Um... it was awesome. Like, really, really awesome.
Okay, quick points:
1. The opening act was Harry Shum's team 'The League of Extraordinary Dancers' and they were... well... extraordinary. I didn't expect Harry to get a solo but he did, where he gets 'magic shoes' and they basically make him go crazy, dancing to whatever music comes on. He was amazing. As were the other dancers. Really captivating stuff.
2. Lea Michelle was clearly losing her voice, probably from the strain of the tour. She went flat a couple times, but that didn't stop her from belting out 'Don't Rain On My Parade' and doing a really touching 'Defying Gravity' with Chris Colfer.
3. Heather Morris stole the show. When she wasn't in the group numbers, she was doing double duty with Harry Shum as the featured back up dancer, and she was absolutely MESMERIZING during Bust Your Windows. And they trotted her out twice between set changes to put on a 'brittany' act for the audience, which were absolutely hilarious. Especially one where she announces to the audience that she's made out with all the stage hands and is in love with Kurt because he gave her a facial. - Bust Your Windows - featuring Heather Morris being FIERCE.
4. Naya Rivera has PIPES. She's also absolutely gorgeous, but I was REALLY impressed with her voice. When they don't autotune the shit out of her, she's just amazing to watch. - The Boy Is Mine
And then of course... there's Bad Romance:
5. They kept Kevin in the wheelchair. At first I thought that was weird, but then I noticed SO many people in wheelchairs there and I realized why. He's an inspiration to them.
6. Everyone but Dianna seemed to get some sort of solo (either dance for the 'dancers' or otherwise), which was a little disappointing, but she's effing adorable in Bad Romance.
7. It was a really impressive show. No intermission (except for the break between the LXD and the Glee group), and just non-stop fun. Vocal Adrenaline was just plain fun to watch.
8. Cheerios came out into the audience per Sue Sylvester's instructions to pass out Barf Bags. It was hilarious.
Not that I didn't already know that, because there's a reason why the majority of our population groans like they've been gutted when they see that summons in the mail. Because it's a pain in the butt.
Don't get me wrong, I get that it's important. This weekend I sat through four screenings of genocide featured documentaries and films: The Killing Fields, The Long Way Home, Darfur Now, and Hotel Rwanda.
It's sobering to watch them all at once, because you're reminded just how LUCKY you are to live in a country where your biggest gripe is that you have to sit through jury duty once a year, and not in one where you've being killed simply based on your skin color or heritage or no reason at all.
And to be honest, jury duty did have it's amusements. There was the 'actor' in the box who insisted on being referred as the 'award' winning actor and also vehemently added that as an actor he was more in tune with the human mind and therefore qualified as the psychologist expert. When he was summarily dismissed, he got up in a huff and stated to the rest of us that 'justice would not be served'.
There was hour and a half lunches, where eclectic members of the jury would do everything they could to not talk about the case and instead wandered through downtown, to Placita Olvera, and marveling at the long trek to the parking assigned at the majestic Disney Concert Hall.
There was the bored looking judge, who would comment wryly and do his job, and nod off in his chair, blinking away to check the court record to catch up.
There was the note pad we were given, which was used for notes, and for ADD afflicted me, became a savior in the form of the sketch pad, in which my notes turned into snapshots of the courtroom - witnesses, respondent, lawyers and bailiff.
But the case itself was sobering, and I learned way more about child molestation than I ever wanted to know. In the end, we opted to send the respondent back to the state hospital, and I understand now the importance of jury duty. The importance of being fair.
Even so, I'm very very glad I don't have to go again for another year.
This weekend, on a birthday excursion for the parents, I got a good look at the new store in the Universal Citywalk that has recently taken over the Nascar Racing store. Actually, I was less looking and more or less gobsmacked, when on our way to the movie theater, we caught a glimpse of a lifesize Marilyn Monroe.
Made of jellybeans.
If you fail to understand how awesome this really is, then you are... not awesome.
That is all.
This place turned me, my sister and my mother into giddy children, running inside to find sweet confections of every shape and variation. The store is called It'sSugar, and it's MARVELOUS.
There are candies of every flavor, naughty edible bras made of gummy, 'Get Your Own Sugar Daddy' T-shirts, chocolate covered cupcakes, and m&ms of every shape and color (it was no surprise that the Lakers themed m&ms were completely out).
