"Falsettos" Revival on Broadway: March Me to Another Theatreby Randi / January 11, 2017
Last night, a show that defied all odds closed on Broadway, or really we should pronounce it “Br’dway”, as I and others lucky enough to see this show will forever do. “Oh, Hello”, a ‘play’ that makes you laugh even if you just repeat the title like an old kvetcher and fry that last syllable, should never had gone to Br’dway, should never have been the recommended pick of the most esteemed critics, and should never have been one of the funniest things its audiences ever saw. But it was! I still don’t know how to explain this show to people who didn’t see it, because it’s impossible. So I guess it’s kind of stupid that that’s exactly what I’m going to do now. Mostly I just want to document the jokes I remember for posterity, while bidding farewell to some of the most glorious hours I’ve experienced in the theatre, and in 2016 in general. It was a bright spot on an otherwise dark and gloomy year. Or, as we say now, “brit spot”.
My uncontrollable laughter started from outside the theatre, because the jovial and game man checking tickets at the door greeted everyone by saying – you guessed it – “Oh, hello!” Adorable! The actual show begins (long interjection: it did close yesterday and so I should be talking about it in the past tense, but there is news that a recent performance was taped and will be br’dcast for a televisorial viewing!! Unlike with “Falsettos”, I’m beyond thrilled that I can see it again and don’t mind that I paid a godforsaken amount of money for our Christmas-week tickets when I can see it again for free) with Gil and George introducing themselves in front of the drawn red curtain, looking like a regular stand-up special except with two old geezers instead of the typically young white male comedians who dominate standup. (Of course, they are two youngish white male comedians underneath all that makeup and old-man hair and costumes of the insane, but they are so immersed in these beloved characters of theirs that I quickly forgot). Immediately we learn their schtick. Gil and George are goofy, they clip the first syllable of most of their words and stress the second one (“Br’dway”), which doesn’t seem like anything but it keeps getting funnier and funnier somehow, and they walk funny like old men. There’s not much more to it than that. Like Luke though, I was all in from the start. I’m obsessed with John Mulaney’s flawless standup (two on Netflix you must watch) and if Amy Poehler can love Nick Kroll, so can and do I, so I was primed to enjoy myself. But it was so much better than I thought it would be.
First, the two men introduce themselves to the audience in front of the closed curtain in a prologue of sorts. Nick Kroll plays Gil Faizon, “charmed I’m sure”, a down on his luck actor who didn’t book an important gig as the CBS mascot, and John Mulaney is George St. Geegland, a writer of tenuous ability who wrote the play within a play that the two will perform later in the show – about two old men who live together on the Upper West side, named George and Gil. The ‘real’ George and Gil are, of course, also Upper West Siders – “the coffee breath of neighborhoods.” George introduces himself by saying “for someone who is so frequently mistaken for a Jew and a woman, I am neither.” George and Gil traipse about the front of the stage just as you would imagine two elderly men with shoddy hips would. They proclaim their love for the theatre and their intentions to pay “homepage” to the great theatrical traditions. George mentions that it will be a treat “for anyone familiar with our oeuvre, which means ‘egg.’” They go on to boast about their Br’dway home, the Lyceum theatre, which has housed works by such greats as Tennessee Williams and his sister, Serena.
As they move about the stage, you notice more detail about their costumes. George goes for a musty professor look, with corduroys, a turtleneck, an old man sweater vest, and a heavy tweed jacket from which you can almost smell the mothballs and b.o. no doubt emanating. Gil is more casual in dark green pants of unknown origin, a brown leather jacket that looks older than he is, a pink shirt that screams Miami circa 1982 coming through the zipper of his pants, and sandals with white socks. I would have been hysterical even if they were silent. Every single movement Nick Kroll made was perfection. Just the way his resting face would subtly resemble a main drooler in a nursing home was fantastic. Mulaney was less developed in all the depth of detail that Kroll had, but still great. If this wasn’t a ridiculous comedy spoof Kroll’s character preparation would be award-worthy. So unnecessary.
