“I am attracted only to music which I consider to be better than it can be performed. Therefore I feel (rightly or wrongly) that unless a piece of music presents a problem to me, a never-ending problem, it doesn’t interest me too much.”
Artur Schnabel, My Life and Music
Archives for June 2011
NOVEL
Wesley Stace, Charles Jessold, Considered as a Murderer (Picador, $15 paper). A bewitchingly clever historical thriller in which the lives and work of Peter Warlock, Constant Lambert, and Carlo Gesualdo are blended into the hair-raising tale of an unworldly music critic who writes an opera libretto for a flint-hearted composer who returns the favor in the most malevolent way imaginable. The author (better known in pop-music circles as John Wesley Harding) has done a virtuosic job of fusing fact with fiction, and the result is one of the few novels with a musical setting in which the background is rendered accurately. Absolutely not for musicians only, though those who already know the dramatis personae will be dazzled by the sure-footed skill with which Stace has put their real-life stories to novelistic use (TT).
TT: Peter Falk, R.I.P.
I’ve never laughed harder in my life than I did when I first saw this scene from The In-Laws in 1979–and I bet you can guess which line did the job on me:
TT: Joy in Runyonland
On Sunday I drove up to Massachusetts’ Barrington Stage Company to see a letter-perfect revival of Guys and Dolls, and in today’s Wall Street Journal I rave about it. Here’s an excerpt.
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If “Guys and Dolls” isn’t the best Broadway musical ever written, then…but why go on? Everybody who knows and loves the show agrees that it’s as good as a musical can get. Frank Loesser’s score is a platinum mine–at least half of the 16 songs, including “If I Were a Bell,” “I’ll Know,” “I’ve Never Been in Love Before” and “Luck Be a Lady,” are take-it-to-the-bank standards–and the book, smartly adapted by Abe Burrows from the raffish short stories of Damon Runyon, is funny enough to stand on its own.
But no musical, however classic, is invulnerable to bad direction, and Des McAnuff’s miscast 2009 Broadway revival was an over-cooked scoop of mush soft enough to make anyone unfamiliar with “Guys and Dolls” wonder what the fuss was about. If only John Rando’s new Barrington Stage version had opened on Broadway instead of in the Berkshires! Mr. Rando, a master of musical comedy who won a Tony for “Urinetown,” gets everything right that Mr. McAnuff got wrong, and plenty more besides.
The manifold virtues of this revival start with the stars. The four lead roles are played by top-class regional-theater performers with Broadway experience, all of whom sing as well as they act. Matthew Risch, lately of “Pal Joey,” is smooth and debonair as Sky Masterson, the high-rolling sharpie who wins the heart of Miss Sarah Brown (Morgan James), the dishy Salvation Army doll who longs to save the souls of all the heels on Broadway. Michael Thomas Holmes plays Nathan Detroit, the proprietor of the oldest established permanent floating crap game in New York, like a slightly nebbishy Harvey Keitel. Ms. James, a refugee from the cast of “Wonderland,” has classical-quality pipes and enough warmth to melt the heart of a bill collector in January. As for Leslie Kritzer, who stood out in “A Catered Affair” and “Sondheim on Sondheim,” she shines brightly as the tough but lovable Adelaide, a third-tier nightclub warbler who’s been engaged to Nathan for 14 years and doesn’t want to hear any more excuses.
None of these four pros needs help to make a strong impression, but Mr. Rando, working in tandem with Joshua Bergasse, the show’s choreographer, surely deserves plenty of credit for sharpening the focus of their characterizations. Every plot point is put across with the unobtrusive crispness of the comradely kiss that Sky plants atop Adelaide’s head at the end of the reprise of “Adelaide’s Lament.” The laughs are there, but so is the feeling: You never forget that “Guys and Dolls” is not just a comedy but also a double-barreled love story, and you believe at all times in the truth of the underlying emotions that give meaning to the jokes….
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Read the whole thing here.
TT: Julie Taymor’s complaint
The ex-director of Spider-Man: Turn Off the Dark is still making news, and the news she’s making is the subject of my “Sightings” column in today’s Wall Street Journal. Here’s an excerpt.
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Blame it on Twitter. So says Julie Taymor, who claims that she got fired from “Spider-Man: Turn Off the Dark” because unhappy audience members who saw the show in previews took to social media in droves to complain, spinning a web of negative buzz that ultimately led to her dismissal as the show’s director.
“Twitter and Facebook and blogging just trump you,” Ms. Taymor said at a recent meeting of the Theater Communications Group. “When you’re trying to create new work, and you’re trying to break new ground and experiment, which seems an incredibly crazy thing to do in a Broadway environment, the immediate answers that audiences give are never going to be good.” She added that the producers’ decision to rewrite the book of “Spider-Man” based on the input of focus groups was a mistake: “It’s very scary if people are going more towards that, to have audiences tell you how to make a show. Shakespeare would have been appalled.”
Ms. Taymor got one thing right: It’s crazy to experiment on Broadway, especially if you’re doing it with somebody else’s $70 million. But the rest of her lament was alternately self-serving and ill-informed, as anyone familiar with the history of New York theater could–and should–have told her.
Let’s start with the self-serving part. Ms. Taymor seems to think that her attempt to create a groundbreaking work of theatrical art was sabotaged by a horde of philistines who just didn’t get it. Er, how’s that again? “Spider-Man: Turn Off the Dark” was, and remains, a commodity musical about a comic-book character. No matter how well they’re done, commodity musicals are not high art. Even if they’re supremely artful, like Ms. Taymor’s “The Lion King,” they’re still applause machines whose main function is to make pots of money for their backers.
As for the alleged culpability of social media, it’s true that Twitter, Facebook, and the Broadway-oriented message boards have accelerated word of mouth to the speed of light. It’s also true that innovative artistic ideas need time to be perfected–and to be assimilated by those who are seeing them for the first time. And social media definitely spread the word about the problems of “Spider-Man” early on, though much of the sharpest criticism was written not by furious fanboys but by thoughtful commentators who, like Chris Caggiano, author of the theater blog “Everything I Know I Learned From Musicals,” are at least as smart as the best print-media critics.
All this notwithstanding, the truth is that Broadway hasn’t been changed all that much by Twitter….
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Read the whole thing here.
TT: See me, hear me (cont’d)
I’m one of the panelists on the latest episode of Theater Talk, which will be telecast by CUNY-TV on Saturday at 8:30 p.m. ET (followed by several repeat airings). Joining me are fellow drama critics Adam Feldman, Jacques le Sourd, and Elisabeth Vincentelli. The hosts are Michael Riedel and Susan Haskins. We’ll be talking about the Broadway season just ended, and I can promise you that the discussion, which we taped a few weeks ago, will be frisky.
For more information, go here.
If you want to watch it now, here’s the complete episode:
TT: Almanac
“Always providing you have enough courage–or money–you can do without a reputation.”
Margaret Mitchell, Gone With the Wind
TT: With humble apologies to Cole Porter…
…I offer this new lyric to an old song in the hope of making certain careless theatergoers think twice:
Turn off your cellphone,
Start powering it down.
Turn off your cellphone
Or your fellow men will frown.
If it rings at the end of The Crucible,
All the ushers will treat you as gooseable.
If you chat when you ought to be si-o-lent,
Then assume that your date will get violent.
We’re all sick of the buzzing and ringing
That detracts from the acting and singing.
Turn off your cellphone
Or get out of town.
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Cole Porter’s “Brush Up Your Shakespeare,” sung by Lee Wilkof and Michael Mulheren in the 1999 Broadway revival of Kiss Me, Kate: