Everything I Know I Learned From Musicals

9 to 5 Will Close September 6th

Today's New York Post ran a pointlessly snarky column by Michael Riedel announcing the imminent closure of the Broadway musical 9 to 5, probably around Labor Day. Of course, this was before the producers had a chance to break the news to the cast before today's matinee, but that didn't seem to matter to Miss Riedel.

Then, later in the day, came the official announcement, which ran on Playbill.com and other online sites, that 9 to 5 would indeed be closing, specifically on September 6th. At that time, the show will have played 148 performances and 24 previews, which makes it likely that the producers will have lost their entire investment, which is rumored to have been about $14 million.

I must admit that it's a bit two-faced of me to admonish La Riedel for dumping on 9 to 5. For weeks, as I've pored through the Broadway grosses, I've been predicting in my Twitter updates that the show would be shuttering soon. After all, 9 to 5 has been playing to about 70% capacity with and average ticket of around $70. And this is during the summer, when New York is teeming with pleasure-seeking tourists. Plus, 9 to 5 has been grossing around $700,000 a week at a time when no fewer than ten Broadway productions are bringing in $1-million plus. And even if $700k is enough to meet the show's weekly nut, that amount would likely plummet come fall, much like what happened to Legally Blonde last year, precipitating the show's October 2008 demise.

Now, I didn't much care for 9 to 5 when I saw it in April. (Read my review.) I found it to be a middling entry in the movies-into-musicals genre, ranking somewhere below Dirty Rotten Scoundrels and The Wedding Singer. But I know a number of people who enjoyed 9 to 5, including my esteemed blogger buddies Esther and Steve. (Click on their names for their respective takes on 9 to 5.) And there was much to appreciate in the show's central trio of performers: Allison Janney, Stephanie J. Block, and Megan Hilty. So I take no great pleasure in seeing 9 to 5 close, although I genuinely wish that the show had been better.

As always, with the closure announcement for 9 to 5, came word that the show will launch a tour. I definitely see this happening; the movie has a sufficient fan base that the musical version will likely attract decent crowds in the provinces, although I can't really seeing it making more than one nationwide sweep. Those who aren't able to catch the show before it closes, or won't get to see the tour, will have to make do with the 9 to 5 cast recording, which came out yesterday. I haven't received my copy yet, but I'm hoping the Dolly Parton songs hold up better than they did in the theater. After all, she's the person who turned a so-so song ("I Will Always Love You") from a pretty bad movie ("The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas") into a veritable goldmine. The self-described "Backwoods Barbie" will rise again.

Rent National Tour with Pascal and Rapp

What a difference a city block makes. As I posted about over the weekend, I saw the national tour of Jersey Boys at Boston's Shubert Theater on Friday night. (Read my review.) Then last night at the Colonial I caught the latest national tour of Rent. Yeah, those are two fairly disparate shows, but the biggest difference was in the audiences.

Whereas the Jersey Boys crowd comprised mostly 40+ suburban married couples, the Rent crowd was dominated by teenagers, with a liberal sprinkling of tweens. It was as though the parents had dropped off their offspring at the Colonial on their way to the Shubert. It struck me that most of these kids were probably in their infancy when Rent first opened in 1996. I think that actually bodes well for the future of musical theater, provided of course that we can keep coming up with more shows like Rent and Spring Awakening to lure in the kids.

As for the Rent tour, the key drawing point seemed to be the presence of original cast members Adam Pascal and Anthony Rapp, who were both greeted with squeals of delight upon their entrances. Pascal was either deliberately underplaying or bored, which was fine with me, because it seemed to temper his penchant for emotional excess and vocal mannerisms. There were some "American Idol" touches in his songs: instead of resolving at the end of "One Song Glory," he went up a third and held the note, to the palpable delight of the pubescent crowd. But for the most part, Pascal was somewhat restrained, and remains in very strong voice. Rapp seemed as though he was actively trying to find ways to keep the piece fresh for himself, changing his line readings, back phrasing in some of his solo moments. Rapp has it a bit tougher, as the role of Mark is really the most underwritten in the show. But he did seem a bit more willing to interact with the other performers, which Pascal seemed to be avoiding.

I've written quite a bit about Rent on this blog, so I won't repeat what I've said before. When the producers announced last year that the Broadway production would close, after twelve years and 5,124 performances, I wrote about certain flaws I saw in the show, as well as my own strong personal connection to Rent. I also posted a review of the cinecast version of Rent, which subsequently came out on DVD, a version that far surpasses the lackluster Chris Columbus movie version of "Rent."

But last night, I found myself developing an even greater appreciation for the strength of the piece. The late Jonathan Larson proved himself a marvelous tunesmith in his short career, but also displayed a deft touch for character illumination. For instance, in the rousing "Out Tonight," coming at a point in the first act where we really need an energy boost, we also get the introspective bridge in which Mimi offers a glimpse of her impoverished upbringing and her urge to medicate it away:

Can't sleep in the city of neon and chrome
Feels too much like home
When the Spanish babies cry
So let's find a bar
So dark we forget who we are
Where all the scars from the
Nevers and maybes die

Larson also proved himself a diligent student of musical-theater devices, such as the dramatically meaningful reprise. The song "I'll Cover You" works really well in its initial incarnation, providing shorthand justification for the rather instantaneous Collins/Angel relationship. But then the second act we get the reprise, which a mournful Collins sings in response to Angel's passing, which for me is one of the most powerful moments in musical-theater history.

Many people have found fault with the admittedly manipulative ending, in which Mimi seems to magically come back to life, with a message from Angel, no less. I'll admit, it's pretty cheap. But, you know what? It works. It's Larson's way of saying, "This isn't La bohème. It doesn't have to end with everybody dead. There is actually hope for the future." As artificial as it might seem, I think that note of hope is one of the reasons people respond to Rent so fervently. And that most certainly includes me.

Jersey Boys Tour at Boston's Shubert Theater

What a treat to walk through Boston's theater district last night and see it bustling with activity. True, only two of the theaters were occupied by actual theatrical events: the national tour of Jersey Boys at the Shubert and that of Rent, which features original cast members Adam Pascal and Anthony Rapp, at the Colonial. (I'll be seeing the latter tomorrow night. Watch for my review.) The Wang was occupied by Steely Dan, and the Wilbur was hosting comedian Joy Behar. But for a second there, I could have sworn I was on 44th Street between 8th and Broadway.