Then the curtain rises to reveal an intricate set, with an exterior of an apartment building on one side of the stage and the detailed interior of an apartment on the other, plus a salon in the back. Gil notes to the audibly surprised audience, not expecting such a set for such a show, “This is the first time an audience’s expectations were exceeded by having a set.” They explain that they retrieved all the various set pieces from past shows that had been on Br’dway. Some came from an August Wilson play that they can’t remember the name of; that’s why the picture of ‘their family’ hanging on the wall is of a black family. The salon was courtesy of Steel Magnolias, of course, with its chairs with the hair dryer helmets attached and the wall of products. The trapdoor, from the Diary of Anne Frank. (There’s a lot of humor that is awful like that so you have to be along for the ride.) The geezers get the audience used to the serious theatre they’re about to throw at us (not) by going over some of their favorite theatrical traditions. George talks about how obvious it is when someone is going to die by the end of a play because they’ll cough in their handkerchief and then open it very conspicuously and it’ll have red blood on it. True! He of course demonstrates how this plays out, and as the dying cougher he holds up a blood-stained handkerchief for all to see. Gil demonstrates another way overused theatre trick, and one of my favorite parts of the show, the ‘one-sided phone call’, or as he says it, “the win-sided phin call.” Asking their (unseen/not real) Indian lighting intern Ravi, “one of those new kinds of Indians”, for melodramatic lighting, Gil performs this theatrical ploy of repeating information from an offstage source so the audience knows what you’re learning. First, you get a phone that no one would ever have; Gil produces an old-fashioned rotary phone. Then, you fiddle with it way too much ‘to show the audience that you’ve been working with it all week’. Then the conversation occurs as such:
*Ring ring*
Gil: Oh, hello.
*Pause*
Gil: Charmed I’m sure.
*Pause*
Gil: The police?
*Pause*
Gil: Oh, you’re the police.
I’m still laughing at that. It’s so stupid! Yet it was hilarious! That’s what most of the show is like, really. They share a lot of their backstory as friends and roommates and all their misfortunes and misadventures, and then they perform George’s play for us. It’s hard to tell where the play ends and the play-within-the-play begins, because nothing really changes. It’s still the two of them being preposterous. They talk about past successes and failures, and they give us a rundown of their goings-on from various decades, all of which seemed to involve Steely Dan music and, their favorite thing in the world, “c’caine.” They talk about c’caine a lot, and against all odds their repeated pronunciation of that word gets funnier and funnier.
The play versions of George and Gil resurrect a radio show they once had called “Too Much Tuna”, where they chat with celebrities at a dirty local diner where even the coffee is gray, and feed them freaking enormous tunafish sandwiches. At least I think that was in the play; like I said, it’s hard to discern what was written by George and what was the main show, especially because the gimmick of that radio show – on station WOLO (say it out loud) – is exactly what they performed for real every day. George and Gil sit down at their diner table and start their radio show, and glory over the greatness of tunafish. “It really is the queen of the sandwich meats,” they say. SANDWICH MEATS. Then they bring out their special guest for the show, to the audience’s delight. So every performance, a random person from the audience or, more commonly, the biggest celebrity in the audience would be brought up on stage to try to make sense of what was going on and what George and Gil are saying and try not to just sit there laughing hysterically while they ask if you do cuhcaine. At my show, our celebrity guest was Hank Azaria, which was a fantastic surprise. He talked about how he part-owns a horse, a ridiculous fact that George and Gil brought up later in the show. Hank also talked about how his brother was once asked to join the Ramones, when they were first starting. Gil responded, “I was asked to join Simon and Garfunkel, because I was equal parts Simon and Garfunkel.” The improv throughout the show but particularly at this segment is beyond impressive.
In the play-within-the play, or maybe in real life, Gil had a problem with raccoons. (Rickoons.) He somehow always found himself having relationships with them, and was currently embroiled in a tumultuous affair with a r’ccoon named Lisa (who runs the Twitter for the show’s surprise guests, for real). Somehow this led to them talking about Shakespeare in the Park – maybe that’s where they met, I can’t remember the logic of this show, I was crying the entire time. “Did you ever go to Sh’kspeare in the Park?”, they ask. They discuss “Sh’kspeare” and how overrated he is. “Sh’kspeare is such a hack. Romeo sees the girl and just does a quick take – ‘Oh, ya dead? I’m not gonna check if you’re just sleeping I’ll just kill myself.’ Hack.”
Who on earth knows or remembers how, but the performance of George’s play leads into another unexpected yet familiar theatre trope – the nightmare ballet. As crazy as it sounds, it looked even crazier. There was all kinds of crap happening with the lights and ghosts and set pieces and all of it was like an LSD-trip — which they touched on at one point, referring to an “LSD cult now known as SoulCycle”. They wake up from this insanity laying down on the floor, unable to move after what they’ve just been through given their advanced age. Prostrate (a word I imagine they would love saying and confusing with something close to it), they take turns yelling up to Ravi, the lighting intern, for help. It’s one of those jokes that is funny but somehow gets funnier the longer it goes on, once it reaches and then passes the point at which you go, annoyed, ‘oh it has to stop now, right?’ noooope. “RAVI! IT’S GEORGE. FROM THE FLOOR.” “RAVI! It’s Gil. Charmed I’m sure.”