For a junkie searching for a fix, this was the worst and best possible discovery on the planet. You know how the kids look in 'Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory' when they get their first good look at the room with the chocolate river?
Yeah... it was like that.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a half pound bag of cherry sours, gummy bears, chocolate raisins, sour worms, and sour skittles to get through.
I confess - sometime I'm just a slave to the pretty. I can be a shallow fool, and I admit it readily. But sometimes, things are just too too pretty not to just sit and stare in awe!
Like Gorgeous Spanish Model Laura Sanchez.
Or pretty pretty Jon Kortajarena.
I'm on a Spanish Model kick. Sue me.
Anyway - like I said, I'm a slave to the pretty. When that happens on a tv show or in a musical, I tend to forgive a whole heck of a lot in terms of story/plot/direction, mostly because I'm so easily enthralled. It's not often that I get to watch something that is both pretty and well done.
I was so so happy that The Phantom of the Opera turned out out to be both. I have to admit, I never had much interest in seeing the musical until the movie. I knew a lot about it, I knew the general story, and I enjoyed the music, but there were other musicals I wanted to see before Phantom. Boy, i was missing out! I heard the production was lavish, but I've never been as boggled by set design and costumes as I was this time around. It was just so... pretty!
The decadance of the costumes, and their lavish detail was astounding. There's no less than three 'mini' operas in the musical, and for each there is a menagerie of costumes and sets that work as if they were for an entirely new production. I didn't want the 'Masquerade' number to end because I couldn't get enough of eying each and every distinct costume created for the number. The smoking mist and pyrotechnics and constantly moving sets prove consistently that there is no 'box' when it comes to theatre. There is simply imagination. And the music - haunting and wicked, rife with lust and sadness and pathos, takes over the theatre, and leaves you enthralled. One of my favorite ballads 'All I Ask of You' comes from the Phantom of the Opera, and it was beautiful to hear live.
A gorgeous, GORGEOUS experience. And a definate must-see. Especially if you saw the movie, because Christine in the musical? Actually HAS a brain. And uses it! I know! She's not just a passive reactionary character!
... so maybe the pretty doesn't blind me as much as I think it does.
DINELA is back with a vengeance this year, and it's your chance, if you're not on a diet like me, to try some of Los Angeles' many restaurants for a fraction of the price you usually pay for eating out.
We're talking three course meals. With dessert. For cheap. At fabulous restaurants.
I must wrestle with my inner self as to whether or not this can compete with my yearly New Years diet resolution.
On the home front -
-Klaus has gone to his forever home, and I am now down one reckless little kitty. It's both a relief and a loss. I'll miss that little purring monster, but I'm really happy that she's now going to be somewhere warm and happy and loved. Quite a change from the starving little fuzzball I found shivering and blinded beside my dad's grill a month ago.
-I have now seen Slumdog Millionaire three times in the theatres. It's no less gripping.
- I've become addicted to XBOX Live and Left 4 Dead. Who knew killing zombies could be so thrilling and frustrating?
As bitter as I was in my last post about Thanksgiving and the Turkey With No Brine, I do have to admit, my Tia roasts a pretty good bird. There. I said it. Though I will also argue that stuffing the stuffing in the bird makes it mushy and gross and stuffing should be baked independant of that.
But I'm also a non-traditionalist food snob.
And I think I make a pretty mean ham. Even if I do think I over cooked it a little (or over-heated it, since the dern thing was pre-cooked), and nearly reduced my mother to tears when she found out that I was planning on doing it without pineapple and cherries.
Man, she went nuts. And told me I had to go to the grocery store right that minute to get pineapples and cherries because if i didn't then the world would end or something. Luckily, I got to the grocery store around 10AM on Thanksgiving, which is enough time to make parking a head ache (I avoided the lot completely and did street parking) but not bad enough that I wanted to stab someone in the canned fruit aisle.
While there, I sucked it up and bought some fresh cranberries too, even though my family will be heathens and still go with the jellied can stuff.
Still, did anyone else feel like this holiday crept up on them without notice? Usually we can see this one coming a mile away, but this year it was here and gone in the blink of an eye.
