How you feel about a movie version of Cats is probably dependent on whether or not you enjoyed Cats on Broadway (or on any stage). I was indifferent; I wasn’t completely immune to its certain charms (the otherworldly Betty Buckley’s incandescent performance, to be precise), despite the flimsiness of the score, sets and costumes. So, considering the source material, the film will probably be better by fiat. I’ll also surmise that the screenwriter, Lee Hall (who also wrote the screenplay for the film Billy Elliot as well as the book for the stage version, both wonderful), who co-wrote this screenplay with director Tom Hooper, has structured some sort of plot out of a book-less musical.
However, Jennifer Hudson, who portrays Grizabell, and looks like she spent some time in a litter box at Chernobyl, sounds pretty dreadful singing “Memory” (Hudson’s chest register is still non-existent, and the “…touch me…” is purely anti-climactic), and the eternal nuisance that is Rebel Wilson continues to annoy, even if briefly in a short trailer. Also, must. James. Corden. Be. Fucking. EVERYWHERE?!?!
That said, the choreography is by the brilliant Andy Blankenbuehler (three-time Tony winner for “In The Heights,” “Hamilton,” and “Bandstand”), and Dame Judy Dench as Old Deuteronomy, Sir Ian McKellan as Gus, The Theatre Cat, and Idris Elba as Macavity, will probably be worth the price of admission alone (or at least the eventual VOD rental), even if the names Jason Derulo and Taylor Swift are enough to cast some serious doubts. (Not to mention Hooper, who ruined the film version of Les Miserables with inept direction.)
But what the fuck do I know? This will probably make a fortune.
If we’re lucky homo sapiens, every few years a splendid anomaly occurs in the usually vapid space-time continuum of television awards shows that negates the basic dreary tropes and widens eyes with something that is, if you’ll excuse the cliché, purely magical.
The last time we were borne witnesses to such a thrilling spectacle was on June 8th, way back in 2013, and it was the opening number of the 67th Annual Tony awards. Renaissance man – and future Tony winner – Neil Patrick Harris (he would win the following year for Hedwig and the Angry Inch), performed the original song “Bigger,” written by Tony Award winners Lin-Manuel Miranda (In The Heights) and Tom Kittening (Next To Normal), and choreographed by Tony/Emmy winner Rob Ashford, and the number remains, (in?)arguably, the greatest opening number in any awards show history. Starting off with an ode to the 2012s Best Musical, Once, while alluding to the smaller Beacon Theater, where the awards took place the prior two years, Harris slowly morphs from intricate Irish troubadour…
I can break your heart with a work of art. And a song that’s quiet and small. But we’re back where we began it all. Radio City Music Hall.
So tonight we might go bigger…
…to full-on song & dance Master of Ceremonies, with a razzle-dazzle, lollapalooza EIGHT minutes of pure Broadway heaven. Saturating the stage of Radio City, Harris not only pays tribute to that year’s nominees, he also jumps through Pippin‘s circus hoops, gets hoisted in the air as a flyer for the cast of Bring It On, then landing without a beat, and even performs a classic, still confounding magic trick, all while continuing singing Miranda and Kitt’s brilliant ode to the theater, breathlessly and exuberantly.
It’s exhilarating to behold, and despite the spectacle of it all, with all its grandiosity, never once does it feel scattered, or discombobulated – it is overwhelming in the most wonderful way, never inundating the senses yet always dazzling them. You just sit there, mouth agape, taking in the beauty and wonder of it all. It defines the true essence of “Bringing down the house.”
Anna Kendrick and Debra Messing are ALL of us!
