Whatever you think of South Park, their movie, Bigger, Longer, and Uncut, is one of the greatest musical satires of all time.
And their TV skewering of both Mormons and Scientologists is without equal. And Cheyenne Jackson is the ultimate choice to put on some magic underwear and bring this to Broadway next year.
I did A Chorus Line once upon a time for Sacramento Music Circus (aka California Musical Theatre); it was a joyous experience, made especially so by the fine Leland Ball (director/artistic director) and the gracious Jimmy Roddy (choreographer).
It seems that the fellow who has subsequently been the artistic director of that theater made a $1,000 contribution to Yes on Proposition 8, the California amendment to the State Constitution that bans same-sex marriage (and will, eventually be declared unconstitutional again, just watch). Susan Egan (the original Beauty in the Disney show with the Beast) wanted everybody theatricale to know about it.
The musical Hairspray has played recently at this theater, and its composer, Marc Shaiman, had a thing or two to say to this fellow. The musical Avenue Q will be playing at this theater later this year; one of its creators, Jeff Whitty, has had some kerfluffle-esque things to say on the subject.
This Yes Man, Scott Eckern (who is, incidentally, a Mormon — surprise!!), has resigned the position, as of today.
Although it’s no mystery that I’m absolutely, utterly against Prop 8, I do have mixed feelings about this situation. And that’s all I’ll say for now.
Many moons ago, my Famous British Actor friend came to town to do a piece of theatah. He was asked by a high-brow radio station to come onto a program of theirs, one which interviewed high-brow talent while playing the ten songs they would bring with them to a desert island. I believe they expected FBA to bring some pretty high-brow stuff with him. But FBA — never being one to travel with scores of record albums, or even being much for making useless high-brow lists — asked me, his old chum, if I wouldn’t compile this list for him. He was well prepared for me to provide him something … avant-garde (read: bratty), and lower-brow than any-other-kind-of-brow. I’m not sure the snooty radio station was prepared, however.
The list included:
“Turning Japanese” by The Vapors
“Tapedeck in His Tractor” from the Nashville soundtrack
“I Like ‘Em Big and Stupid” by Julie Brown
I would like to stress that all of my choices — with the possible exception of the grand finale — were chosen carefully, and with symbolic impact in mind: e.g., since ‘turning Japanese” is a euphemism for masturbating, I felt this was an important song to have on a desert island, and since FBA did like them big, if not stupid, I felt that this was also a sound choice. (Get it? Sound choice? hahahahaha)
As I said, perhaps the grand finale wasn’t chosen for its resonance, but more because it was utterly and completely the last thing a Famous British Actor — one expected to be of the high-brow ilk — would ever be expected to listen to. Needless to say, when asked which of his ten tunes he would leave for the next castaway, that was the one he mercilessly chose. And here it is, just for you:
Yahoo! News shouldn’t put its “Odd News” on the front page, where I will stumble upon it and be made distraught. I just went there to do a search, and this headline caught my eye:
Teacher OK after crashing into bear on a bicycle
The first question you might reasonably ask yourself is, Where was the bear riding the bicycle? The answer is two-fold: No, and Missoula, Montana.
It’s time to take a breather from that Old Guy and the Tina Fey girl, and enjoy a bit of very-dry satire.
This may be a little too inside-theater for some, but it’s got a cameo by Allison Janney, and there’s Hunter from [title of show], and . . . wait for it . . . Cheyenne Jackson.
I don’t know if it’s my dream or my fear that everything in the world become musical theater. I’ll ponder that as we watch this hard-hitting intervention of a crystal meth addict.
As you may have read here previously, I’m in rehearsals for a show right now. I think the leading lady of this production is pretty fabby. While I was out spending the past 25 years being esoteric, she and most of the rest of this cast were continuing on in the theater. And accruing some mighty tasty stories.
At the bequest of FLL (Fabby Leading Lady) I will try and keep the crux of this story anonymous (though I feel the use of “Chuck” is essential . . . please think it’s a made-up name, and the real person’s name is Smedley).
It seems that FLL was starring on Broadway, opposite this Chuck character (who had quite the reputation as a real piece o’ work). One evening, during a quiet moment in the performance, Chuck whispered to FLL, “Will you please get through the show quickly tonight? I don’t want to miss my train.” Onstage. During the show.
FLL, without missing a beat, whispered back, “Chuck, I’m living my dream. I’m starring in a Broadway show, and I’m not going to speed it up so you can catch your train.”
“Chuck, I’m living my dream” is my new favorite phrase. FLL is a wonderful mix of the ingenuous and the been-around-the-block. And I feel both those things in my new favorite phrase; it can be said ironically or not. Or just in homage to the best aspects of Show Business. And Chuck.
This has been my Equity-sanctioned “actors day off” from the play I’m rehearsing. We had dance rehearsals in the two previous days. I’m very sore.
The disconcerting thing is not knowing whether the advanced aches and pains I’m having are just the soreness I always used to get when I’d been out of condition for a while and got back to dancing . . . or whether — at my advanced age — this is a cause for x-rays and chiropractor visits.
I’m glad I have more wisdom now than I did at 20. Otherwise, this getting-older thing would just unabashedly suck.
These next few weeks are going to be a bit intense for me. I got a call out-of-the-blue on Sunday asking me to be in a musical that opens in September. Rehearsals start today (”thank you, Short Notice!”). It could be up to 10 hours a day, six days a week, for a while — for pretty small money (everybody start singing “What I Did For Love”).
And, no, it’s not “A Chorus Line” — which I did 23 years ago. But it’s been almost that long since I’ve performed in a book musical. Think lovely thoughts for me, and I’ll post when able. Or not memorizing something.
