What a season for Michael Jacksons! Michael R. Jackson, Tony-winning phenom (remember that show? anyone? about tennis?) and creator of brave new worlds of musical theatre, has given modern MT a gift of a new show, new in every conceivable way, and reminded everyone in the scene how important it is support new works and artists. Because it could produce THIS! His intimate and clever and unique show follows Usher, a Black queer man working as an usher at The Lion King, who’s writing a musical…about a Black queer writer writing a musical…about a Black queer writer writing a musical.

I feel like a big book of cliches talking about how original this show is, but it’s true, and I’m not even talking about the hysterical jabs at Lion King and its audiences. We have a self-identified fat queer Black man being open and honest about his family and how unsupportive and sometimes cruel their treatment of him is; about his dreams and his demons, personified by the rest of the ensemble cast as his Thoughts; and about his sexuality, like full on not holding anything back. There’s sex between two men on a Broadway stage! The ancient old lady near me busted out a ‘well I never!’ but she loved it!

Usher quickly establishes himself as a sympathetic character. We’ve heard great things about Jacquel Spivey but he was out, and his understudy Edwin Bates was ridiculously good and a gorgeous singer. You can’t not love the guy for laying bare literally everything he could possible lay bare, including his bottom. As he struggles through living in New York with a dream that hasn’t yet come true, his interactions with his Greek chorus of Thoughts often trying to drag him down are incredibly easy to identify with by anyone human. Surely everyone has had similar experiences with self-doubt, maybe self-hatred, but wowie zowie has anyone so openly put them on literal display like this? It’s so intimate and raw.

You get right up inside Usher’s emotional life, his fears and self-doubts, and self-loathing, and his family struggles. It feels like eavesdropping, like you should be apologizing and turning around being like ‘don’t worry I didn’t see anything you’re fine!’ instead of paying hundos of dollars to watch. The intensity of the intimacy is astounding, and I think it’s one of the main reasons it caused such a storm.

The score is so much fun, hilarious and joyous at times, heartbreaking and soulful at others. Why was the most beautiful melody in the show, the one that stuck in my brain the most after hearing it only once, given to the lyric “the second-wave feminist in me is at war with the dick-sucking Black gay man”? Because this MJ is a genius who says ‘why tf not!’

The gloriously bold writing doesn’t just focus its power on the character, but of course turns the tables on the audience – but subtly. One of Usher’s Thoughts at some point says point blank how the topics they’re discussing makes it harder to allies to feel easily supportive, as the issues are less obviously things allies attach themselves to, not about slavery or Jim Crow or ‘intersectional issues like police violence’. It’s so blatant and ballsy, how it calls out the pitfalls of the people who fancy themselves decent allies, to show how they need to do more and care about actual people and not just issues that are easy to care about. The whole show very much feels like a ‘oh you want to support Black talent and art? How about this’ kind of thing to the stereotypical rich white audiences. Almost daring the audience to like it, or not, and think about why. And we liked it, and we loved it.

INFORMATION

The Lyceum Theatre belongs in an abandoned farm in rural Alabama, not on Broadway. It needs to close down and get refurbed like YESTERDAY. Move this show to a better theatre and take the needed time to build bathrooms that human-sized humans can use. And for the love of god get rid of the mens room in the balcony that opens FROM THE AISLE, wtaf? Who built that?

Also the Lyceum balcony is falling apart already — our row was on a slant, like we were falling towards one side and one buttcheek was higher than the other. literally what. And people are paying so much money for that.

Leaving the theatre, we saw The Real Michael R. Jackson! We got to talk to him and I said some stupid things as I do! What a treat!

The post Talking Bout That Big Black Queer-Ass American Broadway Show: We Saw ‘A Strange Loop’ appeared first on Laughfrodisiac.

Okay yes The Minutes, Tracy Letts’ latest Broadway play, has recently closed, and I was just too busy to write about it in time for you to read the review and still be able to go ‘oh I want to see this, I will go to Telecharge.com right now and be able to magically use that shithole of a website from 1991 and actually successfully checkout before the show closes and/or I die from frustration.’ Sorry, but hey, what a weird show! If it was still open, I would have recommended checking it out but not paying too much.