I have a vague memory of “Too Much Tuna” getting picked up for more episodes and so they celebrate their success with new outfits. Mulaney comes out in a very slimly tailored beige belted expedition ensemble which he perfectly terms “Pussy Safari”. Gil shares that all he aspires to own one day is a ‘thundercoat.’ “A what?”, George asks. “A thundercoat,” Gil responds. “For a dog. When there’s a thunderstorm, and they get scared…it helps them not be scared….Well they still get scared.”
This show had no right being as hysterical as it was. I’ll remember things every so often, like how Gil found himself out in the audience at one point and saw a young boy sitting on the aisle, and asked him in his normal voice, “Are you enjoying ANY of this?” Or how Gil once worked as a stand-in for mashed potatoes ‘so they could get the lighting right for photo shoots’. How do they think of this stuff?! I can’t wait to see the taped performance (details for the airing have not yet been announced) and I hope all of you watch it too, but really there was nothing like seeing this absurdity live onstage. Whatever’s in the Lyceum next has, somehow, astonishingly, inexplicably, big shoes to fill.
Theatre:
The Lyceum Theatre gets my vote for Br’dway theatre most in need of a serious refurbishment. The only bathroom is down a staircase only reached from inside the orchestra, which is insane to begin with. But there are maybe 4 really old stalls in a bathroom lingering from the 1970s. Because of this, the theatre boasts the longest bathroom lines of any theatre. Be warned. You’d think the Shuberts could afford a little upgrade. Eye roll emoji.
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“Hamilton” on the West End, Revisited
It’s Theatre Thursday! Today we’re taking another look at the West End production of “Hamilton: An American Musical”, currently playing in London until probably the end of time.
Last week, I got to see “Hamilton” again. I’m very lucky to have seen it multiple times because, well first of all because it’s the best, but secondly, and more importantly for our purposes here, there’s not much that reviews coming out at this point can say about this show so it’s great to talk instead about how this production is evolving. If I read one more London critic reviewing it anew now and making a “I got to be in the room where it happened’ joke I will vomit. Well first I’d find out where he got his morning coffee and I’d throw it in his face (not when it’s too hot of course I’m not a monster) and I’d be like DID YOU THINK YOU WERE BEING ORIGINAL??? And then I’d vomit. Luckily we don’t have to get into all the details about what this show is about or the basics of the elements because I’m prettayyy prettayyy sure you know already, and if you don’t you can read past reviews here and here. So we get to talk about the London production and how it has improved, or worsened, since it was in previews.
It goes without saying, but I’m going to say it anyway, that “Hamilton” is beyond incredible, with a mind-boggling, flawless score and a captivating book. There’s nothing else like it. Whatever problems there are with certain production-specific aspects, it’s hard to do anything to the show that actually hurts it. It’s strong enough to withstand some issues here and there and still be among the most astonishing theatrical experiences you’ve ever had. So in my nitpicking, remember that I’m nitpicking; I’m still talking about a superb show.
Let’s start with the good. Several things have improved since my last viewing, I’m happy to say. One improvement for me was with our main man, Jamael Westman. His Alexander Hamilton is still reserved and less energetic than Lin’s, but whereas last time it made me mad (I wanted to grab him by the shoulders and be like WOULD YOU JUST PLEASE…give me the recipe! (‘Friends’ joke! I didn’t want a recipe I wanted him to show some enthusiasm but I had to finish the quote)), this time I understood it a little more. I still prefer the energy of more dynamic, vivacious Hams but I get what he’s doing. I do have to clarify, though, that while I’m praising his overall interpretation as having improved, his performance this night did have a few bad moments where the lack of energy wasn’t an acting choice but was a failing. Sometimes his words weren’t even audible. If the audience didn’t know the words, we wouldn’t have known that he had said anything at certain moments. Either he was miked poorly or he was just exhausted.
Probably the biggest standout for me was Cleve September’s Laurens/Phillip. Before, I thought he was fine, and I thought Obioma Ugoala’s Washington was the standout of the supporting men. But now, I’ve jumped clear on over to the Cleve train. It’s not that he’s better than Broadway’s Anthony Ramos (and who can compare performances like that anyway) (I mean I can) (but I won’t), it’s just that it’s easier to stand out when there’s no Daveed Diggs or Chris Jackson to combat with, and he really takes that opportunity and runs with it. His Laurens is at times moving and hilarious, and his Phillip was wonderful. The aforementioned Ugoala and Jason Pennycooke as Lafayette/Jefferson are giving wonderful performances (especially the latter) but they are pretty much the same as last time, so Cleve’s growing, improved performance shines all the more brightly.