It was likewise a pleasure to see the venerable Shubert occupied by a professional touring company. Lately, it's been relegated to second-tier status as a theater, hosting a local opera company and some dance performances. How keenly I recall seeing a wide variety of touring shows there during my high school and college years, including They're Playing Our Song, Evita, and Les Miserables. I also have fond memories of the occasional out-of-town tryout, such as Rags, Big Deal, or Dreamgirls. The last show I saw there before last night was Rent during its first national tour in the late '90s.

So I entered the Shubert with a keen sense of nostalgia, which is pretty darned appropriate given that I was there to see Jersey Boys, a show that veritably reeks of same. When I saw Jersey Boys on Broadway, with the original cast, I appreciated the show's slick presentation, but found it missing an emotional center. (Read my review.) I caught the show again last fall in Las Vegas, and had a very similar reaction. (Read my review.)

But as I sat watching the show last night, I found myself at first begrudgingly admitting that the show is extremely well crafted and executed, and then gradually and genuinely enjoying the ride. (Perhaps I've finally let go of the umbrage I felt when Jersey Boys won the best musical Tony over The Drowsy Chaperone.) The Jersey Boys book by Marshall Brickman and Rick Elice is a model of economy, providing just enough context to put the goings-on into perspective. There's also plenty of humor and pathos in evidence. Add in Des McAnuff's swift direction and Sergio Trujillo's sharp staging, and you have about as entertaining a show as you could reasonably imagine. No, Jersey Boys is no world-changer. But it manages to convey the admittedly quotidian story of Frankie Valli and The Four Seasons with heart and showmanship.

Brickman and Elice, in particular, really know how to build excitement, as they do so ably in the dialog leading up to both "Sherry" and "Can't Take My Eyes Off You." Of course, it doesn't hurt that Bob Gaudio's songs are just so frickin' great. I defy you not to feel chills when the first few chords of the latter song start in. And there's something inexplicably thrilling about watching the horn section walk in step across the catwalk during the iconic buildup to the song's "I love you baby..." refrain. It gets me every time.

No doubt director McAnuff had a strong hand in some of the smart choices that the show exhibits, including songs when the show needs them, as well as stage business and dialog interwoven to give the songs some weight. McAnuff also displays a fine touch for simple but effective staging choices, such as having characters (wives, girlfriends, daughters) walk across the set's catwalk when they're leaving someone's life, back-lit from stage left as they exit, as well as having Valli face upstage with his back to the audience during a pivotal and emotional scene in the second act. Overall my third viewing of this show brought me closer to an appreciation of Jersey Boys as a truly remarkable achievement.

But I think the main reason that this was the best of the Jersey Boys productions that I've seen is Joseph Leo Bwarie as Frankie Valli. Bwarie not only had the Valli impersonation down to a T, he also brought an understated intensity and a very amiable quality to the role. Bwarie renders credible both the unassuming and mensch-like qualities of Valli in the book scenes, as well as the dynamic, born-to-perform nature of Valli when he starts to sing Gaudio's amazing catalog.

Jersey Boys does suffer from a few minor missteps. The show does an admirable job of weaving in the hits of Frankie Valli and The Four Seasons, but I'm sort of at a loss to explain why the group sings "Rag Doll" at their induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. OK, sure, perhaps that's simply the song they sang at that particular performance, but in a show that seems to amply justify nearly every song, that song sticks out as inexplicable. A quibble, to be sure. 

Some of my fellow bloggers have commented as to how they don't really consider Jersey Boys to be a musical. I'm going to need to respectfully disagree with my esteemed friends and colleagues. First, as I've stated before, my attitude is that a "musical" is defined by its creators. As long as the people who put the show together consider it a musical, then I'm all for calling that show a musical. So, yes, Contact is a musical. So are Movin' Out, Ain't Misbehavin', and even [shudder] Dirty Dancing. The question is: Are they any good? Some of the aforementioned shows are very good indeed, Contact and Ain't Misbehavin', in particular. Whereas Dirty Dancing is an utter abomination, an affront to mankind, and a pestilent scourge on the theatrical landscape. (Read my review of Dirty Dancing.) 

Call Jersey Boys anything you want. What it is, at least from my perspective, is a fitting tribute to a beloved singing group, and one of the most all-around entertaining shows to come around in many a season.

Kristina Concert Coming to Carnegie Hall

It's all too easy to dismiss Björn Ulvaeus and Benny Andersson as the guys who inflicted Mamma Mia! on the world. First of all, Mamma Mia, at least on stage, really isn't all that bad. And those ABBA songs are pretty darned catchy.

And then there's Chess, which has never really worked as a show, but that score...oh, that score. It's so good, it can even survive the dual assault of Idina Menzel and Adam Pascal. (See my review of the recent concert version of Chess.)

So please forgive me if I'm actually looking forward to Kristina, the latest show with a score by Ulvaeus and Andersson, which will have a two-night concert stay at Carnegie Hall on September 23rd and 24th. The show is actually about 14 years old, having played for years in ABBA's native country of Sweden under the name Kristina Från Duvemåla, and produced a three-CD recording, which I own but have not yet listened to. (I mean, it's nearly four hours long, and it's in Swedish; I think at least this time I can be excused for owning a CD I've never heard. Why do I even have it, you ask? Clearly you don't understand the psychosis that is cast-album collecting.)

The show is derived from four novels by Swedish author Vilhelm Moberg, and concerns the Swedish emigration to America at the end of the 19th century. The show's new English text is by Herbert Kretzmer, British author and critic who made a frickin' mint by translating Les Miserables. As for the cast of the concert version, Helen Sjöholm will reprise the title role, which she played in the Swedish version. Sjöholm also appeared in a Swedish concert production of Chess: watch her belt the crap out of "Someone Else's Story" here and here. Joining her in Kristina will be Russell Watson; watch this hunky, internationally renown tenor do his operatic stuff here.

It's not clear why Ulvaeus and Andersson are opting for a concert version of Kristina instead of a Broadway run. Perhaps this concert is meant to drum up interest in a full-scale American production. No matter, I fully intend to be in the audience come September to discern whether Kristina might have a future beyond Carnegie Hall.

The Marvelous Wonderettes at the Westside Theater

On my recent trip to New York, I had some limitations as to which shows I could see when. Because I was getting press passes, I could only see The Tin Pan Alley Rag on Thursday and Vanities on Sunday. (Read my review of the former here and the latter here.) I had planned on attending the full-day marathon of The Norman Conquests on the Saturday, so that left my Friday night show slot to fill. I had already seen everything else on Broadway, so I turned my attention to Off-Broadway.