You could tell we weren't ready for it. My mother, in charge of only greanbeans and corn, was so delighted she had nothing to do this holiday she decided not to even worry about a green bean casserole and just threw a bunch of butter in it. My sister, in charge of the bread, came over with only four packs of twelve for three families, and ended up having to cook two batches of cornbread to make up for it. My aunt, in charge of mashed potatoes, forgot to bring the gravy. My other aunt, the hostess (and non-turkey briner), forgot to suck out some of the Turkey juice and ended up with grease in the oven, which meant it caught on fire.
Which meant we spent about twenty minutes standing outside while my uncles tried to fan out smoke, and the bread that my sister brought ended up... well... smoked.
Which meant the yams weren't cooked. So no yams this year.
And in the midst of all that, my five year old cousin decided it was a good time to ask the group what sex was.
This with a nun at the table.
All in all, another great Thanksgiving, even if no one was quite prepared for it.
Except for maybe Thalia, who spent most of the turkey time standing around my uncle's legs as he carved the turkey, hoping for a slice or two.
"Well," I noted to my theatre going best friend as we settled into our balcony seats at the Ahmanson Theatre in Los Angeles, "This may be the first time we're older than most of the people in here."
"It's Spring Awakening," she responded, flapping open her program and settling down. "It's the new Rent."
Fitting, I thought, as I eyed the crowd of young teens and twenty-somethings crowded together chattering excitedly in the 'cheap seats' (which for theatre, is an 20 bucks). Rent, the celebration of life and study of AIDS in the Bohemian slums of Alphabet City during the nineties, was a cultural, controversional phenomeon that lasted on Broadway for ten years. The rock musical based on the opera 'La Boheme' featured drag queens, lesbians, drug users, and the plea to ignore conventional shame and live for the moment and who you truly are.
The exploration of shame as dicated by society may be one of the few things that bridge together Rent with it's perceived successor, Spring Awakening.
With music by artist Duncan Sheik, Spring Awakening reimagines the original play of the same name with some added rock numbers, which serve to express what these sexually repressed kids stuck in the onslaught of puberty in 19th century Germany can not.
At a critical point in their lives, these adolescents struggle to come to grips with their newly discovered sexual urges. Because their world is lined with strict morality and expecation, there is no one they can turn to to understand them but each other, and the result is tragic: the blind leading the blind.
There is handsome Melchior, almost too brilliant for his own good. He has discovered the truth in books, and has developed his own ideas about sexuality, government and shame. In his teenage arrogance, he takes under his wing a far less confident lad named Moritz. Moritz, struggling to pass his classes and aware of the consequences that will befall him should he fail, unravels in the face of his increased sexual distraction.
Their old childhood friends Ilse and Wendla face extreme opposites. Sheltered Wendla is naively curious and innocent. Protected her entire life, she does not understand why she cannot wear her too-short girl dresses and begs her mother to explain to her about where children come from, but is rebuffed and therefore remains ignorant. Ilse, however, beaten and sexually abused as a child, has become a outcast.
These four characters, along with their classmates, fumble with the urges they cannot ignore but can never speak of to the adults meant to protect them and keep them from harm. Their pain and wonder is instead released through song, accompanied with angry guitar riffs or a haunting melody plucked out on a piano.
Unfortunately, the silence of the adults, and each teenager's desperation to understand and cope with their own changes fit together to create a tragic ending for the four pair of childhood friends.
Yeah. It's not the cheeriest musical you're going to find (Rent, with all the aids and the dying, still ends much more happily). Instead Spring Awakening instead seeks to transcend the time period to speak to every person who has grappled with the frightening onset of puberty and it's accompanying shame. It seeks to speak what has not dared be spoken.
It's raw and frank and seeks to prove it with bared breasts and bared butt, and a lot of cursing and rage. Because that's what it's like to be a teenager.
I was fortunate to catch a production of the smaller, less known play that preceded the musical a few months ago, and as a result, found myself torn. While Spring Awakening is powerful, I preferred the less preachy, darker quality of the stage play than the musical, awesome soundtrack not withstanding. Still, it's a musical worth seeing for the amazing performances and frank reminder that being a teenager can be a literal hell. As an adult in her late twenties, I find myself not missing it. I can barely figure myself out now, but in high school?
Forget it.
Sadly, Rent has finally closed its Broadway doors after it's long run. Shockingly, Spring Awakening is soon to follow, a victim of a slow economy and a slough of strikes that have hit Broadway. Catch it while you can.