I also wasn’t bothered by Rachelle Ann Go’s accent as much, even though my husband thinks it has actually gotten harder to understand. I think that now that I knew about the accent hurdles, I was prepared and could focus more on her performance. She plays a truly sweet Eliza that you don’t want to be sad, so when she’s sad for like the whole second act, you feel for her like you’re supposed to. There’s not much to her performance but she does the necessary job. And her superb “Burn” is still one of the most heartbreaking, gorgeous moments.
Lastly, I have to applaud Sifiso Mazibuko, the principle male standby of the show who was on as Burr at this performance. It was a real disappointment not to see how Giles Terrera has progressed in his terrific performance, but Sifiso was fantastic. Despite not giving as much nuance to his character, he did a wonderful job.
Continuing with the ‘bad’, although it’s not actively bad, just disappointing. As I mentioned above, Jamael had some bits where his energy was not just lowered but was nonexistent, and the worst offender was honestly ALL of “Say No To This”. While I love how much Christine Allado does with how little Peggy has, her Maria leaves me wanting so much more. I was underwhelmed with this number last time, and it has only gotten colder. This song is supposed to be hot and fiery and full of tumultuous emotions and I found myself trying to learn the footwork of background ensemble members to keep my interest up. There’s just zero chemistry between the actors and zero energy in this number. It was a real letdown.
I also was upset that Michael Jibson was out and an understudy was on for the King. The understudy was fine – and with that role it’s impossible not to get all the laughs anyway. It’s kind of like Ogie in “Waitress” and honestly Lola in “Kinky Boots” in that even if the actors are not amazing, they will still kill it. But I really like Jibson’s hilarious performance and it would have been nice to have another chance to determine whether he deserved to Judi Dench the Oliviers.
Now to the ugly. I hate, with full force of that word, that the biggest problem I had with this production since previews has not been addressed in the least, and the theatre shows no sign of dealing with it. You’ll notice that in the previous paragraph I referred to the King’s ‘understudy’ and not to an actor by name, which is shameful. Well, I don’t know his name. Whereas on Broadway, theatres operate by the 2/3 rule (understudies are announced in 2 of 3 ways: a cast list in the entrance, a slip in the Playbill, and/or an announcement over the loudspeaker right before the curtain rises), the West End has no such policies and so understudies don’t have to be, and often aren’t, recognized. I asked the staff at the theatre where the understudies for that night were announced, if anywhere, and was told that the tiny little electronic display on one side of the lobby (across from the cloakroom), near nothing that anyone would go looking for unless they knew to go over there, had that evening’s actors on it. Like, a constantly changing display was it. I can’t even believe this. This is so unacceptable it’s offensive to the actors. I doubt many people asked about it and I doubt many even knew that understudies were on and that swings had been swung into the holes in the ensemble. I can’t think of one actually decent reason for hiding this fact from the audience, but I can think of tons of ways it sucks. The most important reason why this is a bullshit stance is that it is a disservice to the actors who have worked their whole lives and careers to be on this stage, and they deserve to get their due. Yet instead, when they go on they don’t get to be recognized for their talents. That is inexcusable. I’m shocked that a theatre group like Delfont Mackintosh isn’t doing better to change this system.
Let’s start with the good. Several things have improved since my last viewing, I’m happy to say. One improvement for me was with our main man, Jamael Westman. His Alexander Hamilton is still reserved and less energetic than Lin’s, but whereas last time it made me mad (I wanted to grab him by the shoulders and be like WOULD YOU JUST PLEASE…give me the recipe! (‘Friends’ joke! I didn’t want a recipe I wanted him to show some enthusiasm but I had to finish the quote)), this time I understood it a little more. I still prefer the energy of more dynamic, vivacious Hams but I get what he’s doing. I do have to clarify, though, that while I’m praising his overall interpretation as having improved, his performance this night did have a few bad moments where the lack of energy wasn’t an acting choice but was a failing. Sometimes his words weren’t even audible. If the audience didn’t know the words, we wouldn’t have known that he had said anything at certain moments. Either he was miked poorly or he was just exhausted.