The only Off-Broadway musical that I hadn't already seen was The Marvelous Wonderettes. After my recent experience with Forever Plaid, I must admit that I was less than excited at the prospect. To me, The Marvelous Wonderettes seemed like a Plaid retread: same concept, different body parts. But I turned out to be a lot more entertained than I was with Forever Plaid, and pleasantly surprised at the quality of the performances.

Unlike the boys of Forever Plaid, The Marvelous Wonderettes are very much alive. The first act takes place at the girls' senior prom in 1958, the second act at their ten-year high school reunion. Like the Plaids, the Wonderettes comprise a close-harmony singing group, and serve as the entertainment for both prom and reunion. The intervening decade allows for some of the same growing-apart-and-coming-back-together hand-wringing that's evident a few blocks north at Vanities. But somehow, Wonderettes writer/director Roger Bean pulls it all off considerably better, probably because the whole affair takes itself a lot less seriously.

Act one is a slight but pleasant diversion, liberally sprinkled with such 1950s standards as "Lollipop" and "Secret Love." Things get considerably more interesting and entertaining in the second half, and I found myself engaged almost despite myself, carried away by the sheer charm of the four performers. I was particularly taken with the dynamic and hilarious Lindsay Mendez as Betty Jean and Christina DeCicco as Cindy Lou, her best friend and rival in romance. Equally enjoyable were Misty Cotton as the uptight-but-destined-to-unwind Missy, and Kirsten Bracken as, well, the blond.

The Marvelous Wonderettes seems destined to become one of those small, Off-Broadway hits that runs for years but that no one you know has actually seen. (e.g. Nunsense, I Love You, You're Perfect, Now Change) I say, give it a try. It's a light-weight but amiable showcase for some terrific old songs and four wonderful performers. As far as feminine tales of lost and found friendship go, you could certainly do a lot worse. (cf. Vanities)

Vanities at the Second Stage Theater

As you may know, the new musical Vanities was slated to open at Broadway's Lyceum Theater this past season, but the run was canceled when the economy soured.

Well, the economy did these folks a favor. If Vanities had actually made it to Broadway, chances are it would have been a short-lived embarrassment, like Glory Days, or disappointment, like The Story of My Life. Instead, the show gets a one-month run at a non-profit theater, New York's Second Stage, the possibility of a cast album, and a shot at a life in regional productions. Because, despite a professional presentation and a perky, talented cast of three (Lauren Kennedy, Sarah Stiles, and Anneliese Van Der Pol), Vanities is a musical that makes little lasting impression.

One of the show's key liabilities is its inoffensive but forgettable score by David Kirshenbaum (Summer of '42). It's hard to pin down exactly what's wrong with the score, because it's pleasant enough in performance. But the songs don't stick, either in terms of memorability or in serving a dramatic purpose. Part of the problem could be that the score only intermittently reflects the time period in which the scenes are set. It doesn't grow in its cultural influences as you might expect from a musical that spans the 1960s through the 1980s. There are some Burt Bacharach touches in some of the orchestrations during the '60s portion of the show, but after that the generic score becomes timeless, but not in a good way. It doesn't help that Kirshenbaum throws in such anachronisms as "living large" and "chatty Cathy" well before these terms came about.

Even worse, the songs don't tell the story, they stop it. Every number feels like a digression from the plot rather than something that enhances it. I'm not saying that Vanities shouldn't have been a musical, but the current score doesn't add much to the drama or to our understanding of these characters.

The score might have seemed less egregious had the surrounding text had greater depth. The main problem with Jack Heifner's book, which is based on his 1976 play of the same name, is that there really isn't any drama until about an hour into the show. Before that, we just see these three high school friends graduate, attend college, and head off into the world to inevitably and predictably grow apart. But when the drama finally comes, it's really too late for us to start caring. In the show's pivotal scene at a New York penthouse apartment, the girls finally have a knock-down drag-out fight, and things start to get interesting. But in the following scene, all is forgiven and we're forced to accept an artificially easy reconciliation. Then it's off to the final number, chockablock with platitudes, and the characters walk off into the sunset together. That's right: they literally walk off into the sunset. Oy.  

The problems with the score and the book are probably so systemic that no director could have fixed them. Even so, Judith Ivey probably wasn't the right choice of director. There's a big difference between directing a previously existing show and steering a developing work towards a final product. There are some really terrific developmental directors (Hal Prince, James Lapine) and there are directors who work better on finished material (Walter Bobbie). I'm going to give Ivey the benefit of the doubt and assume that if she's ever going to be a great director, she might be better off in the latter category.

Vanities runs at the Second Stage until August 9th. I have a feeling that, should this production produce a cast album, the show will get a decent amount of play in regional theaters. If there's no CD, this is probably the last we'll see of Vanities.

The Norman Conquests - The Full-Day Marathon

When I saw Table Manners, the first play in Alan Ayckbourn's trilogy The Norman Conquests, I was utterly enchanted, both by the play itself as well as the expert cast of six. (Read my review.) I wasn't sure I was going to be able to get down to the city to to see the other two plays, but was really glad that I had seen at least one.

When I heard my blogger buddy Esther at Gratuitous Violins was planning on taking in the entire marathon this past Saturday, I decided to join her for Living Together and Round and Round the Garden. Such was my anticipation leading up to the event, at the last minute I buckled and got a ticket to see Table Manners again on the same day. On marathon days, the shows play at 11:30 AM, 3:30 PM, and 8 PM, so Esther and I got to spend a lot of quality time together at lunch, and then met Steve on Broadway and his significant other for dinner.

Having been exposed to Table Manners, and all the revelations and comic goings-on therein, I was wondering whether Ayckbourn would be able to keep the laughs and the surprises coming. And one of the things that makes this trilogy so compelling is that he does indeed, right to the very end of the third play. There's no question that any one of the plays by itself would be a satisfying evening of theater, but there really is a tremendous cumulative effect to seeing all three. I'm not sure it's entirely necessary to see them all in the same day, but all the better if you can.

