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Sweet Charity – Marriott Lincolnshire Theatre – September 27, 2018

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I’d never seen Sweet Charity, so, in memory of the recently departed Neil Simon, I stayed in the suburbs beyond the limits of my golf visa, knowing that, at a minimum, I would enjoy the show’s two most well-known songs, Big Spender and If My Friends Could See Me Now.

What I didn’t know was that early in Act 2, a scene, including the song Rhythm of Life, seemingly stolen from from Hair, except that Hair debuted the year after Sweet Charity, comes out of nowhere, adding absolutely nothing to the story, but giving me time to daydream, and briefly consider opening the iPad on my lap to resume reading my latest ebook (about pioneering women pilots), as the scene bored me and I couldn’t understand most of what the chorus of hippies was singing anyway.

An exchange between the two main characters as they exited the scene, however, brought my attention back, as it was apropos of my attendance at the show and of my blog. Charity asks Oscar how he found out about the Rhythm of Life Church event they’d just attended under the Manhattan Bridge, and he responds that he’s on the mailing list for the Church of the Month Club. Sounds like me, except it’s theater and music email lists, and never under a bridge.

The rest of the show was solid, if unspectacular, except for the famous scene where Charity and Oscar get trapped in an elevator. Alex Goodrich, as Oscar, played the physical comedy of the scene and his claustrophobia to the hilt, eliciting roars of laughter from the audience as he climbed the walls of the elevator. Wouldn’t it be fun if, instead of showing the always depressing news, hotel elevators with television screens in them showed a version of this scene instead?

Porchlight Music Theater First Rehearsal Meet and Greet for Gypsy: A Musical Fable – September 18, 2018

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As I walked into the industrial building Porchlight uses as a rehearsal space, a couple staff members greeted me by name, asked me what color wine I wanted, and pointed me toward the bowl of M&Ms. I love the theater.

At age 13, Bernadette Peters was the understudy for “Dainty June” in the second national tour of Gypsy, when, as the assistant conductor, Marvin Laird, recalled, “I heard her sing an odd phrase or two and thought, ‘God that’s a big voice out of that little girl.”

So I suggest you remember the name Isabella Warren. Get a piece of paper, write it down, and put it someplace where you’ll find it a few years from now. I’m not sure how old she is, certainly not yet 13. Her IMDB page says she played a terrified seven-year-old girl in a 2017 episode of Chicago P.D. What I am sure of is that she’s going to be a star. I know this because, at this first rehearsal, at the end of her big song as Baby June, Isabella held a note so long that the rest of the cast started looking at each other, dropping their jaws, and getting downright giddy about the talent they were witnessing. The only thing that would have been better is if she had done it while standing on her head and drinking a glass of water.

That said, Porchlight built this production around the fact that E. Faye Butler always wanted to play Rose, and she didn’t disappoint at the rehearsal. But the best part of watching the reading, aside from imagining what the burlesque queens were going to be doing during their rendition of You Gotta Get a Gimmick, was seeing how much the actors were enjoying themselves. This is going to be a fun production.

Music of the Baroque – Millennium Park – September 12, 2018

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The big screen above the stage was used to zoom in on the musicians, along with showing the occasional picture of something related to the music, like a shot of the score. And while there were a couple photos that left me wondering as to their relationship to the music, I thought this was a wonderful addition, though I noticed, in some closeups, that a couple of the chorus members needed dental work.

Yes, I went to a concert that featured a chorus, but I only stayed for two of their numbers, and got to hear three other uninfected pieces, including Autumn from Vivaldi’s Four Seasons, which I, and doubtless countless others, never tire of, no matter how many times we hear it when we’re on hold on the phone.

On the other hand, listening to the chorus repeat the word “rejoiced” six times in a row in Handel’s “Zadok the Priest” reminded me of how agonizing it was to hear the Beatles repeat the chorus of Hey Jude 19 times in a row at the end of that song, unless, I guess, you were stoned.

Another thing I noticed was that the violinists bobbed their heads differently (and apparently for different reasons, as I discovered). I wonder whether violinists sitting next to each other ever bang heads. When holding auditions, do orchestra leaders ever consider whether the seat they have to fill needs someone with a left or right head bobbing tendency. Have they ever thought of choreographing the head bobs, like a Temptations dance routine?

In regard to his Symphony No. 59, the program wrongly showed Hayden’s life as being between 1770 and 1827, which turns out to be Beethoven’s life, whereas Hayden really lived from 1732 to 1809. I wonder if those guys ever got each other’s mail. And I wonder if heads will roll, which is apparently a song by the Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs, speaking of repetitious lyrics by the Beatles, as opposed to bob, as a result of this mistake.

David L. Carlson, Landis Blair, Charlie Rizzo – The Hunting Accident: A True Story of Crime and Poetry – American Writers Museum – September 6, 2018

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I arrived, and departed, confused by the term graphic novel, relieved only by the fact that, according to Wikipedia, author Daniel Raeburn wrote “I snicker at the neologism first for its insecure pretension—the literary equivalent of calling a garbage man a ‘sanitation engineer’—and second because a ‘graphic novel’ is in fact the very thing it is ashamed to admit: a comic book, rather than a comic pamphlet or comic magazine.”