Probably the biggest standout for me was Cleve September’s Laurens/Phillip. Before, I thought he was fine, and I thought Obioma Ugoala’s Washington was the standout of the supporting men. But now, I’ve jumped clear on over to the Cleve train. It’s not that he’s better than Broadway’s Anthony Ramos (and who can compare performances like that anyway) (I mean I can) (but I won’t), it’s just that it’s easier to stand out when there’s no Daveed Diggs or Chris Jackson to combat with, and he really takes that opportunity and runs with it. His Laurens is at times moving and hilarious, and his Phillip was wonderful. The aforementioned Ugoala and Jason Pennycooke as Lafayette/Jefferson are giving wonderful performances (especially the latter) but they are pretty much the same as last time, so Cleve’s growing, improved performance shines all the more brightly.
I also wasn’t bothered by Rachelle Ann Go’s accent as much, even though my husband thinks it has actually gotten harder to understand. I think that now that I knew about the accent hurdles, I was prepared and could focus more on her performance. She plays a truly sweet Eliza that you don’t want to be sad, so when she’s sad for like the whole second act, you feel for her like you’re supposed to. There’s not much to her performance but she does the necessary job. And her superb “Burn” is still one of the most heartbreaking, gorgeous moments.
Lastly, I have to applaud Sifiso Mazibuko, the principle male standby of the show who was on as Burr at this performance. It was a real disappointment not to see how Giles Terrera has progressed in his terrific performance, but Sifiso was fantastic. Despite not giving as much nuance to his character, he did a wonderful job.
Continuing with the ‘bad’, although it’s not actively bad, just disappointing. As I mentioned above, Jamael had some bits where his energy was not just lowered but was nonexistent, and the worst offender was honestly ALL of “Say No To This”. While I love how much Christine Allado does with how little Peggy has, her Maria leaves me wanting so much more. I was underwhelmed with this number last time, and it has only gotten colder. This song is supposed to be hot and fiery and full of tumultuous emotions and I found myself trying to learn the footwork of background ensemble members to keep my interest up. There’s just zero chemistry between the actors and zero energy in this number. It was a real letdown.
I also was upset that Michael Jibson was out and an understudy was on for the King. The understudy was fine – and with that role it’s impossible not to get all the laughs anyway. It’s kind of like Ogie in “Waitress” and honestly Lola in “Kinky Boots” in that even if the actors are not amazing, they will still kill it. But I really like Jibson’s hilarious performance and it would have been nice to have another chance to determine whether he deserved to Judi Dench the Oliviers.
Now to the ugly. I hate, with full force of that word, that the biggest problem I had with this production since previews has not been addressed in the least, and the theatre shows no sign of dealing with it. You’ll notice that in the previous paragraph I referred to the King’s ‘understudy’ and not to an actor by name, which is shameful. Well, I don’t know his name. Whereas on Broadway, theatres operate by the 2/3 rule (understudies are announced in 2 of 3 ways: a cast list in the entrance, a slip in the Playbill, and/or an announcement over the loudspeaker right before the curtain rises), the West End has no such policies and so understudies don’t have to be, and often aren’t, recognized. I asked the staff at the theatre where the understudies for that night were announced, if anywhere, and was told that the tiny little electronic display on one side of the lobby (across from the cloakroom), near nothing that anyone would go looking for unless they knew to go over there, had that evening’s actors on it. Like, a constantly changing display was it. I can’t even believe this. This is so unacceptable it’s offensive to the actors. I doubt many people asked about it and I doubt many even knew that understudies were on and that swings had been swung into the holes in the ensemble. I can’t think of one actually decent reason for hiding this fact from the audience, but I can think of tons of ways it sucks. The most important reason why this is a bullshit stance is that it is a disservice to the actors who have worked their whole lives and careers to be on this stage, and they deserve to get their due. Yet instead, when they go on they don’t get to be recognized for their talents. That is inexcusable. I’m shocked that a theatre group like Delfont Mackintosh isn’t doing better to change this system.
Also, audiences are getting worse and worse (is humanity worth saving? discuss) but we aren’t going to talk about that today.
Aside from all the rage I have bubbling up right now for whoever is in charge of the understudy announcement decisions (I wish I knew; see coffee-based revenge fantasy, supra) and for people who exhibit boorish behavior at the opera (now that’s a ‘The Good Place’ reference (people said they never get my pop culture references (or never realize that I’m making them literally every sentence) so here I’m trying to help ok)), I enjoyed “Hamilton” a lot this last time. It’s a fine production of the greatest show, and it adds a great deal of artistry to the lackluster West End musical theatre scene.