There are so many great lyrics in “Bigger” that it’s worth repeat viewings just to not miss them. From, “And you could bounce a quarter off the ass of Billy Porter. Lord he does eight shows a week in eight inch heels!” (Kinky Boots would go on to win 6 Tonys that night, including one for Porter) to “Hats off to Berry Gordy. He runs Motown like a boss. He dominates Top Forty and he banged Diana Ross!” (Gordy produced and wrote Motown: The Musical which ran that season, and was up for numerous awards) to poking fun of the ersatz movie version of Les Miserables (“Can I have my Tom Hooper ‘Les Miz’ closeup please? See, on Broadway we don’t need extreme closeups to prove we’re singing live. We sing live eight shows a week. Check it!”). Even Kathy Lee Gifford gets a lighthearted jab: “Mamma Mia, Lion King, The Jersey Boys are tappin’, Kathie Lee’s a Broadway lyricist so anything can happen!” (Gifford wrote the books and lyrics for Scandalous: The Life and Trials of Aimee Semple McPherson, which ran briefly that season to some surprisingly favorable reviews.)
But it’s not all comedy. By the time Harris sing/raps…
There’s a kid in the middle of nowhere, Who’s sitting there living for Tony Performances, Singing and flipping along with the Pippins And Wickeds and Kinkys, Matildas, and Mormanses. So we might reassure that kid, And do something to spur that kid, ‘cause I promise you, All of us up here tonight,
We WERE that kid!
…we are all already screaming, or crying, or both.
“Bigger” nears it’s finale by filling up the aisles and stage of Radio City’s with countless Broadway gypsies, singers and dancers from nearly every show running that season. And when this miraculous extravaganza reaches its climax, not only does Radio City’s audience roar with a thunderous, beatific ovation lasting more than 60 seconds (a lifetime for a live TV awards show), but we at home are doing the same, emotionally drained, exhausted and intoxicated.
When Audra McDonald and Zachary Quinto walked out on stage to present the first award, Quinto wisely says to the still recuperating audience, and to a smiling, agreeing McDonald, “That’s the definition of a tough act to follow!”
Indeed, Mr. Quinto. And to paraphrase Harris’s womanizing sitcom character Barney Stinson, “This Tony performance is legen…wait for it…DARY!”
Too many changes pissed me off: Ne-Yo is curious enough, but Ne-Yo writing an original song FOR this? Ugh. Removing “I Was Born On The Day Before Yesterday” and replacing it with a song not even good enough to make the cut of the dreadful movie version, called “You Can’t Win”? Feh. (Though, I do know it was originally written for the stage, but never used.) Queen Latifah and Mary J Blige? As much as I love them, both are ubiquitous. Enough. Now I’m not really adverse to change, but sometimes I’m guilty off being too much of a traditionalist, particularly when it comes to something I cherish. Oh well. Sue me.
Still, my anticipation was – and is – very high, as THE WIZ was the very first Broadway musical I ever saw, and it remains an indelible part of my very heart. And then I saw this. Now, I’m a religious-free man, but…oh my god. Oh. My. God. OH. MY. GOD!!!!! This sent tremulous shivers pirouetting down my spine.
I first saw the off-Broadway production back in February, at the Public, as a birthday present to myself. It was a staggering achievement then, but even more so now.
Every so often a work of art descends upon us from the heavens, via the musical theater gods – so breathtaking, towering in its scope, vision and execution – to dazzle us, to thrill us, to exalt us, to inspire us, to perplex us, to educate us, to illuminate us, and ideally, to transform us. Welcome to that pantheon, Hamilton.
Believe the hype. It’s one of the – if not THE – greatest musical I’ve seen in a decade or more, and ranks with the mightiest of all time.
Below is a clip sent to various networks and outlets to use as promos – a partial of “Yorktown (World Turned Upside Down),” which excludes the into, and it’s thrilling. I’m going back in a few months, and I’m sure to make various visits over the next few years.
I’ve seen “Les Miserables” countless times on Broadway since its opening back in 1987, with various actors playing Jean Valjean. I saw the brilliant Colm Wilkison twice during his original run, and his replacement, the great Gary Morris – yes the Country singer – who was outstanding in a complete 180 of his usual metier. I sat (slept?) through the 2006 revival, saved only by the performances (with Alexander Gemignani as Vlajean and Norm Green as Javert) – and, of course, Hugh Jackman in the sadly disappointing movie version. (Oh, and, I used to kill this song at karaoke.)