No small part of the joy of this particular production lies in its performers. Stephen Magnan is an absolute powerhouse as the eponymous Norman, evoking both sympathy and outrage by turns. Ben Miles is an understated stitch as the dim-witted Tom. Amanda Root somehow manages to make the potentially shrill Sarah both hysterical (in both senses of the word) and poignant. Jessica Hynes puts on the slow burn as the dowdy but potentially explosive Annie. Paul Ritter brings a credible depth to the dorky but delightful Reg. And Amelia Bullmore gives the distant but desperate Ruth just enough edge to make her sharp, but also sufficient vulnerability to render the character believable. Throw in Matthew Warchus's genius direction, and you have a about as satisfying a day in the theater as you are ever likely to experience. 

Despite the critical success of the shows, they're unlikely to recoup their initial investment. The production has been playing to 90% capacity, but most of the tickets have been discounted. That's unfortunate for the producers, but for playgoers it means that you still have a chance to see any combination of these shows at a considerable discount. The production plays at the Circle in the Square Theater through this Sunday. If you haven't seen The Norman Conquests yet, make every reasonable effort to do so. I promise you won't be disappointed.

Finian's Rainbow Revival Cast and Logo

The producers of the upcoming Broadway revival of Finian's Rainbow recently announced some initial casting for the show. The lovely and talented Kate Baldwin will reprise the role of Sharon, which she played in the recent Encores concert version. Also returning as the eponymous Finian will be the delightful Jim Norton, Tony winner for The Seafarer. Warren Carlyle, who directed and choreographed the Encores production, will repeat those duties for Broadway.

As for those who won't be returning, the delicious Cheyenne Jackson will likely not be a part of the Broadway Finian's Rainbow cast, owing to a conflicting engagement, which rumor has it will be in London. No announcement yet about who will be taking Jackson's place. Also out is the wonderful Jeremy Bobb as Og, apparently because the Burton Lane estate thought he was too cute for the role. (How's that for a left-handed compliment?) Taking his place as Og will be Christopher Fitzgerald. (I guess he's just cute enough.) Tony winner Chuck Cooper (The Life) will also join the cast in the role of Billboard.

In my review of the Encores version, I said that I was enchanted by the the Burton Lane and E.Y. "Yip" Harburg score, but nonplussed by book, adapted there by David Ives. But I've subsequently read through Harburg's original and Peter Stone's revised versions of the libretto, and found a lot more merit in the show than the Encores presentation reflected. As to whether it will be commercially viable, I have serious doubts. As I said in my review:

It's one thing to wow the "in" crowd at City Center. It's another thing entirely to attract enough of the general public to make a Broadway run profitable. Heck, if frickin' Gypsy with frickin' Patti LuPone can't manage more than 332 performances, what makes producers think that Finian's Rainbow is going to lure the crowds in?

On the plus side, I really like the new logo, pictured above. The image is vibrant and welcoming, and conveys the sense of a classic story with a fresh, modern sensibility. Hopefully, so will the show.

UPDATE: Despite recent reports to the contrary, Variety writes today that Cheyenne Jackson will indeed reprise the role of Woody when Finian's Rainbow hits Broadway this coming season. I had heard that Jackson had a conflicting engagement in London, but it appears that either that gig fell trough, or the producers of Finian's Rainbow were able to entice him away. Either way, it's good news for the show: more than just a pretty face, Jackson is also a terrific performer, and made for a charming foil to Baldwin's winsome Sharon. I would have seen the show again anyway, but this makes the prospect that much more pleasurable.

Tin Pan Alley Rag at the Roundabout

No one likes to be lectured to, not even my students. (Especially not my students.) The key to successful education lies in engaging and inspiring your students to do their own thinking and make their own decisions. The same thing goes for musical theater. Even shows with a lot of information to relate need to do so in an entertaining fashion.

The Tin Pan Alley Rag doesn't. This new musical, compiled by one Mark Saltzman, and being presented by the Roundabout Theater Company at the Laura Pels Theater, represents a static and uninspired history lesson about parallels in the careers and life experiences of composers Scott Joplin and Irving Berlin. Along the way, we're subjected to a lot of plodding exposition and hoary humor, but very little that actually brings the music and stories of these important men to life.

Saltzman apparently took his inspiration from the notion that both Joplin and Berlin had wives who died very shortly after their respective weddings. Saltzman attempts to show how this provided some sort of professional impetus to both of the men, but he never really goes beyond facile observations about love and loss, nor does he show who these people are or why they fell in love. We're witnessing the facts but we're not understanding the feelings.

Even worse, Saltzman uses the fictive meeting that frames the show's story to embark on some banal proselytizing about art versus commerce. Apparently, Scott Joplin spent much of the last years of his life trying to marshal interest in his "ragtime opera" Treemonisha. In this show, Joplin shows up at Berlin's music-publishing business on Tin Pan Alley to try to get Berlin to publish this work. Berlin spouts some bromides about what makes for a hit song, Joplin bristles, then proceeds to admonish Berlin for not pursuing loftier artistic ambitions. The show then follows a series of flashbacks in the How-Did-You-Get-to-Be-Here-Mr.-Shepard mode, parading a collection of cardboard characters through a series of dull, didactic scenes.

Saltzman's only other recognizable theater credit is the revue A...My Name is Alice, to which he -- and dozens of others -- contributed material. His primary work experience seems to be the years he spent writing for "Sesame Street," and although that certainly explains his apparent need to educate, you'd think he would have picked up a bit more about the successful merger of pedagogy and entertainment. Instead, he relies on static devices, such as using Berlin's contrapuntal "Won't You Play a Simple Melody" as an unconvincing excuse to get the two composers to play together. He also employs primitive stage techniques, like the scene in which a symphony conductor in St. Louis clunkily asks "Tell me, Mr. Joplin, what is this 'syncopation' of which you speak?" Forget the fact that syncopation existed long before ragtime, that kind of sloppy exposition is a Drama 101 Don't.

Perhaps the most egregious of Saltzman's transgressions is the false conceit of Joplin urging Berlin on to greater artistic ambition. "What do you play for yourself in the dark?," Joplin asks Berlin. Well, there's no question that Irving Berlin wrote great songs -- truly great songs -- and went on to create at least one decent score, that of Annie Get Your Gun. But most of his other shows are pretty much forgotten, because he never really caught on to the Rodgers and Hammerstein revolution. Don't get me wrong: Berlin was a genius, and wrote some of the greatest songs in musical-theater history, including the gorgeous and powerful "Supper Time" from As Thousands Cheer. But he never quite made it into the pantheon of great musical-theater composers, those who, like R&H, created bold, cohesive, integrated scores.