AUDIENCE
I said we’re not going to talk about it.
STAGE DOOR
It seems that a line-against-the-side-wall situation has developed for people to join, ostensibly a smart way to remove the crowd from the main sidewalk, BUT there is no security guard present. I mean. I get that stage-dooring isn’t a huge thing in London but it for sure is for this show! Get a flipping security guard there for this cast! Fans are rabid! Also if there isn’t anyone in charge to tell me (my mom) that we have to get in the line, we are (my mom is) going to line-jump. (This is where I would put that shruggie emoji. To quote Eliza in ‘That Would Be Enough’, “iiiiiiii’m not sorry.”)
First Broadway Production of “Violet” Is Perfectly Done But Somehow Lacking
You know the feeling when everyone loooves something and proclaims how it’s the greatest thing since sliced bread and you’re like…what? Are you high?
That’s how I feel about “Violet”, the current revival of the Jeanine Tesori musical (which premiered Off Broadway in 1997) starring Sutton Foster as a young, disfigured woman in the south on a journey to get a televangelist to fix her face. It’s the “American Hustle” of this awards season, except of course it’s 100x better than “American Hustle” because please. But like I said about that horrid movie, it’s like “The Emperor’s New Clothes”, with everyone saying how they like it, I think, in order to save face. Although “Violet” is actually decent and perfectly performed, I think people are “Emperor’s New Clothes”-ing it in their over-effusive, insanely exuberant adoration for what is really just an okay show.
That’s how I feel about “Violet”, the current revival of the Jeanine Tesori musical (which premiered Off Broadway in 1997) starring Sutton Foster as a young, disfigured woman in the south on a journey to get a televangelist to fix her face. It’s the “American Hustle” of this awards season, except of course it’s 100x better than “American Hustle” because please. But like I said about that horrid movie, it’s like “The Emperor’s New Clothes”, with everyone saying how they like it, I think, in order to save face. Although “Violet” is actually decent and perfectly performed, I think people are “Emperor’s New Clothes”-ing it in their over-effusive, insanely exuberant adoration for what is really just an okay show.
Violet is about a woman named Violet who is turning violet, Violet, who was disfigured by a wayward axe (jesu!) as a tween and is ghastly to look at – judging by the reactions of people we see meet her. My favorite thing about this show is that the deformity is left to the imagination. Seeing the beautiful Sutton Foster treated like a troll when we can’t see her scars adds great depth and meaning to the show. But it says a lot about this show that that’s my favorite part. Incidentally, I found it very strange that, while the deformity is left to the imagination, the actual axe-ident is portrayed with tween Violet (Emerson Steele, solid) covered in blood. I was like, what is this, “Carrie”??
Anyway, Violet, who’s turning violet, Violet, is like hey, I’m…of age…I’m going to ride a bus for days on end (man alive) to see this television preacher man who “heals” and “gets ratings” in…other southern state…and make him heal my facial deformity and make me purdy! So at the outset it’s hard to have much sympathy for her. I mean you feel bad for her, but not enough to get behind her on this journey to meet a televangelist. You’re like, Oh Violet, you are so spunky and full of gumption and you win over everyone you meet on this bus, yet you beleive in the magical powers of these greedy lying bastards who make money off “religion”? It’s “Sutton Foster meets “Leap of Faith””, the terrible no good Raul Esparza musical from a few years ago. (I actually enjoyed “Leap of Faith” more than “Violet”. It’s nowhere near as good, but it’s more enjoyable and fun! Take that as you will. Actually, I would love to see Sutton and Raul in a show together. But preferably not about televangelists. I think two Broadway shows about that kind of thing is enough.) Obviously, the real point of the story isn’t about the destination of meeting the preacher but about the journey and the people she meets, as all motivational posters will tell you.
Violet gets on the bus (a group of chairs, thank goodness they didn’t try to make a bus) and chats up a nice old lady who recoils at the first sight of Violet’s face. Throughout the journey, Violet makes friends with two uniformed soldiers who just happen to both be gorgeous. Colin Donnell (Broadway’s Jon Hamm lookalike when he has a good haircut (i.e. not in his headshot)) is underused in a part that never really amounts to much. Joshua Henry gets the better role as the black man willing to fight for his country (it’s Vietnam era) yet having to constantly deal with the shitty people actually living in that country, in the American south in the 1960s (or really just the American south, period. Or really just America. Or anywhere. People are racist). Henry, as Flick, is one of the few people who can understand the prejudice Violet experiences when people just see what she looks like. It’s a lovely sentiment that the two would share this connection, but the suggestion that the effects of racism are similar to the effects of having a messed-up face is bothersome to say the least.