But it wasn’t until I saw Ramin Karimloo late last year that I witnessed the greatest “Bring Him Home” in the history of my Les Miz-experiencing life, and the most emotionally startling portrayal of Valjean. This video, while breathtaking, doesn’t even do justice to just how transcendent Karimloo was, as absolutely tremendous as his voice is here. To see him was to see Les Miz – and Jean Valjean – as a rebirth, rather than merely a renaissance.
I only wish that I had gone back to see him again, as I promised myself I would, but unfortunately, tonight is his last performance after a year and a half in the role. I’m not usually a proponent of “bootlegs” but I have to admit to being thankful that someone flipped out their iPhone to capture this genius performance.
Bravo for a monumental run, Karimloo. Can’t wait to see you on stage again.
I saw Glenn Close as Norma Desmond in the original Broadway production of Andrew Lloyd Weber’s flawed, overtly dismal SUNSET BOULEVARD the week it opened back in November 1994, and, despite her suspicious Tony Award win, it was not a very good performance (I saw her twice in the role just to verify/refute my initial reaction). They seemed to lower the key for her limited range, rearrange the score, and, more often than not, Close seemed lost in the grand spectacle of the staging, something she wasn’t used to as a more intimate stage actress. The show was beneath her skills as an actress, too. It needs to be said that Close was only one of two actresses nominated as Best Actress in a dim year for musicals (the other being Rebecca Luker for SHOW BOAT) and Broadway overall, so her Tony wasn’t unexpected.
Cover of PATTI LuPONE: A MEMOIR
How Close garnered the role is legendary in itself…I just finished reading an advance of Patti LuPone’s autobiography, PATTI LuPONE: A MEMOIR (release date is September 14 – if you’re a theatre buff, PRE-ORDER IT! It’s craaaazy!), who reiterates the horror that was the experience of the show – especially the back-stabbing and the mendacity attributed to the producers and, especially, Webber himself. The chapters of LuPone’s book were a mesmerizing read.
Once Close left the role, in stepped Betty Buckley – and I was astonished at what she was able to do bring to it. She resurrected Norma back to life. Long a Broadway legend for her supernatural voice, Buckley’s performance was stunning, each song a show-stopper.
According to LuPone, she was treated like garbage by Weber and his evil minions – and Broadway will never know what they missed in a Patti “Norma.” There are some YouTube clips posted of her performances that give us a minute taste of what this incandescent lady might have accomplished had she been given the chance.
And here’s a mere taste of what I experienced with Buckley in the role. I’m not sure if this was from the London production, or from Broadway – I downloaded this clip from YouTube, and the poster didn’t say. The audio was low, so I encoded it at a much higher rate.
To witness Buckley on stage is to be beholden to one of the greatest forces of nature…an unparalleled gale force. From her Grizabella in CATS, to her staggering Emma in SONG & DANCE (she replaced the great Bernadette Peters), I’ve been enchanted by them all. I was there opening night for the much-maligned CARRIE too, and, while the show is legendary for all the right/wrong reasons, I’ll never forget Buckley as Margaret White. I adored her in the short-lived TRIUMPH OF LOVE in 1998, and of course in THE MYSTERY OF EDWIN DROOD a decade earlier.
Betty Buckley can easily brilliantly interpret even the most monumental banalities. Like an Andrew Lloyd Webber score.
Went to see the Tony-nominated Best Musical MILLION DOLLAR QUARTET last night, thanks to a co-worker’s extra ticket. It wasn’t a perfect production, but it was enjoyable on the jukebox musical genre level that’s sadly permeated Broadway in recent years.
A semi-fictionalized account based on the iconic photo of Carl Perkins, Elvis Presley, Johnny Cash and Jerry Lee Lewis (above) during an impromptu recording session one afternoon at Sam Phillips’ Sun studio in 1956, the show’s main saving grace came in the form of singer/songwriter Levi Kreis. In a performance that could have teetered toward cartoonish buffoonery, which would have been easy within the conventional storytelling mechanism of the book AND the fact that he portrayed Jerry Lee Lewis, Kreis infused the show with unabashed energy, charisma and an astonishing musical dexterity. He was a powder keg exploding – his Tony Award was well deserved.
****
My New Boyfriend 