Just don't bring your parents. Or your kids. Unless you're ready to answer every question this show asks.
"What's burning?" you ask. Oh, that's just Los Angeles.
Seriously.
You walk outside, and the smell of burning overrides your senses. You smell the smoke, clogging up your nostrils and making you pop an extra Zyrtex. You see it darkening the sky like a really bad smog day and creating crazy colors at sunset as the pollution bumps off the ozone. You see it in the flecks of ash that mock you cruelly like faux snowflakes as you open your car door.
It would be ironic if it weren't so terribly crazy and sad.
The air pollution was enough of a concern for me and my allergies to call off the weekly hike at Runyon. I suppose that was fine for me. I consider Runyon my weekly exercise in discovering how horribly out of shape I am, as I walk around the trail and discover sweaty demi-Gods racing up the hill next to their pooches, wrinkled frowns of concentration on their faces as they hold their weights or water bottles and careen past me for the second or third time. And they do it in their sweatshirts. SWEATSHIRTS. In 90 degree weather! What is WRONG with them?
Then again, nothing should surprise me anymore.
I'm living in a land of limitless scope: where ash takes the place of snow, where a dirt road in a hill less than a mile away from Hollywood Boulevard is considered a nature trail and roughing it, and where I look out of the window of my building at work one evening and discover the magnificant sight of red car lights blinking up and down Santa Monica Boulecard as the shouts of thousands of protestors making their way down the street float up to my ears on the twenty-sixth floor, campaigning for civil rights.
It turns into the kind of week where you forget what it was like to be normal.
And then you wonder why you would ever want to waste time trying to be normal, and concentrate instead of worrying about whether or not a hawk is going to sneak into your backyard to eat your chihuahua.
I suppose this is the problem when you've got a pops who used to grow up on a farm and has a green thumb. Even if you live in smoggy, congested Los Angeles, you're going to have a little bit of a farmer's paradise in the backyard. It's a necessary evil. Thanks to my father, we have avocados, plums, figs, persimmons, pineapples, chilies, lemons, oranges, tomatoes, jalapenos, and God knows what else growing behind our house, which, I have to admit, can be very nice.
It attracts a lot of wildlife to our backyard that we normally wouldn't see in the city, and it's not uncommon to see a menagarie of birds and squirrels in our trees, fighting to get to the fruit before we can.
This morning, however, I got a close encounter of the natural kind that was both breathtaking and frightening.
Running late, I was jogging into the backyard to go to the backhouse for a frozen meal for lunch. We do this because our freezer in our REGULAR house is stuffed, and so any frozen meals get regulated to my grandmother's freeezr because she has the room (I know. It's fascinating.). On my way, I passed underneath the avocado tree, and was startled when I heard the massive flutter of wings and branches above me.
I glanced up and stopped dead in my tracks. On the lowest branch, no more than four feet above me, I was staring straight at a hawk. A huge hawk. A beautiful, majestic bird of prey.
"Oh my God," I found myself breathing out loud. "You're a long way from home, aren't you?"
Immediately, I backed away, and scrambled into my house for my camera (Because I'm a geek, and the first thing I thought was, 'This is SO going in my blog!'), but when I returned, the bird was nowhere to be found.
Saddened, I began to circle the avocado tree, and stopped short when I came across a mess of feathers and flesh on the ground. I glanced up, and again, on the lowest branch, I discovered the picked over, freshly eaten carcass of a pigeon, feet attached.
Naturally, I took pictures. There's something wrong with me.
But it was at that time when I heard the jingle of a collar, and I looked back to the house and realized my Chihuahua had followed me out.
My little chihuahua. Who, at 6 pounds, is a fat chihuahua, and yet, still no bigger than a pigeon.
"Oh..." I breathed. "Crap."
This is the problem. My dog is an indoor dog, but she absolutely LOVES the backyard. She loves to sit out there and sun herself, to bark at squirrels and birds, and every morning she goes out first thing to take care of business.
Because the backyard is closed off from everything, at times we just let her roam out there with Lucy, our poodle.
Finding a hawk in our backyard is the equivalent of discovering a serial killer in your kid's playground.
Thalia went about her business, and I stepped up the search, walking around my backyard in my work clothes (a snazzy sweater and black pants with Harley boots, cause I like to keep it real) and my camera, and moved over to where my dog was peeing, and glanced up.