The Minutes is a real-time-plus-flashback-also-in-real-time local council meeting (omg I’m forgetting what they are called in USA, what’s happened to me…borough meeting? it’s a small baby government of people who think they have a lot of power and honestly have more than they should) where the new guy is trying to play catch-up with WTAF is going on with this group. Noah Reid – Patrick from Schitt’s Creek – is beyond perfectly cast as the earnest newbie who you can tell makes dad jokes and is friendly, committed to doing his job well, and eager to correct people’s grammar (‘sometimes it’s who!!’).

Right from the start, you get a bad feeling about the council head Tracy Letts, who is just as incredible an actor as he is a writer. Even without the ominous thunderstorm, you’d know from his first scene where he’s kibbutzing politely over the refreshments with the new guy not to trust him, and when he asks the new guy what his baby daughter’s name is, you get the urge to yell “don’t tell him!!” It’s so subtle but he conveys that sinister sense that things aren’t what they seem.

Noah’s commitment to doing his job means not letting Tracy (we are screwing character names) and the rest of the council skirt past the whole ‘incident’ that happened the week before, the one that drove a fellow member to not show up tonight. Someone mentions it in passing, and Noah’s like ‘well what happened last week, remember, this is my first meeting?’ and everyone’s like ‘FORGET IT LA LA LA WE DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING’. So Noah has Jessie Mueller (NOT SINGING AT ALL) read the minutes (drink!) of the meeting from the week before, which is his right. She reads them and when it gets to the key part, apparently there’s a transcript she made that’s attached as an appendix. Guys, there’s a whole lot of talk about the technicalities of minutes and appendices and transcripts that the Tony-winner likes to do just for completeness sake, and it sounds like it would be a long sigh of a boring mess, but it’s actually gripping. You’re like YES READ THE F-ING TRANSCRIPT, THE APPENDIX IS PART OF THE MINUTES, OF COURSE IT’S PART OF IT!

What comes to light about the conflict the week before focuses on the man who isn’t at the present meeting, the council member with the conscience. Turns out he wanted the council to officially recognize the town’s terrible racist history, the truth that everyone ignores, that’s the opposite of what’s in the popular founding mythology and the town song. The real story is, as we guessed, full of slaughter of the Native population. All of this sounds very believable and without a doubt is the same story for many American towns. But taking this play’s treatment of this subject beyond the recognizable and into the symbolic is the strength of the connection this town, and this council, has to their fake history. Their unwillingness to give up their fake history is treated more like a necessity, a powerful all-encompassing metaphorical spirit that goes beyond what you’d expect in real life, but reflects the strength these false histories have over us. People like this cling to them when letting go would mean also losing a sense of balance in the world, the world they/we created where we benefit from the lies.

So they WILL NOT let them go! The play ends super weird, like war paint and hooting weird, and it’s a little unbelievable that Noah would fold so easily, but maybe I’m projecting. And sure it’s not (hopefully) representative of what happens at your average council meeting, but the sentiment at play is pretty much what’s going on in every town in America. We love a Tracy Letts joint to make us feel bad about the world!

The post The Minutes on Broadway: You Wish Your Local Council Was This Bonkerballs (you really don’t) appeared first on Laughfrodisiac.

And yes, expectations tend to be low when someone is tasked with stepping into the shoes of Robin Williams in a part as legendary as this. The only way around that is to go in a somewhat different direction. And while the heart of the character is still there, Rob McClure’s version is different enough to sidestep direct comparisons so the resulting response is overwhelmingly positive. His Daniel seems younger and fresher, more chaotic and manic (hard to imagine yes), more fun-loving even than Robin’s, who showed at least some underlying seriousness from the start. Rob’s interpretation is well-suited to the exuberance that musical theatre can produce. He is an incredible performer who clearly gives himself fully to every second of performance, in a way that must be exhausting but he never shows it.