The greatest part of this show is Flick’s show-stopping, star-making song “Let It Sing”. It seems kind of out of place in the show, yet it’s the best reason to see the show (similar to the out-of-place “Fly Fly Away” from “Catch Me If You Can”, which should have been cut for story purposes but was indeed the best song written for the show). Joshua Henry has a voice, dammit, and it’s spectacular. He’s the most exciting and interesting part of this show. Actually, I’d love to see a whole show about Flick with Violet as the secondary character! Now that would be interesting! I want to see Henry headline all of the shows. Seriously, whenever he’s in a musical, you’re gonna want to see it.
The journey continues, and the relationships between the three main characters blossom into friendship and then into more. So yeah, both men fall for Violet. I guess there aren’t that many confident yet disfigured ladies in the south so once they met this no-nonsense gal they were like, “This is the shitttt!” or something. It reminded me of how on “Orange is the New Black” both guards think they are in love with Daya, who just seems kind of lame and blah and named after a vegan cheese that gives people stomachaches. Violet is 100x cooler than Daya, but the idea is the same. Violet and Colin Donnell have an unexpected tryst in a very dirty looking hotel room, and Violet sings my favorite song which for years and years I did not know was from this or any show but just something I fortuitously heard, memorized, and sang in my head before bed every single night. So when Violet started singing my special song to a sleeping nekkid man for whom she had lukewarm feelings, I was like…man. (The song is the lullaby “Lay Down Your Head”. Here is the best version imaginable.)
They make it to whatever square-seeming state they are going to, and Violet runs into a church yelling for the famous preacher man. She desperately screams how everything depends on him and she came all this way. It’s very intense and sad because you are like, Listen Violet, even if you see the man and he tries to help you, nothing is going to change. Realizing that she could not be healed, Violet has a kind of hallucinatory heart-to-heart with her deceased father, who is responsible for her deformity. The scene, heartbreaking yet lovely, seems out of place, as though it’s part of a more serious, important show. All the energy seems to have been saved for these final 10 minutes, which offer a too-short look at what the rest of the show should have sustained.
“Violet” is a really well done, very well performed, generally lovely show, yet in the end it feels not quite special enough. It’s small and sweet, and while other small and sweet shows can achieve untold levels of brilliance (like “Once”), this show doesn’t. I simultaneously felt that it was too short to accomplish what it was trying to, yet if it were any longer I would have started getting cranky and impatient. It belongs off-Broadway where it could be interesting but insubstantial without leaving people feeling unsatisfied. “Violet” is giving me the opposite experience that “Rocky” did: At “Rocky”, my audience was enraptured, energetic, and completely invested, yet the critics are meh about it, or worse; at “Violet”, my audience was bored (a guy next to me asked his girlfriend if he could leave, and it’s only 90 minutes!) and underwhelmed, yet critics are like orgasming over it. And many people are putting Sutton as the frontrunner for the Tony. Listen, Sutton Foster is incredible and will be in the Broadway Hall of Fame (I think that’s actually a thing but I mean it metaphorically), but she has two Tonys awards already. If she is THREE? That would be nuts. Like, Hilary Swank has two Oscars, and wouldn’t it seem a little excessive at best and ludicrous at worst if she had the same number as Meryl Streep? Same here. She’s wonderful and perfect and always is, but this isn’t the show for Tonys, and definitely not for a third. It’s a perfectly pleasant and enjoyable night at the theatre, but it’s lacking. Like a perfectly performed production of a B-level show.
Anyway, Violet, who’s turning violet, Violet, is like hey, I’m…of age…I’m going to ride a bus for days on end (man alive) to see this television preacher man who “heals” and “gets ratings” in…other southern state…and make him heal my facial deformity and make me purdy! So at the outset it’s hard to have much sympathy for her. I mean you feel bad for her, but not enough to get behind her on this journey to meet a televangelist. You’re like, Oh Violet, you are so spunky and full of gumption and you win over everyone you meet on this bus, yet you beleive in the magical powers of these greedy lying bastards who make money off “religion”? It’s “Sutton Foster meets “Leap of Faith””, the terrible no good Raul Esparza musical from a few years ago. (I actually enjoyed “Leap of Faith” more than “Violet”. It’s nowhere near as good, but it’s more enjoyable and fun! Take that as you will. Actually, I would love to see Sutton and Raul in a show together. But preferably not about televangelists. I think two Broadway shows about that kind of thing is enough.) Obviously, the real point of the story isn’t about the destination of meeting the preacher but about the journey and the people she meets, as all motivational posters will tell you.