Sure enough, there was the beautiful, dangerous, killer bird, cocking it's head and looking down with interest at the fat teeny dog moving happily around.
I reached up and with a flash, took a picture. It took offense, and with a graceful expanse of its wings, soared above us over the backhouse and out of the yard.
Concerned about the potential horrible death my dog would face should the hawk decide it was an easy meal, I gave my dad a call on my cell phone and related the news. His response?
"Oh. So that's what's been killing the birds. I thought it was the cats."
Honestly, I had no idea what to expect, but the play was free and I had always wanted to visit the Kirk Douglas Theatre. Nestled in the middle of downtown Culver City, I drove past it every day on my way home from work, but my type of theatre-fare tends to be fast-moving musicals, not slow moving plays. Mostly because I find it impossible to sit still for any length of time unless I'm totally absorbed (thanks to my ADHD).
And when I heard what the play was about I nearly choked in a disbelieving guffaw. 'This Beautiful City' was crafted together by a group of playwrights from a theatre company called 'The Civilians' who visited Colorado Springs. I know nothing about Colorado Springs, except that that is where Focus On the Family is from. Apparently, according to the play, it is also the Christian evangelical capitol of the world. And the lady who wrote 'America the Beautiful' wrote the song there. Because of the Rockies.
So basically, at first glance, this play is about a city. My inappropriate urge to laugh came not from snarky wonder, but from an unfortunate image of sitting through something of 'Waitingfor Guffman' proportions.
What instead unfolded was a fascinating character study of life in an area where the Christians are working hard to 'take the city for Christ' while the other denizens work just as hard to claim bits and pieces for themselves. It didn't hurt that the team descended on the town in the midst of a proverbial (and relevant, considering what is going on in California today with Prop 8) firestorm, in which an amendment to the consitution was on the ballots to ban gay marriage in Colorado, and another measure was requesting equal rights for civil unions. Also, there was this head preacher of the New Life Church (with 14000 followers), who unfortunately chose this brilliant time to get caught for solicitating homosexual sex and drugs.
Interesting time to do interviews.
The cast was strong, and the music, in the vein of the Christian revivals resonated strongly with me. I may not have grown up Evangelical, but sitting through some of the 'church' sermons, I found myself transported, and nearly had to sit on my hands to keep from raising them or bowing my head in prayer when prompted. The majority of the second act consisted of this type of performance, and as a result felt weaker for me. Sitting through ONE sermon on Sunday was always tough on me, but sitting through ten? It brought back memories of my church heavy childhood, somewhat bittersweet. I may still love God and will always be a Christian, but the division of the church on matters that I support (gay rights being a big one) is nothing new to me.
The result was an interesting contrast of experiences for myself and my friend, who grew up in Catholic churchs and was fascinated by the differences between them.
Religous experiences aside, the play delves into the town without favoritism and with ferver, quite a feat considering the hot topics presented. Worth seeing, but beware, depending on your experience with the church, you'll be challenged to disengage.
If you haven't seen WICKED at the Pantages in Hollywood, you're running out of time. The musical about the untold story of the Wicked Witch of the West (who, it turns out, might not have been so wicked after all) will be leaving the Pantages at the end of the year.
I highly reccomend you see it. Even if you don't want to. Why? because EVERYONE has seen it, and that way you can either be like, "OMG! I saw it too! I can't wait for the movie!" or you can be like, "I saw it. I don't know what the big deal was. It's not even that good."
I tend to fall in the middle of either opinion. I traveled to London to see Idina Menzel play the part she originated on Broadway, but when I go to see Idina Menzel concerts and hear people singing 'No Good Deed' or texting the lyrics to 'The Wizard and I' the big chyron up front, I want to commit mass murder.
But it IS the Halloween season, and what better way to celebrate than getting some of your Wicked on?
And here's another reason. If you go on a Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday or Friday to see the event before October 31st, you can buy your seat for up to 40% off.
Yesterday evening, I swear to you, my car was possessed. Not the fun posessed either. The lights dimming, non-starting, cd-changing reeling, cigarette-lighter-charging, weird kind of possessed.