So his take on Daniel is slightly different, but without other changes, including to the other characters and the story deets, it would be another Pretty Woman fiasco, which no one wants. Luckily, there are interesting and well-made changes throughout, not enough to bother anyone who wanted to see what they know, but enough to distinguish it from the movie and give it a reason to exist. The best character updates were to the characters of Daniel’s brother Frank, his boyfriend, and Daniel’s social worker Mrs. Sellner, and the best modernizations were to the cooking scene and the raptor rap. Frank, played in the movie by Harvey Fierstein, is another performance that simply cannot be copied, especially when the original guy is a Broadway guy and so should not be copied because then you’d be like why didn’t they just hire him, he’s like a block away. Luckily. Brad Oscar has taken the role and, as he always does, made it hysterical. Here, Frank’s big thing is that when he lies, he yells. Given how much his brother’s situation forces him to lie throughout the show, this problem becomes forking hilarious. It was by far one of my favorite bits. His boyfriend is played by a very fun J. Harrison Ghee, a younger and cooler guy obsessed with divas and Dreamgirls. The scene of all his potential inspirations for the Doubtfire disguise is well done (forking Maggie Thatcher lol), and it was pretty funny to realize two Princess Dianas were on Broadway stages at the same time (rip Diana the Musical).

For Mrs. Sellner, the transition to musical theatre from the movie version of her drab, serious social worker could have been a clunker. But by casting Charity Angel Dawson, a motherforking BELTER, they enhanced the role by giving Daniel a nightmare sequence about his upcoming court date, in which Charity, well, belted up a storm in a hellscape. Such a good way to let her sing in a way that didn’t break her character.

As for modernizing the almost-30-year-old film (I KNOW), a super clever bit was in reworking the famous scene where Daniel tries to cook for the first time, and burns his boobs. Yeah, the boobs still burn (how do they do!), but the scene cleverly has him watching various YouTube videos from online chefs, which of course the wonderfully game ensemble acts out. Such a great move that provided amazing humor. As for the boring old man’s TV show + the raptor rap (which I can do on request if you want, should I get a Patreon for this very purpose), we see more of the dreadful show, and the raptor rap scene is changed to have Daniel using a loop machine left on the set. He creates the most incredible looping beats and rhythms and sings 100 parts over it in a moment of absolute genius, giving Rob his best moment in a show full of him having star-making moments.

The joke-filled book keeps the pace at a nice clip, with enough of the famous quotes (“it was a run-by fruiting!”) to placate the masses and enough new bits (“pecs and guns and geese better scurry”, my fave) to lift it above copied and pasted dreck like, well, Pretty Woman. (Although for my taste they should have nixed one or two more quotes from the movie (like Miranda’s “the whole time? the whole time? the whole time??” which no one can deliver like Sally Field and then if they could deliver it like her, it would be an annoying copy) but that’s coming from someone who knows the movie by heart.) Although Jenn Gambatese tries her best, and her best is greatness, the character of Miranda comes across as just as much of a wet blanket here, even though she seems even more justified than in the movie. It’s a nice move to make Miranda a fashion designer instead of an architect (and they have fun playing with that in Act II), and she gets an even younger hot love interest (whose weight-lifting scene seemed unnecessary until Rob’s physical comedy with the weights he couldn’t lift, literally the funniest part of the show), but being the straight man can be a thankless role. (Actually, the actual funniest part of the entire show is when the lights lifted at intermission and my husband said “wow I can’t believe they got Amy Klobuchar to do this show.” omg.)

Aside from Rob, the cast highlight by a mile is Analise Scarpaci’s Lydia, who is pitch-perfect throughout. She has a way to make the big emotions of musical theatre seem completely natural. Unlike…I hate to say this…but the worst part of the show — little Natalie. I KNOW IT’S SO MEAN TO SPEAK ILL OF THIS CHILD BUT SHE WAS VERY BAD. Every time she spoke it was unbelievably grating and I almost screamed several times “SOMEONE PUT A SOCK IN THAT CHILD’S MOUTH.” None of Mara Wilson’s sweetness, just all grate grate grate. Honestly this is a direction fault – who told her to deliver every single word like she was imitating SNL characters imitating Borscht Belt comedians.