This program had two distinct aspects to it, the discussion of the process of putting together the graphic novel (written by Carlson and illustrated by Blair), and the substance of the story (about Rizzo’s father). Listening to the discussion of the process was not quite as interesting as watching cheese age, which I had occasion to do in 2007 on cheddarvision.tv.

Carlson was overly fond of referencing John Keats’s concept of truth of imagination, as stated by Keats, in an 1817 letter to Benjamin Bailey (whoever he was), as “What the imagination seizes as beauty must be truth – whether it existed before or not.”

According to Carlson, he used this philosophy when taking liberties to fill in the story of Rizzo’s father. I always thought we just called that poetic license. Thinking about poetic license led me to a short item on Druid Life comparing it to fake news.

In any event, poetic license would have been a more appropriate reference in this case since the story is about a man who became a poet after being blinded while committing a robbery, and being taught braille by his cellmate, the infamous Nathan Leopold (whom, although long dead, you can friend on Facebook), at Stateville Prison, which the book compares to Dante’s nine circles of hell. Now doesn’t that grab you more than cheese aging?

Chicago Jazz Festival – Chicago Cultural Center and Millennium Park – August 30, 2018

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The Chicago Cellar Boys played my kind of music at the Cultural Center – Fats Waller, Count Basie, and Jelly Roll Morton, among others. (I may have to check them out on a Sunday night at the Honky Tonk BBQ in Pilsen.) When I saw Andy Schumm take one hand off his clarinet and pat his head, looking like he was trying to keep a toupee on, I was mildly amused, until I realized he actually was signaling the other musicians about something, I knew not what. So I looked it up. I found “8 Jam Session Hand Signals That Every Musician Should Know”, which explained to me that a head pat “denotes a return to the beginning.”

This is one of the many reasons that I could never be a jazz musician. Isn’t it enough just to be able to improvise on your instrument, which I can’t? You also have to memorize signals as if you were a third base coach waving off the bunt and implementing the hit and run. It’s one thing to be able to pat your head and rub your tummy at the same time, after years of practice, but pat your head and play an instrument, way out of my league. I don’t chew gum either, unless I’m seated.

I slid over from the Cultural Center to Millennium Park for the Second-line Procession led by Mystick Krewe of Laff, featuring the Big Shoulders Brass Band. it wasn’t quite like the Krewe du Vieux I once witnessed in New Orleans (here there was no float with a keg on it serving the crowd and nobody in the group was borderline naked), but it was fun to join with them as they marched around the park, playing traditional Dixieland jazz, leading an entourage of people like me making videos with their phones. Next year (or maybe tomorrow) I’ll bring some beads.

Chicago Cubs Baseball Game – Wrigley Field – August 29 2018

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Today was the second time I had entered Wrigley Field since October 14, 2003, when some guy named Bartman made Felipe Alou go crazy in a playoff game by reaching for a foul ball. I was there for that game (and still have my ticket stub). Today’s game didn’t have quite the same drama. It essentially was over in the top of the first, when former White Sox player Todd Frazier hit a grand slam homer for the Mets.

So we spent the rest of the game observing things like the number of mound visits registered on the scoreboard and the number of players participating in them. On several occasions, the Cubs seemed to be channeling the movie Bull Durham, bringing half a dozen players to the mound to discuss wedding gifts, jammed eyelids, and cutting the head off a live rooster.

The Wrigley Field bathrooms definitely have been upgraded, or at least the one I inspected. The food still looks unappealing (I opted to bring a power bar from home instead) and the left field Jumbotron looks sort of surreal, but it helped light the field on a dismal day when the highlight of the action for the Cubs was a flock of birds taking up residence in short left field in the late innings.

Kyle Schwarber interacted more effectively with the birds, chasing them away, than he did with the Mets pitchers, striking out three times, and certainly more effectively than Tippi Hedren did in that Bodega Bay phone booth in 1963, a scene that couldn’t be shot today, because there are no phone booths, which also reminded me of the scene in the 1978 Superman: The Movie, when Clark Kent couldn’t find a suitable phone booth in which to change into his alter ego. Today, neither could Schwarber nor any of the other Cubs.

Chicago Magic Lounge – Al James – August 22, 2018

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Going to see a magician perform is sort of like going to the polls on election day. Both involve misdirection, but politicians don’t put out a tip jar. They get your money by other means.

The Chicago Magic Lounge, which opened about six months ago, is in a converted 1940s-era, commercial laundry building. The first trick you encounter is the lack of an obvious interior door once you’ve entered from the street. A guy who walked in the same time I did wanted to call for help, but I convinced him to let me figure it out, which wasn’t that tough, because, after all, they want your business.

I just came to sit at the bar and see some close up card tricks, remembering the days when we used to go to Schulien’s for the magician who would go from table to table performing tricks. I’ll go back to the Lounge another time for one of the shows.

Al James, who was working the bar area, promotes himself as the World’s Second Greatest Magician. When asked who’s first, he replies that he says second to avoid arguments.