It was frightening. And then I realized I just had a dead battery on my hands and it was less frightening and more annoying. Luckily, my AAA Plus membership has saved me yet again. Within twenty minutes, a hunky tow-trucker driver was there with this little battery guage and charger and had my on my way. He told me my battery just needed to charge a little and I should be fine.
He lied. My car was still dead this morning. Luckily, in addition to AAA I also have 'THE DAD'. Who is better than the AAA because he will get me a battery and save me the confusion of trying to navigate PepBoys.
Still. My car hath burned me before. But usually it's just the tires. Or the gas mileage (stupid SUV). Never the battery. Oh car. Why hath though forsaken me?
Upside, I at the very least, did manage to have a GREAT dinner at this funky place on Sunset called La Isla Cantina. We ate there via gift certificate, and we met up with Igor, the really really excited owner, who welcomed us to the establishment and also introduced to the chef. The place has only been open for three months, but the meal was fantastic, the margaritas were wonderful, and the souffle we had for dessert? Decadant. They also have Tequila Thursdays, which features tapas and tequila tastings and an amazing happy hour.
A great experience and I highly recommend checking out. Reasonable prices, amazing food with some home cooked flair and high class presentation, and did I mention the tequila? You should go. Tell them Melissa sent you. They won't remember me, but I'm sure Igor will be thrilled regardless.
Also, here's a pretty fantastic deal if you want to get to a theatre but, like me, you don't necessarily have the budget to get there all the time.
Free Night of Theatre 2008, which features free tickets to select theatres around the country for featured plays in over 120 cities in the month of Octobor.
But you need to reserve your tickets now, beacuse they're free, and because of that? They're going really really fast. To be honest I shouldn't even be telling you this. Because I want them for myself. And now you know. And you will steal my ticket.
As diverse as Los Angeles is, I often find myself drifting out of my neighborhood to find the things I really want to do, which honestly, it's really fair to my own little piece of Los Angeles. It's just that I've lived there for 18 years, and to be honest, you just sometimes forget what's there.
But there is a certain charm to living on the cusp of the ghetto, right smack dab in the middle of the city. I live two blocks away from my alma mater, USC, and just five minutes from the Staples Center and downtown, and I often ignore both for the lure of either the Hollywood Hills or the west side.
That's not doing my little part of town justice. Just around the corner is the California Science Center, the IMAX, the Coliseum, the Museum of Natural History and the Rose Garden. Down Figueroa are too many restaurants to count, and further down the street you have the Staples Center, the Nokia theatre, and the lure of historic downtown with the gorgeous Disney Philharmonic, the Ahmanson Theater, the MOCA, among other sights to see.
At least this weekend I was reminded that as a city, LA pretty much rocks. I went to the Grand Avenue Festival, which takes place in the heart of Downtown Los Angeles, and features free admission and tickets to the Philharmonic, MOCA, the great theaters, and lots of other little things that are there to remind you how awesome Los Angeles can be.
One of my favorite things to do is go to MOCA, the Museum of Contemporary Art, stare a picture and go 'I don't get it'. I don't know why I love to do it, but I do. Because then I get all confused by what art is, and yet even though I stand in a room full of weird ass statues and a picture of a guy jerking off, I still find something that I like. That speaks to me.
Okay, so the big display of a bunch of fake trees didn't do that much for me but at least I can say I got to see... the bunch of fake trees. Fascinating.
The festival itself would have been a lot more enjoyable if I wasn't so exhausted, but there was some fun things to do if you had the energy. Bands, workshops, and even a huge group lesson of the electric slide. To which I say to you people: We need a cooler group dance that everyone has to learn. Because that one was lame even when it was invented.
Is this because I'm a sexist, egotistical, lying, hypocritical bigot? - Frank Hart, 9 to 5
My songs are like kids, and as I get older, I want them to support me." - Dolly Parton
My mother was a working gal in the seventies. She hasn't said much about those days, but even now, I think we can safely say that '9to 5 was the quintessential office movie way before we got 'Office Space'. It was more than a movie about empowerment, more than a satire on the working world, but it became an instant classic, with a message that speaks to every generation of woman (and men) who get to see it.
And you know what? It's also damn funny. Lily Tomlin, Jane Fonda and Dolly Parton were pitch perfect as working girls stuck in unique ruts, brought down by the ultimate man, Frank Hart, the sexist egotistical lying hypocritical bigot.