As for the elephant in the room, I think they handled the fact that the premise is a man dressing as a woman well. Andre, Frank’s boyfriend, dismisses the idea that what Daniel is doing is anything like what trans people do, and rightly so – it’s not. To suggest that this cis man dressing up in a disguise is in any way related to trans people living honestly in the opposite of disguise seems offensive. And, just as with Tootsie, the cis man’s donning such a disguise is shown as patently wrong. Obviously I am not the authority here, but it seemed like a satisfactory way to comment without getting dragged down into something that would only put the two concepts on equal footing, when they aren’t.

INFORMATION

Mrs. Doubtfire plays the Stephen Sondheim theatre, which makes me giggle because, like, he def didn’t write this.

The show is currently on hiatus to account for covidtastrophes and should be back on March 14.

I have never seen ANYTHING theatrical managed as smoothly as the vaccine-proof checking was for this show. As everyone lined up outside to enter, various staff members walked down the line to check proof of vaccination, so it was done super quickly and not just at the door, adding zero waiting time while out in the cold. They stamped the hand of everyone once checked (with the most adorable stamp, of the Doubtfire silhouette) so that to actually enter the building you just flashed your stamped hand. Having the staff go through the line and not just do this at the entrance made all the difference; it’s so simple and straightforward to do it this way but you’d be surprised (I am continually surprised) at how stupidly other venues do it. Broadway I wuv you.

The post Mrs. Doubtfire Musical is So Much Better than it has Any Right to Be appeared first on Laughfrodisiac.

Last week I had the privilege of seeing the completely original new Broadway musical Flying Over Sunset, which just this week announced a premature closing. The early end to its run is not surprising, but it’s still a bummer. Even though this show could have used a few more swipes of the red pen, I am very grateful that it made it to Broadway and that I got to see it, since it’s rare that a musical with a brand new score that isn’t based on any known entity makes it this far, and that is worth celebrating.

Of course, we could be celebrating more and for longer if it had an out-of-town tryout to work out its shortcomings (like answering the main question of ‘why though’), but what’s an out-of-town tryout to the big names involved in this! A new score from Tommy Kitt and Michael Korie?? Motherforking James Lapine writing the book and directing?! Who was going to clear their throat at that meeting to say ‘um…it needs a little more work’? NO ONE. When this show was first announced, I was all in like Luke on his first date with Lorelai. (His not realizing at that point how much of a shit-show her parents and Christopher (*ptoi ptoi*) would cause in his life = my not realizing before seeing FOS that other people’s trips are hard for an audience to enjoy.) The names of the lead characters the story would focus on — Cary Grant, Aldous Huxley, and Clare Boothe Luce — were almost as amazing as the names of the actors portraying them — Tony Yazbeck, Harry Hadden-Paton (HHP), and Carmen Cusack. I MEAN! Modern Broadway royalty. For my recent trip home for the holidays, I think I secured my tickets to this (LincTix for the everlasting win!) before my flight. FFS, Tony Yazbeck as Cary Grant is some galaxy brain thinking casting right there. WHEW I WAS IN. Oh…what’s that??? The story is a fictitious account of those three real people taking LSD together…??? It sounds amazing.

And while it could have been, and while parts are great, the dramatic question is lacking. Stuff is happening, but without a reason or intention driving it forward. Another problem is, as fun and amazing and original and crazy as that concept sounds, it’s hard to make someone else’s acid trip compelling. If any medium can do it, it’s the Broadway musical, and parts of this show soared. The opening number, which has the cast shuffling gracefully around the gigantic stage keeping the changing rhythm with their coordinated footfalls, created a classic sense of theatrical magic that filled my heart with joy and my eyes with tears. It was gorgeous, this most compelling and most promising opening I’ve seen in years.