But Saltzman needed something tangible to emerge from Joplin's insistence, so he shows Berlin becoming inspired to create an "American Symphony" telling his life story in musical form. But Berlin never wrote any such work, which gives the lie to Saltzman's entire premise. For such a device to be dramatically feasible, we probably would have needed to witness some sort of regret from Berlin that he never followed in Gershwin's, or Joplin's, footsteps.

How fitting that the Roundabout would end its 2008-2009 season with The Tin Pan Alley Rag, which is really  the rest of its disastrous season (cf. Pal Joey, Hedda Gabler, The Philanthropist, A Man for All Seasons) in musical miniature.

More Fallout From Tony Ruling

Apparently, the critics are pissed.

According to Variety, there's been a considerable backlash on the part of the New York critical establishment on the decision by the Tony Awards Powers That Be to remove journalists from the voting rolls. The move has some "journos," as Variety so colorfully coins them, mulling some sort of retaliatory tactic, including "lodging a formal complaint to reopen negotiations, as well as prompting talk of expanding the [New York Drama Critics Circle] annual awards to counter the exclusion from the Tonys."

The article goes on to address various nefarious motivations that different folks have posited as the real reason for the change, with most people dismissing the "conflict of interest" ploy as utter hogwash. Among them:

• Presenters and promoters want to tighten their control over the Tony Awards, further emphasizing that the whole thing's just a marketing ploy anyway.
• Producers are sick of forking over 800 pairs of free tickets, which is ridiculous, since critics see the shows free anyway, even if they're not Tony voters.
• Some theater folk have been pissed at certain theater pundits making Tony predictions and voting to ensure those predictions come true, which even if true seems like an extraordinarily minor point at best.

So, whatever. The Tempest in a Tony Teapot will eventually die down, but another point that the article made really hit home for me, as I'm sure it will for my fellow bloggers:

Others feel the outbreak in recent years of bloggers who disregard established professional etiquette by weighing in before a show's official opening has damaged the reputation of the entire critical community. "Anyone in a position to make editorial comment is now regarded as the enemy," one pundit said.

"Disregard professional etiquette?" I find that wording offensive. "Professional" implies that we're getting paid, which we're not. And "disregard" assumes that bloggers are privy to the inner workings of the critical sanctum sanctorum, which I find arrogant and solipsistic.

But the larger, and more important, point is this: Should bloggers be reviewing shows during previews? I've done so myself, although I've made it plain that the show I was reviewing was in previews. My attitude has always been, if they're charging for admission, the ticket-buying public deserves to know what kind of show they're paying for. But if the bad word gets around before the creators have a chance to make changes, is that fair to the creative staff and the performers?

So, you're on a bobsled and it's snowing out, and it's cold. OK. Go.

Critics No Longer Tony Voters

Last night, the Tony Awards management committee announced that the so-called "First Night" critics -- the ones who (in theory) attend and review shows based on opening nights -- will no longer be eligible to vote in the Tony Awards process. The reason, according to a New York Times report, is that "...the committee concluded that it was a conflict of interest for journalists to vote on Tony contenders when they have a platform to champion a show in news and entertainment media."

So, who's left to vote for the Tonys? Producers, theater owners, publicists, actors, writers, designers, and other union and committee members. You know, the people who have absolutely no conflict of interest. As Robert Diamond, editor-in-chief of BroadwayWorld.com, tweeted last night shortly after the announcement, "As if voting for the Tony Awards needed to find a way to make the process even more insular/biased."

The Tony Awards have really never been more than a thin marketing ploy. (When was the last time the season's best musical actually won Best Musical?) However, as Diamond intimates, this decision brings the voting process in the wrong direction. There were only 800 or so people who voted for the Tonys before this decision, and now there will be only about 700, a reduction of about 13%. And one of the worst kept secrets in the industry is that many of those voters don't bother to see all the shows, although they are supposed to before voting in any particular category. Some shows in recent seasons have seen fewer than 1/3 of the eligible Tony voters show up to see the show. In addition, we're now even more likely to see skewed results: shows with larger casts and crew are even more likely to win because they have more people involved in them to vote, and fewer overall voters to offset that bias.

According to Adam Feldman, critic for Time Out New York, the idea that critics have a conflict of interest is "thin stuff indeed." He writes, "If anything, critics are among the voters least compromised by conflicts of interest, and most likely to vote objectively and fairly for the work they judge to be best." So why did the Tony committee really make this change? Feldman offers this rationale: "...[C]ritics, and indeed criticism, are inconvenient to the modern theater marketer: Old-fashioned in our insistence on quality, unreliable in our support for expensive projects and less necessary in light of the diffusion of information in the Internet age."

Cynical, to be sure, but I'm not so sure he's inaccurate. What do you think, dear reader? Is Feldman right? Is this part of a tacit marginalization of the critical mass? Or is this just sour grapes on the part of the slighted?

Tales of the City - The Musical

In the past, I've run into trouble when my passions have intersected. Obviously, I'm obsessed with musical theater, but I do have a few other overriding interests in life. I'm a complete Monty Python fanatic, for instance, and was initially thrilled to hear about Spamalot, only to be significantly disappointed in the actual quality of the show.

So, it was with a measured sense of caution that I approached The Eugene O'Neill Theater Center in Waterford, Conn. this past Saturday for a staged reading of the musical version of Tales of the City. I've been an ardent fan of Armistead Maupin's series of books back from the early '80s, and have pored through them numerous times since then. As with any musical from a beloved source, the creators of the Tales musical have quite a formidable task ahead of them.

Fortunately, those creators are themselves formidable in their own right, including Tony-winning librettist Jeff Whitty and director Jason Moore, both Avenue Q alums. The score is by some musical-theater newcomers: Scissor Sisters front man Jake Shears and keyboardist John Garden. In addition, the reading took place under the auspices of the National Musical Theater Conference which has seen quite a few notable shows emerge from its workshop process, including Nine, Violet, In the Heights, The Wild Party (Lippa), The Bubbly Black Girl Sheds Her Chameleon Skin, [title of show], The Story of My Life, and the aforementioned Avenue Q.

Obviously, Tales the musical is still under development, but I found much to enjoy and appreciate in the O'Neill's admittedly low-key production. The show's key asset thus far is Whitty's nimble book, which ably compresses the Tales story and cleverly intermingles its sprawling cast of characters. Whitty and director Moore also display sharp instincts for character parallels and song placement.

