually pays off. But this is certainly the dullest set I have ever seen at the Lansburgh Theatre, and that includes my own production of All's Well, which was only a carpet and a platform:

You certainly don't need an expensive, elaborate set in order to effectively perform your story (see below), but this show's minimalist approach actually took away from the project at hand.

Marsha Mason has picked up some critical flack for her portrayal of the Countess, but I enjoyed her performance. It's down-to-earth and very American-sounding, as opposed to most of the other cast members, who are using the standard Mid-Atlantic accent which is favored at this most classical of companies. The other leading players here are doing a good job of telling the story, in fact, I freely admit that this production tells the story better than mine, which was hampered by Kelly McGillis's weepy performance as Helena. Not by coincidence, Ted van Griethuysen is playing the same role this time around as he did in 1996, the dying King of France. I've never seen Ted bad, and this is no exception. Paxton Whitehead is swiping all his scenes as a courtier and confidante, and my buddy Barbara Pinolini is injecting energetic juice into all the scenes in which she appears.

Though this production seems to tell the story better, I have to claim that my production in 1996 was a lot funnier. We had first class clown Floyd King in our cast, and, with Philip Goodwin and Wally Acton leading the charge, the scenes concerning the abduction of the vainglorious Parolles were laugh-out-loud funny.

Here, those same scenes barely raise a smile.

Over the weekend, I attended the latest offering from Ganymede Arts, a revival of the 1990s musical Falsettos. This theatre company, run by my old buddy from South Carolina, Jeff Johnson, deserves lots of credit for tackling such a difficult piece, and for finding a space in which to do it. Ganymede Arts has been homeless for I don't know how many years, producing their shows wherever they can. The past two seasons, they stopped renting spaces, and made their own.

Last year, they converted a back room of a knick-knack shop on 14th street into a performance space, and premiered a new piece called Edie Beale Live at Reno Sweeney (I wrote about seeing it here). That play (actually, it's a hybrid of a play and a cabaret act) has since taken on a life of its own. Ganymede has sent the piece to New York, twice, to appear at Joe's Pub, the cabaret space at the Public Theatre, and will be returning to Manhattan next month for a Halloween show at the Laurie Beechman Theatre. The show will also have several West Coast performances in November (if you are in any of those areas, the piece is worth a look, go here for more info).

Have I wandered off-track here? What are the odds of that? Ganymede has apparently lost the use of the theatre they created last year, so this season, they have created another one. They have taken some backroom space at Go Mama Go, another boutique on 14th street, and built another performance venue. This one looks a lot more like a traditional theatre than the last, which is a good thing, since their first offering there is an established show.

Falsettos is a chamber musical using seven performers to tell the story of a man who leaves his wife and child for another man. I have been familiar with the piece since it hit Broadway in the early 90s, winning Tonys for Best Book and Best Score. (That award for Best Book baffles me a little, since there is so little spoken dialogue in the piece, it should be considered an opera.) But I had never seen a production of Falsettos, nor of its components, March of the Falsettos and Falsettoland. Composer William Finn, you see, wrote the piece as individual one-act plays, and it was director James Lapine who had the idea to put them together into a single evening. He obviously decided to ignore the first show in the trilogy, In Trousers. Well, who could blame him? That first effort was a pretty slight piece by a very young composer (I saw a rare professional production of it in a basement in Los Angeles, starring Bill Hutton; I wrote about it here). While I imagine that first one-act enjoys life on college stages, it's really not a bright opportunity for professional productions.

I've wandered off topic again. Jeez. Back to the current Falsettos at Ganymede Arts. The production is being presented on a postage-stamp sized stage, with only a piano and a set of chairs on wheels as scenic elements.

That's okay, this is not a piece which requires a big visual element, though it gets plenty of elegant support from the lights. Marianne Meadows has provided the strongest design element in the production, and though I've actually performed several times under her lights, I have to say this is the best, most evocative lighting design I have seen from her. She ought to be designing the lights for musicals all the time.

The stand-out performer in this Falsettos has got to be Noah Chiet as the young kid Jason.

He's got swell timing and a strong presence which more than stands up to the adult cast members. He is at the center of the proceedings during act one, though in act two, emphasis shifts more to the adults. I suppose the best known song in Falsettos is "What More Can I Say," a love ballad frequently heard on cabaret stages, but I particularly loved "Unlikely Lovers," a quartet sung by the two gay couples at the heart of act two.

By this time in the proceedings, there were quite a few moist eyes in the house, even among the straight college boys who were trying to hide their tears from their dates. To conclude the evening, Finn has provided one of the great 11 o'clock numbers in "You Gotta Die Sometime," delivered by Michael Sazonov playing a gent dying of AIDS. Whether by Jeff's direction or Michael's instinct or the composer's design, the build in this number was pretty spectacular, with an ending which left a ringing silence in the air. Nobody could clap after that display of searing emotion.

This production of Falsettos is a bit raw and underproduced, but in the end, that doesn't matter. The poignancy of the story wins out, and this cast is telling that story with heart and spirit. I only wish that Ganymede Arts had the resources to play it in a larger venue.