From there, Act I stayed somewhat steadily at an enjoyable level as it focused on introducing the three characters one at a time, letting us learn who they are, what their story is, and why they’re taking LSD. It has the strongest musical numbers, with some beauties from Kitt and Korie. And all three of the lead performances are glorious to watch, as these three actors always are. HHP’s pharmacy-set scene of his first trip is a load of fun, as he imagines Botticelli masterpieces coming to life in a goofy-yet-semi-highbrow form of a trip. HHP is wonderful back on the Beaumont stage (petition for him to star in everything Lincoln Center does) as Aldous Huxley, nailing the desired portrayal of him as brainy but buoyant. Then, the show’s highlight apart from the opening number is Yazbeck’s intro scene, when his Cary Grant asks his wife’s psychiatrist to give him what he’s been giving her. (It’s not a promise to comply with HIPAA, that’s for sure.) His first use of LSD in the doctor’s office takes him back to his childhood in a tap-dancing extravaganza with Atticus Ware as his younger self (when his name was still Archibald Leach (fun fact: I just watched ‘His Girl Friday’ and Cary Grant’s character makes a reference to a guy named Archie Leach)) as he once performed for money on the English streets. Anytime Tony taps it’s a treat, and this is his moment to shine in this show. It should have happened more often, because HOT DAMN. The emotionally charged tapping and whirling of these two dancers is spellbinding, a true telling of story through movement. Yazbeck should be acknowledged as the Cary Grant of our time, not just on stage, because, again, HOT DAMN, just as Robbie Fairchild should be internationally recognized as the Gene Kelly of our time.

In Carmen’s solo scene, she gets a beautiful song to sing, as well as a LSD-induced orgasm to perform onstage, so that’s something you don’t see every day. Cusack is such a gorgeous MT performer that you sometimes look past the fact that Clare Boothe Luce kind of seems like a shitty republican who would still be a republican today. Her drug-induced visions of her deceased mother and daughter are heartbreaking emotional moments that cut clear across the theatre.

But, other parts, too many parts, do not soar, despite the characters’ getting so high they were like ‘oh she’s meeting Jesus? cool’ ‘oh I’m a giant rocket ship penis? cool’. The second act lagged, when somehow the magic that should have occurred when you brought the three of them together to experience their new fave drug was replaced by nonsense, head-scratching, and a disappointment at what could have been. In the early scenes, it was suggested that they were each facing an important moment in their lives, feeling that no one was listening, unsure of their footing at the next stage, dealing with frustration or stagnancy and needing an outlet. Despite their guide friend (Robert Sella) pointing out point blank “oh you all seem to be at a crossroads” in a kind of cringe-y blatant way, the story itself never capitalized on that tie binding them, when doing so could have been the grounding element the story needed. It needed something to defend the why of this story, to elevate it into a sum greater than the separate generally pleasant parts.

Without that dramatic element, the second act feels untethered, as song by song gets further away from a central feeling of importance en route to stoned nonsense. The song that has Tony’s Cary imagining dancing with his recent costar Sophia Loren is insanely unnecessary and something I can’t believe wasn’t cut. Same for Cary’s song about imagining himself as a giant penis rocketship in his delirious state. My reaction was very Mark-Evan-Jackson-as-Shaun-the-demon saying “You guys are seeing this, right?! I’m not crazy!” Nothing really comes of the three characters coming together for their trip (except the men almost drowning, which almost gave me a panic attack because oh my god you NEED SOMEONE SOBER WITH YOU IF YOU GO SWIMMING WHILE SUPER FUCKING HIGH JFC), which adds more questions of why to the story. I hate to say it but James Lapine, legend that he is, needed a collaborator to ensure that this story was in top shape before it got to Broadway. I’m still so glad it was made, but it could have and should have been stronger.

INFORMATION

Flying Over Sunset closes on January 16.

To attend a Broadway show, you must show proof of full vaccination. On the way inside, there are staff members checking your vaccination documentation. (I had the NHS barcodes in my virtual wallet as well as a PDF printout — both worked at different shows.) At all the shows I attended, the vax checking was swift, not causing a delay to entry. You must wear a mask at all times. The staff actually cares that you wear a mask, and properly. All bars are closed because Broadway staff realizes that if you are drinking, your mask would necessarily be off, and we don’t want that. THANK YOU BROADWAY.

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