Would that the songs themselves were worthy of the setup that Whitty's book provides. So far, they're not, although there are some really terrific pieces in the second act. On the whole, there are currently too many bland, undifferentiated ballads, including "Don't Rush the Seasons," between Anna Madrigal (played here by the marvelous Candy Buckey) and Mona (the spitfire Mary Birdsong). The uptempo numbers are a bit more distinct and memorable, including "Welcome Home," a number for the society sissies that Michael (Christopher J. Hanke) and Jon (Josh Breckenridge) encounter at a party, as well as the act one finale, in which the characters exhort Mary Ann not to go back to Cleveland.

Most of the show comes from the first Tales book, but there are a few elements from the second book, More Tales of the City, including the pivotal character Mother Mucca (who gets the show-stoppingly profane number "Ride 'Em Hard," performed here with great gusto by Kristine Zbornik), as well as Michael's iconic "Letter to Mama," which receives a stirring rendition here from Chris Hanke.

With such a large number of important characters to flesh out, it seems inevitable that at this point in the show's development there would be some holes. In particular need of beefing up are Michael and Brian Hawkins (played here by my old friend Steve Kazee, showing a great deal more charisma and heart than in certain recent outings). This is especially true in the second act, which spends a bit too much time on the whole Norman Neal Williams plot. (Does NNW really need a song?) But here's the challenge that lies before Whitty, Moore, and their colleagues: the show is already running at about three hours. How can they cut the show down but solidify the story at the same time? Well, there are at least three or four boring ballads that could go: that would save at least 15 minutes right there.

But, from where I sit, the challenge of getting the show down to a manageable length while creating stronger characterizations is eminently surmountable. I'm not so sure about the score. It's not clear that Shears and Garden are really up to the task. It makes me wish that Moore and Whitty had gone with composer/lyricists with a bit more MT experience. Of course, it's quite possible that the barn at the O'Neill wasn't the ideal place to experience the score; although I was in the second row, I found myself straining at times to understand the lyrics because of the acoustics.

On the whole, Tales of the City shows great promise, and is already a fitting tribute to its beloved source material. As the show evolves, it would be great if it could hold on to as many members as possible of the O'Neill cast, which comprised an exceptional roster of pros, including the above-named performers as well as Betsy Wolfe (Mary Ann Singleton), Jeffrey Carlson (Beauchamp Day), and Jose Llana (various parts). Whatever the future of the show, rest assured that I'll be there whenever I can to witness and document its development.

Forever Plaid - 20th Anniversary Cinecast

A few weeks back, I wrote a rather dismissive post about the one-night-only 20th anniversary cinecast of Forever Plaid, which took place last night. I expressed skepticism as to whether this was the show that the movie-going public was really crying out to see. In response, the folks at NCM Fathom contacted me, inviting me to see the show and judge for myself.

Well, I went. And there were 17 people in the theater, including me and three friends, who had received comps. And this is in Boston, which is about as receptive a locale as any for a show such as this. I get the feeling that there were a lot of empty or near-empty theaters among the 500 or so that were part of the simulcast.

I had never seen Forever Plaid before; it just never really caught my interest. And now that I've seen the show, it still doesn't. On paper, the premise is promising: a four-part close-harmony men's group dies in a car crash, run off the road by a bus filled with Catholic school girls. But for some inscrutable reason, they're granted passage back to earth for one final performance, I guess to earn their place in heaven or some such reason. It really wasn't clear, and I'm frankly not moved to do any research to find out.

Overall, I found the show, created and directed by one Stuart Ross, to be a yawn-fest, repetitious beyond the limits of my patience. I guess I'm just not a fan of this category of song (e.g. "Three Coins in the Fountain," "Love is a Many Splendored Thing," "Matilda," "Rags to Riches" etc.) Perhaps if I were, I would have been more engaged. I was momentarily entertained during the sequence during which the Plaids pay tribute to "The Ed Sullivan Show," which contained some very fun moments, props, and performances. Original Plaid cast members Stan Chandler (Jinx) and David Engel (Smudge) were on hand, joined by Larry Raben (Sparky) and Daniel Reicherd (Frankie). A very talented foursome to be sure, but I found myself wishing I were seeing them in a show that gave them a chance to show what they can really do.

The cinecast included a pre-taped performance of the show, which again I found mostly dull, followed by a live segment featuring the cast members, with special guest star Carol Channing. During the after-show, the Plaids performed some doo-wop versions of "Memory" and "The Ballad of Sweeney Todd" that I actually found quite enjoyable. Then, my beloved Carol came onstage and sang "Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend," and even at the advanced age of 88, my girl Carol was an absolute delight. If they release the Forever Plaid movie on DVD, I'm hoping that they'll include the after-concert in the DVD extras. Because, although I can't imagine being in any hurry to watch Forver Plaid again, I would like to get another viewing of the doo-wop showtunes and Carol's star turn.

So, the night was not a total loss. Plus, I got to meet and spend time with my fellow bloggers Scot and Michael Colford (see their respective takes on Forbidden Plaid here and here) as well as my BGMC buddy Victor R-R-R-R-R-Ramos. But it makes me wonder what I'm going to think of The Marvelous Wonderettes when I see it next week, which strikes me as pretty darned similar to Forever Plaid. Oh well. It's all a part of my journey to offer as full a chronicle as possible of modern musical theater. The things I do for you, dear reader.

The Tin Pan Alley Rag - Berlin Meets Joplin

So, now that I've seen practically everything on Broadway, or at least anything that I have any interest in seeing, I've been turning my attention to Off Broadway and regional offerings.

I've been intrigued by The Tin Pan Alley Rag, which is being presented by the Roundabout at the Laura Pels Theater. I've heard virtually nothing about the show, other than the fact that it represents a fictional meeting between composers Scott Joplin and Irving Berlin. Here's an edited version of the Roundabout's publicity blurb:

Irving Berlin and Scott Joplin share an evening of fascinating stories and toe-tapping rhythms. The Tin Pan Alley Rag weaves their tales together, as two great icons discover they have more in common than they ever imagined.

Hmm. Seems like the sort of show that could either be very compelling or dreadfully academic. Librettist Mark Saltzman apparently interweaves songs from the Joplin and Berlin songbooks. I haven't come across Saltzman before, but it appears that he started writing for "Sesame Street," and contributed material to A...My Name is Alice. There's not much else on his resume that I recognize, so at this point Saltzman is a bit of an unknown variable.