Before James started his act, I mentioned that I had come from the golf course. That was a mistake, as he decided to tell me, in his deadpan style, a golf joke I’d heard many times before. I restrained myself, however, not wanting to be rude by interrupting him, and so suffered through the joke. Then I told him one he didn’t know, and that made the bartender laugh. Al should stick to magic.

On the other hand, though his tricks seemed routine, Al’s sleight of hand was pretty good, at least by my standards, though I suspect Penn and Teller would not be fooled. Then the bartender tried to make my credit card disappear, but I left unscathed.

P.S. As has been requested of me, I have added a contact widget at the bottom of the page by which you can send me messages.  Figuring that out was no small trick.

 

Life is a Cabaret

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Break out the chocolate. This is my one hundredth blog, all posted in less than eight months. Who says I’m not working? I’m just not getting paid.

What started out as an offhand thought about chronicling my retirement activities, has turned into something of an obsession.

My first challenge was the technical aspects of setting up a blog. I didn’t know any six-year-olds who could help me, so I had to figure it out myself, with help, one time, from a faceless technical assistant, in another country, on my provider’s chat line. I’m still trying (halfheartedly) to figure out how to make the blog’s email account work.

I had no idea whether anyone would be interested in reading my rambling reflections. I figured out early on, however, that I enjoyed writing them. As long as I amuse myself, and no animals are harmed in the process, what the heck (but thank you to my loyal followers, whose kind words I appreciate – if you blog in a forest and no one reads it, does it say anything?).

I’ve never had the intention of trying to monetize the site. So you won’t see any ads and you shouldn’t get any spam based on being a subscriber or visiting the site. This is not The Facebook.

I did consider the possibility that, someday, theaters might deem it worthwhile to give me free tickets, but there are three things standing in the way of that – they don’t know I exist; my readership is too small and I have no interest in marketing the site other than through casual conversation; and the theaters might prefer something other than the detour-heavy, top of consciousness, keep it short, look for the joke style I currently employ, even if I do try to spell their names right.

A nice side benefit of the blog is that I now have something to talk about when meeting people (given no job to complain about and no grandchildren).

Another benefit has been the increase in my activity due to the responsibility I feel to my readers to go out and find things to do, for the story value. It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make, and better than sitting alone in your room. Thank you Elsie.

Anything Goes – Music Theater Works (Cahn Auditorium) – August 18, 2018

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Several people who knew I was going to see Anything Goes remarked to me that it had gotten good reviews. I guess they were just trying to make conversation, given that it hadn’t opened yet. Perhaps they were recalling the reviews for the original 1934 Broadway production starring Ethel Merman, or subsequent ones featuring Patti LuPone and Sutton Foster. In any event, though it required great will power, I restrained myself from correcting them, until now.

Usually I do wait for reviews, and don’t like to go to opening nights, having participated in enough of them to know that often something goes wrong. But this was a short run and I had confidence both in the company and in Cole Porter, a real up-and-comer.

But, sure enough, there was a miscue by the star of the show, Erica Evans, as she started her first song. I’m not sure whether she started singing too early, or had word problems, but after one line, she very calmly and professionally, almost as if it were part of the song, said let’s try that again, a cue that the orchestra, through the conductor, flawlessly picked up on as it vamped to allow her to restart. She then proceeded to knock our socks off for the rest of the show.

Also, a quick mention of the percussionist who, in addition to a slew of the usual instruments, threw in a whistle, a bird call, and several other interesting things I couldn’t keep track of.

But, of course, my favorite part was the tap dance to the title song that closes the first act. What is it about someone, who has just finished being part of a 20-person, high-energy tap dance, calling out five, six, seven, eight, to launch the group into a dance reprise as the curtain lowers that is particularly delightful, or should I say delovely?

Avenue Q – Mercury Theater – August 15, 2018

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All of the puppets and several of the humans in this wonderful production also were in the 2014 production I saw at the Mercury Theater.

This time, however, I also got to go on a backstage tour. You can go to Playbill to learn about dressers and quick costume changes for actors in Broadway shows, but what if those actors are puppets (and I don’t mean just of the director, but rather actual puppets)? Playbill has some information on that too, as did the tour.

Some of the puppets in the show have several costume changes. So, just like in the movie Baby Geniuses, where real life triplets took turns playing the parts of twins, twins and triplets and more of the puppets, dressed differently, are called into action in Avenue Q, thus avoiding a possible costume malfunction or diva puppet tantrum.

This kind of arrangement is not to be confused with several child actors playing the same part, but on different nights, as when three boys playing Billy Elliot shared the Tony for best actor. Avenue Q won the Tony for best musical in 2004, but while two of the human actors were nominated, none of the puppets were, ironically, as one of the show’s songs is Everyone’s a Little Bit Racist.

Hygiene also is a big deal backstage at the show. After each performance, several of the puppets get hooked up to a machine, in a way reminiscent of the movie Coma, that helps clean out their insides. If you don’t have one of those machines at home, there is online help for puppet care and feeding.

The pinnacle of the experience was when I was given the opportunity to try a puppet on for size (see picture above). I was asked to lubricate my hand with a big glob of sanitizer beforehand, almost as if I were going to give the puppet a prostate exam.