Needless to say, when I, the ultimate musical theatre junkie and lifelong fan of Dolly Parton, heard that not only was there a musical in the works, but that Dolly Parton was writing the music, Patricia Resnick (the screenplay writer) was writing the book, and Megan Hilty (favorite Glinda ever), Allison Janney, and Stephanie J. Block were in talks to star as Doralee, Violet and Judy respectively, I nearly flipped my lid. Quite publicly. To an almost embarrassing degree.
Luckily, I'm not the only gal thrilled to see this play finally come to fruition. When word got out, I was able to gather quite a little crowd for our September 9th playdate: my mother, my sisters, and my friends. Altogether, we had the back row in the Orchestra section, for what we imagined would be the second week of production.
As the date grew closer, I was pleasantly surprised to discover that production had actually been pushed back, and as luck would have it, our tickets were now falling on opening night. This filled me with a geeky sort of delight, because I've never actually been to an opening night of any really big play. As a Los Angeles girl, most of our theatre comes by way of national tours, small independants or big productions of Broadway Tested Powerhouses ala Wicked. To have 9 to 5 work out their kinks with us before it went to New York was kind of an oddly enthralling honor, and one I didn't expect to have.
The excitement only got grew when we got to our seats and I got a better look at the cast. In addition to the three ladies, there was Andy Karl (aka the UPS guy from Legally Blonde: The Musical), and Ann Harada, the original Christmas Eve from Avenue Q (who I got to see in London, where she re-originated the role). The thing I dared not hope for was a surprise visit from Dolly Parton. It was opening night, a given that she'd be there, but usually those kind of stars stay out of the way on nights like this.
Not Dolly. Five minutes before the show started the audience erupted with a roar, when the original Backwoods Barbie strolled up to the front of the orchrestra, grabbed a mike, and introduced the show. There were a few hiccups left to work out, she informed us, and promised us a few minutes of improv and gabbery if we ended up with an unexpected stall. This got my entire row hoping for technical difficulties almost immediately.
The audience was psyched, the theater was dark, and then the musical started.
Before we go into it, let me just say that we DID have a technical glitch, and as promised, Dolly went up front, grabbed a mike, and proceded to not only gab the hell out of herself, but sing a couple of songs: 9 to 5, and I Will Always Love You. Despite the stage manager's best intentions, cameras were flashing everywhere, and a few lucky people even came video camera prepared:
She was, as usual, amazing, and made a half hour wait for technical bugs to be fixed seemed like a thrilling, special surprise. Her willingness to mingle with the audience and her genuine gratefulness that we were all there was just another reason why the lady is a superstar.
But back to the musical itself:
In a nutshell? Not bad. There definately needs to be some kinks worked out (but that's what these out-of-town previews are for), and the opening 9 to 5 musical number has been tweaked to the point of non-recognition (perhaps it's not the smartest idea to have the musical start with a GUY singing 'tumble out of bed and I stumble through the kitchen'), but once the musical got going? Pure gold.
There was a lot cribbed from the script - most of the one-liners are in there, which can be a catch-22, and the storyline is changed only a bit. What is changed isn't, in my opinion, helping the story much (Violet gets a love interest, Roz becomes more than a flunkie and a full-on stalker), but there's a reason the story is so successful. It just works.
Megan Hilty is PITCH perfect as Doralee - she takes Dolly Parton's inspiration and steps it up a notch, with a flawless voice, and the double D fake boobs to prove it. Her rendition of 'Backwoods Barbie' was showstopping, and she delivers Dolly's quips and sardonic notes with a twang that is so damned sincere you're hardpressed not to believe it's really Dolly, twenty years younger.
Stephanie J. Block, in the 'straight man' Judy role, does what she does well, belts out tunes like nobody's business. Her transformation from lonely divorcee to proud single woman is fun to watch, particularly in her part of the pot-fantasies, where she sassily cha-chas around Frank Hart and then shoots him twice. Her song with her ex-husband (Get Out And Stay Out) was a little .... melodramatic for my tastes, I would have preferred something more joyful and faster in a 'Check out how Awesome I am without You' vein than the somber 'Get out and stay out but everytime you try to leave I'm going to stop you to belt out another angsty chorus' song, but she performed it well.