One thing I noticed while researching TPAR was its top ticket price of $85. It got me thinking about the going rate for Off-Broadway musicals, so I did some poking around. Here's what I found:

• The Toxic Avenger: $71.50
• Altar Boyz: $75
• The Fantasticks: $76
• The Marvelous Wonderettes: $75
• Vanities: $75

It's interesting to note that the Roundabout recently announced a top ticket price for its upcoming Broadway revival of Bye Bye Birdie of $136.50. So the folks at the Roundabout seem to have no problem being on the cutting edge of ticket prices, even if they seem to be lagging somewhat in the show-quality department, at least of late. Will The Tin Pan Alley Rag be able to justify its $10 premium? I'll be seeing the show next week, along with Vanities, The Marvelous Wonderettes, and the second two plays in The Norman Conquests cycle. Watch this space for my reviews.

Sondheim's Road Show on CD

A new recording of a Stephen Sondheim show is always a reason to, if not celebrate, at least pay attention. And when the show itself is new, or at least contains a significant amount of fresh material, even better. So, although Road Show could not, in the strictest sense of the word, be called new, it does represent a chance to witness the latest work by our greatest living composer and lyricist.

As you may know, Road Show is the most recent version of a musical that Sondheim and librettist John Weidman have been working on for years. In fact, the score has already been recorded, under the title Bounce. Which means that we musical-theater mavens now have a terrific opportunity to compare the two recordings and witness how the show has developed over time.

Of course, the experience would be that much better if the show itself were any good. Alas, it is not. In comparing the two recordings, it's clear that the show has improved greatly since its out-of-town tryouts in Chicago and Washington, DC. Most of the changes and cuts have been for the better. But ultimately Road Show will likely take its place alongside such fascinating Sondheim failures as Anyone Can Whistle and Merrily We Roll Along: musical works that have a tremendous amount going for them, but somehow never have, and never will, work as shows.

As is true with most Sondheim scores, repeated hearings of the Road Show recording have revealed a great deal of substance and subtext. I was particularly struck by Sondheim's use of leitmotif, or in this particular case contrafactum: the songs "Gold" and "Land Boom" share the same melody, as do a few other sections of the show that all connote some sort of persuasion or salesmanship. Although most of the show's ballads remain colorless and dull, Sondheim has tuned up considerably the show's uptempo musical sequences, including "Addison's Trip" and "I Love This Town," which here becomes the rousing "That Was a Year." There have also been a number of wisely excised numbers in the transition from Bounce to Road Show, including "Opportunity," "What's Your Rush," and "Next to You."

But I'm still left with the same overall impression I had when I saw the show at the Public Theater: that this is a show that must have seemed compelling on paper, but that fails to bring its characters and subject matter to sympathetic life. (Read my review) The key problem with Road Show is that we don't care about these people. I watched the show and listened to the CD with academic interest, but I never found myself actually feeling for anyone, despite the cast of theater pros, led by Alexander Gemignani and Michael Cerveris.

Of course, Stephen Sondheim could stop working entirely and still be the most important figure in musical theater of the past 50 years. His contributions to the form have been immeasurable, both in terms of his own professional output and his influence on other creators. How fortunate we would be if he could someday create another show on par with his best. If not, his rich and ample body of work remains to satisfy and inspire for generations to come.

With Voices Raised - Happy 4th

Ten years ago today, I sang with the Boston Pops on national TV. It was quite a thrill. I was invited, along with ten of my friends from the Boston Gay Men's Chorus, to sing in the world premiere of a new piece by Stephen Flaherty and Lynn Ahrens, of Ragtime fame, called "With Voices Raised." Guest performers included Broadway performers, and married couple, Jason Danieley and Marin Mazzie. Click here to see a Youtube video of the TV performance.

"With Voices Raised" was commissioned by the Pops as a celebration of the new century, told through the filter of the struggle for equal rights by women, African Americans, and gays and lesbians. To underscore the civil-rights angle, the Pops invited guest singers from a number of local choruses, including the BGMC and a community gospel choir. We also recorded "With Voices Raised" on the Pops CD A Splash of Pops, along with the beautiful and moving "Lift Every Voice and Sing," the African-American national anthem.

Ten years later, it's interesting to note the progress that we've made as a society, including an African-American president, and five states that allow same-sex marriage. But it's also sobering to contemplate how much further we need to go: Don't Ask Don't Tell, The Defense of Marriage Act, forty-five states that don't allow same-sex marriage. So, on this Independence Day, let us indeed celebrate those freedoms for which we fought and that we hold dear. But let us also develop a firmer resolve to work towards and demand those rights that are still denied to us, and the lack of which makes us all less free.

Musicals in Mufti - Knickerbocker Holiday

One of the key themes of my musical-theater history course at the Boston Conservatory is that art is a product of the time in which it is created. A great way to witness this notion is to look at the Broadway musicals of the 1920s and 1930s.

The '20s were a time of hedonism and frivolity in the U.S., and most of the musicals of the time reflected this fact. Then came the Great Depression, which changed so many aspects of American life, including musical theater. Of course, there were far fewer shows, and many of them were just as fluffy and forgettable as those of he '20s. But now the shows didn't so much reflect the world around them as offer viewers escape from their increasingly dismal lives. 

However, with the seeming collapse of capitalism came an increasingly satiric impulse on the part of the creators of musical theater. Such mordant book musicals as Of Thee I Sing and Strike Up the Band, and such ironic revues as Pins and Needles and As Thousands Cheer revealed a desire on the part of the likes of George S. Kaufman, Moss Hart, Irving Berlin, and George and Ira Gershwin to speak out about the world around them, and to set the goings on into caustic relief.

Enter Kurt Weill, fresh from his productive but volatile collaborations with playwright Bertolt Brecht. Weill was no mere tunesmith, but rather a serious artist intent on using his gifts to illuminate the world around him. Before he went on to create such classics as Lady in the Dark and Lost in the Stars, Weill tested the Broadway waters with agitprop (Johnny Johnson) and allegory (Knickerbocker Holiday).

All of which is by way of introduction to the topic of today's lecture...er, I mean blog post, the York Theater Company's recent presentation of Knickerbocker Holiday as part of its "Musicals in Mufti" concert series. "Mufti" is a Middle Eastern word for "in plain clothes," which pretty much describes the atmosphere and purpose of the concert series: straightforward presentations of underrepresented shows without the frills. Think of it as Encores on a budget.

