Seems that the random kids in the East Village may have seen a show with another Topeka High School grad.
In reading this weeks Village Voice, I came across a review for Oliver Twist with the picture of a familiar face and name.
Were the kids just confused by the names of Oscar and Oliver? Do I look like someone in Carson's cast? Or maybe there is an undeniable quality about Topeka High alums that draws random goth kids to their shows.
[Why not go for the hat trick of blog posts?]
Friday night, I was crossing 1st Av in the East Village. A couple of people next to me started whispering.
1: Is that an actor?
2: I... I think. Yeah.
1: Yeah. He is. Hey!
2: He was in... what was he in?
1: He was in...
2: Um, um, um... Oliver Twist
1: OLIVER TWIST!
2: OLIVER TWIST!
(third and fourth guys come up to them)
(mumbled conversation)
3: OLIVER TWIST!
4: No, not Oliver. Oscar Wilde.
1,2,3,4: Hey, OSCAR WILDE!
Until the end, I wasn't sure they were talking about me. Rescue Me was filming in the neighborhood, so I thought maybe one of the actors from that show was walking around. But when these goth kids started yelling for Oscar Wilde across a busy intersection on a Friday night, I had a pretty good idea that they were yelling at me.
I have been recognized in Minneapolis for roles I've played, but I have to admit, I never thought I would be recognized by strangers in New York City.
This wasn't the crazy stalkerish fame, they didn't chase me down or try to attack me for playing such a "gay character", just a little taste of recognition. I realize they were probably undergrads who had to see the show for a class or something, but it still felt kind of nice.
[I know, a second post in one day! Shocking.]
Last week, at 5:30, I got a text message from an old friend from Kansas (since this post lies on the border between personal and famous people, I'll still refrain from using actual names). He is currently in the chorus of Les Miz and that night was going on as understudy for Valjean. In two and a half hours.
I rushed up to midtown to the TKTS line. No good. The show wasn't listed.
Ran to the box office, maybe there were some SRO tickets. Nope. Completely sold out.
I tried batting my eyes at the box office guy and insisting that I didn't want to see the show, but this performance, because my friend was understudying tonight! Even that didn't work.
I asked if there were ever turnbacks. He said, "Sometimes. Try back at 7:00".
I hung around the box office in the rain, for an hour, until a little before 7:00. I decided to give it a try and ask if any had been turned in, yet.
While I am waiting, a guy sneaks in the other door and cuts in front of me. He asks if there are any turnbacks, and the box office tells him one just opened up! What!? I shoot daggers in his back. Obviously, this works. The guy doesn't want to pay that much and walks away. I sidle up and buy it!
It was amazing! Specifically, the friend I went to see was amazing! I'm not just saying that in a friends sort of way. He was objectively amazing in the role. I had been to see him a couple weeks ago in the chorus role, so I had already had my cold Big Box Hating Musical heart thawed towards this show from my childhood. But in this role, he was fantastic! When you only have one chance to nail the performance, there is an extra electricity about the role. I've seen this added kick with other understudies, but this was someone who played my younger brother back in Kansas. And he nailed my three favorite Valjean moments. I can't wait to see what he can do with the role when he gets to cover after longer in the role.
The magic of theatre and friends can bring even an old, jaded musical theatre lover like me out of my funk for a little while.
It. Was. Amazing!
Disclaimer: A friend asked me if I like everything I see.
No, I just don't waste my money seeing shows I don't think I will like. And I haven't been disappointed, for the most part.
We got front row student rush tickets (thanks to my friend who was on Spring Break and therefore didn't have to teach that day, so he could get to the box office right at 6:00!) It was almost like being on stage. So much was happening around us, and I could see the veins in the actors' hands when they were really working it.
The conceit of Doyle's Sweeney was the same in this Doyle's Company, but it had a different feel, and still worked. This was a smooth, cocktail dress and dinner jacket show, with rocks glasses and martini glasses firmly in hand. The instruments were classy and added to the whirlwind going through Bobby's mind. Lots of people swirling or marching or whatnot at Bobby with their instruments, while he stood there instrument-less.
They also took out all the 70s waa-waa pedals. This was a crisp, concert looking orchestration.
I knew that "Being Alive" would bring me to tears, but I didn't think that "Ladies Who Lunch" or "Side By Side (By Side)" could do that. The staging of "Side By Side" was amazing. The "tap dance" sequence was replaced by instrumental duets. Each pair of married people would do a call and response duet for their couple measures,
standing on opposite sides of the stage. When Bobby's turn came, he pulled out and played a kazoo, and
everyone turned to look at the response... of course there was no one there, just a bright, harsh white light on the podium where every other duet partner had stood. During the big ending part, where everyone is going crazy and twirling their instruments around like a big-top parade, Bobby is just continued to stand in the same spot at the edge of the stage, bathed in white light, staring motionlessly at the empty spot on the opposite side of the stage, while everyone else is in a red wash parading crazily around. Heart breaking!
Then, "Ladies Who Lunch" was done most amazingly by Barbara Walsh. She started it out, as I assumed Elaine
Stritch did in the original, with a brazen drunken toast to a crowded bar. She starts off just kind of fun and drunk, second verse gets louder and meaner, then the last verses turn introspective and devastatingly personal, intense and focused. As she is hauntingly, pleadingly calling for "Everybody rise!", the pianist stops playing and nervously backs away from her, leaving Joanne to sing, call out, plead the final "rise"es in hollow, unaccompanied, echoing desperation. It was very reminiscent of the end of Sondheim's Follies with Ben's "Live-Laugh-Love" breakdown mixed with Dot's song "We Do Not Belong Together" from Sunday in the Park With George. Devastatingly well acted.
Of course, "Being Alive" brought the house down. Stopped the show cold (which is a little strange when
there is just another minute of dialogue, but Raul Espranza deserved it. I half expected the audience to
give him a standing ovation for that song, and not even wait for the bows). After all of the "What do ya get" intro, he slowly walks over to the piano and starts playing an instrument for the first time. Banging each chord with frustration and longing, pausing as if he is really working out the song.
I'm not sure if Company is the perfect show to see in your late 20s/early 30s, or the worst possible show to see in your late 20s/early 30s, but it is definitely one of the two.
And since we were sitting in the front row student rush seats, Barbara Walsh made eye contact with me and smiled multiple times at me during the bows and Equity Fights AIDS curtain speech.
I almost melted into my seat.