Violet gets on the bus (a group of chairs, thank goodness they didn’t try to make a bus) and chats up a nice old lady who recoils at the first sight of Violet’s face. Throughout the journey, Violet makes friends with two uniformed soldiers who just happen to both be gorgeous. Colin Donnell (Broadway’s Jon Hamm lookalike when he has a good haircut (i.e. not in his headshot)) is underused in a part that never really amounts to much. Joshua Henry gets the better role as the black man willing to fight for his country (it’s Vietnam era) yet having to constantly deal with the shitty people actually living in that country, in the American south in the 1960s (or really just the American south, period. Or really just America. Or anywhere. People are racist). Henry, as Flick, is one of the few people who can understand the prejudice Violet experiences when people just see what she looks like. It’s a lovely sentiment that the two would share this connection, but the suggestion that the effects of racism are similar to the effects of having a messed-up face is bothersome to say the least.
The greatest part of this show is Flick’s show-stopping, star-making song “Let It Sing”. It seems kind of out of place in the show, yet it’s the best reason to see the show (similar to the out-of-place “Fly Fly Away” from “Catch Me If You Can”, which should have been cut for story purposes but was indeed the best song written for the show). Joshua Henry has a voice, dammit, and it’s spectacular. He’s the most exciting and interesting part of this show. Actually, I’d love to see a whole show about Flick with Violet as the secondary character! Now that would be interesting! I want to see Henry headline all of the shows. Seriously, whenever he’s in a musical, you’re gonna want to see it.
The journey continues, and the relationships between the three main characters blossom into friendship and then into more. So yeah, both men fall for Violet. I guess there aren’t that many confident yet disfigured ladies in the south so once they met this no-nonsense gal they were like, “This is the shitttt!” or something. It reminded me of how on “Orange is the New Black” both guards think they are in love with Daya, who just seems kind of lame and blah and named after a vegan cheese that gives people stomachaches. Violet is 100x cooler than Daya, but the idea is the same. Violet and Colin Donnell have an unexpected tryst in a very dirty looking hotel room, and Violet sings my favorite song which for years and years I did not know was from this or any show but just something I fortuitously heard, memorized, and sang in my head before bed every single night. So when Violet started singing my special song to a sleeping nekkid man for whom she had lukewarm feelings, I was like…man. (The song is the lullaby “Lay Down Your Head”. Here is the best version imaginable.)
They make it to whatever square-seeming state they are going to, and Violet runs into a church yelling for the famous preacher man. She desperately screams how everything depends on him and she came all this way. It’s very intense and sad because you are like, Listen Violet, even if you see the man and he tries to help you, nothing is going to change. Realizing that she could not be healed, Violet has a kind of hallucinatory heart-to-heart with her deceased father, who is responsible for her deformity. The scene, heartbreaking yet lovely, seems out of place, as though it’s part of a more serious, important show. All the energy seems to have been saved for these final 10 minutes, which offer a too-short look at what the rest of the show should have sustained.
“Violet” is a really well done, very well performed, generally lovely show, yet in the end it feels not quite special enough. It’s small and sweet, and while other small and sweet shows can achieve untold levels of brilliance (like “Once”), this show doesn’t. I simultaneously felt that it was too short to accomplish what it was trying to, yet if it were any longer I would have started getting cranky and impatient. It belongs off-Broadway where it could be interesting but insubstantial without leaving people feeling unsatisfied. “Violet” is giving me the opposite experience that “Rocky” did: At “Rocky”, my audience was enraptured, energetic, and completely invested, yet the critics are meh about it, or worse; at “Violet”, my audience was bored (a guy next to me asked his girlfriend if he could leave, and it’s only 90 minutes!) and underwhelmed, yet critics are like orgasming over it. And many people are putting Sutton as the frontrunner for the Tony. Listen, Sutton Foster is incredible and will be in the Broadway Hall of Fame (I think that’s actually a thing but I mean it metaphorically), but she has two Tonys awards already. If she is THREE? That would be nuts. Like, Hilary Swank has two Oscars, and wouldn’t it seem a little excessive at best and ludicrous at worst if she had the same number as Meryl Streep? Same here. She’s wonderful and perfect and always is, but this isn’t the show for Tonys, and definitely not for a third. It’s a perfectly pleasant and enjoyable night at the theatre, but it’s lacking. Like a perfectly performed production of a B-level show.