Knickerbocker Holiday was the first of two collaborations Weill had with poet and playwright Maxwell Anderson, the second being Lost in the Stars. Knickerbocker was not a major success, but it did run for 168 performances in 1938 and 1939, which at the time was enough for the show to make a modest profit. The score gave rise to two timeless classics, the plaintive "September Song," and the gorgeous "It Never Was You," one of my primary candidates for the most beautiful song ever written.

According to Stanley Green in his indispensable book, Broadway Musicals Show by Show, Knickerbocker Holiday was probably "the first musical to use [a] historical subject as the means by which views on contemporary matters could be expressed." The subject here was Peter Stuyvesant, autocratic governor of 1647 New Amsterdam, which we now know as New York. The theme is essentially totalitarianism versus democracy. Which makes sense, given that Weill was an expat from Nazi Germany, but the actual focus of the satire here is...Franklin Delano Roosevelt? Evidently, Maxwell and Weill were critics of FDR and the New Deal, and saw this show as a chance to comment on the president's supposedly dictatorial tendencies. Yeah, I don't get it either, and the muddled message of the show certainly doesn't make things plain.

The show, at least as presented here in Mufti form, was pretty static and unengaging, although I do give the folks at the York props for dusting off this rickety and nearly-forgotten show and giving it an airing. Much of Weill's score reflects the stand-and-sing tendencies of operetta, as do Maxwell's dense book and lyrics. The songs have little if any forward motion, and clearly reflect the influence of Brecht, telling seemingly unrelated stories and trafficking in pedantic aphorism. To be fair, Knickerbocker Holiday was written before the Rodgers and Hammerstein revolution, so it's a bit unfair to judge the show by modern standards. If the show is more akin to operetta than musical comedy, it's important to note that it arose at a time when a hybrid of the two was slowly emerging.

As for the satire, there are a few ham-handed jibes at political corruption, and some rather clumsy attempts to establish what it means to be an American. But there are quite a few elements of the show's message that have proved to be remarkably prescient: the notion that a leader is above the law (George W. Bush/Dick Cheney); the idea of profiteering by selling arms to the enemy (Iran/Contra); that imminent danger is a boon to government (9/11 and the Iraq War), that America grows fat and foolish without an enemy, so it's necessary for the government to create one (communism, terrorism), and the intolerance of legitimate opposition (The Iranian election). The moral of the show: all governments are stupid, incompetent, and corrupt, but at least democracy is efficiently corrupt.

Starting next semester, I'm adding staged readings of obscure but historically important musicals to my BoCo course. Seeing Knickerbocker Holiday in concert has helped me to lower my expectations as to the entertainment value of such an enterprise, although the primary value of the readings will be educational. The cast for Knickerbocker was about as good as you could hope for, comprising such seasoned professionals as Martin Vidnovic, Walter Charles, and William Parry. Also on hand were some admirable younger performers, such as Josh Grisetti, who starred in the York's hit production of Enter Laughing and will soon make his Broadway debut as Eugene Jerome in the upcoming revival of Neil Simon's Broadway Bound. If even this stellar cast of performers has a hard time bringing a creaky show to life, I think it's important for me and my students to modulate our expectations.

The Wiz at City Center

There aren't very many popular musicals that I haven't seen, even if it's just been a local production. But for some reason I had never seen The Wiz. I had read the script, heard the score, and seen snatches of the dreadful film version, but it wasn't until this past weekend that I actually saw The Wiz live on stage at City Center, under the auspices of Encores Summers Stars. 

I could have waited a bit longer.

Overall, I found The Wiz to be a yawn-fest. It would be far too easy to blame director Thomas Kail, but in truth there's only so much that he could do with this raw material, which is sorely lacking in so many respects. The culprits here are librettist William F. Brown and composer/lyricist Charlie Smalls. Because the main problems with the show are the paper-thin book, cardboard characters, and unremarkable score.

Sure, there's "Ease on Down the Road" and "Everybody Rejoice (Brand New Day)," the latter of which was written not by Smalls but by Luther Vandross. But few, if any, of the other songs really stick, nor do they especially illuminate anything interesting within the context of the show. Particularly pointless are "The Feeling We Once Had" and "A Rested Body is a Rested Mind," both sung here to little effect by the otherwise wonderful LaChanze. To be fair, the underwhelming impact she makes in this show is likely to be a function of the underwritten nature of the roles she plays (Aunt Em and Glinda).

Then again, all the parts in The Wiz are underwritten. Act one is merely a perfunctory succession of uninspired numbers introducing the various iconic characters, with precious little development in between. There are quite a few strong performances in the City Center production, particularly from James Monroe Iglehart as the Lion, Joshua Henry as the Tin Man, Dawnn Lewis as Addaperle, and Tichina Arnold as Evillene, all of whom do their best to inject life into what is essentially a moribund property. Not doing the material any favors was Orlando Jones in the title role. I would much rather have seen the phenomenal Colman Domingo, who has replaced Jones for the last week of the run. The admittedly talented Jones tries gamely, but to little lasting effect.

Since I pay virtually no attention to popular music, I had never before heard of Ashanti, who plays Dorothy. From the crowd reaction, I guess she must be pretty popular, but I found her singing here bland. Plus, her acting skills and stage presence were negligible, made all the more obvious by the pros surrounding her. Of course, the character of Dorothy in this show is merely a cipher, a thin pretext for the goings on surrounding her. At the end of the show, with the song "Home," Ashanti finally gets to show why she was cast in the first place: to sing long, loud notes. But along the way, the thinly drawn character, combined with her lack of presence, make for a rather anonymous leading lady.

There were certainly some highlights to the production, including Andy Blankenbuehler's vigorous choreography. Blankenbuehler is much more in his idiom here than he was in 9 to 5, the choreography to which I found laughably inappropriate. And there were some rather colorful and ingenious costumes and set pieces, particularly during "Brand New Day." Plus, it was rather eerie to see this show two days after the death of Michael Jackson. Of course, there's the fact that he starred in the lamentable movie version, but there were also numerous references to him in the choreography, although it's not clear whether those had been there prior to Jackson's death.

The Wiz plays at City Center through July 5th. I wouldn't be in any overwhelming hurry, if I were you. But if you happen to be in the city, and have nothing else that you would rather see, and someone hands you a free ticket, and offers to drive you to and from the theater, and promises to simonize your car while you're watching the show...