Out of the three, Allison Janney struggled the most. Not a surprise: she's a film and tv actress, not a musical broadway star. But she's Allison Janney, which means even when she struggles? She's the best. Her range was not what the girls' were and as a result, her slower songs lacked the same punch. This is particularly glaring in her ballad with her love interest Joe, in which they discuss taking a chance on love (Let Love Grow) as if they're discussing who went to the bathroom five minutes ago. Despite that, when she got going, and let the nerves go, she just had a blast. Her number 'One of the guys', in which Violet envisions being CEO of the company and finally joining the boys club, was pure fun, and she was at her best when she was playing ringleader in the musical numbers, such as the 'showing Judy the ropes' number 'Around Here' and silly pot fantasy 'Potion Notion'.
Marc Kudisch (who reminded me a LOT of Billy Campbell), was scene stealing as Franklin Hart. His song Mundania, in which he is literally hanging from the ceilng in padlocks and chains, was hilarious and riveting.
The climax itself was the weakest selling point. It seemed to wrap up TOO quickly, which worked in context for the movie but not so much for the play. The act 1 finale 'Shine Like the Sun' had much more punch, and a much better fade, but that didn't mean that as soon as the curtain closed, I wasn't on my feet whistling and cheering. The show did what it was supposed to do. It made you laugh, it made you stomp your feet, and the actresses, when given the opportunity, really allowed you to channel the excitement of the moment, particularly when they finally hog tie Mr. Hart like you've been wanting them to do since the opening number.
I heartily recommend the show. Since I saw the first showing, you might see a tightened up, tweaked up version, and if that's the case? You're in for a real treat.
You know what's morbid and fascinating? Looking at bodies that have been dissected and preserved.
Yeah. That's science.
Awkward joking aside, there is something truly fascinating about the Bodyworlds 3 Exhibit, now in it's final weeks at the California Science Center in Los Angeles. The project has caused quite a bit of controversy in it's unique approach to exploring human anatomy, because the figures that are presented in acrobatic poses, with skin stripped away, and muscles peeled back, were once living breathing human figures.
The result is a sobering type of reverant quiet in the crowd. These modern mummies, humans who have donated themselves for the right to live forever in their display cases, bring the human body to life in a way that I haven't quite experienced since my half hearted foray into anatomy in high school.
There are milimeter thick translucent slices of entire human bodies, bloated black lungs putrified with smoke and cancer, still born fetuses who, even in death, stretch out tiny fingers to the awed audience. A flayed acrobat displays his organs proudly, lifted over his head on one hand.
It's both morbid and celebratory, this in-your-face exploration of the body, and definately worth seeing.
Random fact - did you know that dying of a broken heart isn't just a phrase, but an actual medical marvel? It is actually possible to die of a broken heart.
Last weekend my sister came up from Dallas for the weekend. She's getting married, you see, and she's having it down here in LA. Which is great, honestly, but I'm not really the best ... planner.
Nor am I all that into frilly girly stuff. To ask me to go with you to meet with Photographers, look at wedding favors, and try on bridesmaid dresses that all look the same? Worse than Chinese water torture. I'm just saying.
That said, I still sucked it up and joined my sister for a weekend in Pasadena, looking at hotel rooms, limping through Downtown LA's fashion district and flower markets, and running screaming from over enthusiastic booth hosts at the Queen Mary's Bridal Expo, chanting rapidly, "I'M NOT THE BRIDE! LEAMMEALONE!"
It was a nice suprise however, early on Saturday, to wander into a courtyard in Old Town Pasadena and discover a dozen or so trees covered with little paper tags. Closer inspection revealed them to be Yoko Ono's wishing trees. It's a project she's put together in which there are tags and pencils provided, and you can write your own wish and place it on the trees with the others. Feeling sentimental, I grabbed a few and conned my family into writing their own wishes and placing them on the trees.
Though we already went to see her in San Diego, Sam found out she was going to be coming to Los Angeles, and immediately decided to buy tickets. The problem is, her usual concernt buddies were unavailable, and well, that left me.
Despite the fact that I seem to be attending concerts a lot lately, let me just come out right now and say: I don't like concerts.
Well, honestly, I don't like sitting in on place for too long in any capacity, but I tend to do much better in musicals (because I'm a sucker for story and music) than I do for long plays or concerts. A lot of it is because I'm hyperactive, a lot of it is becasue I just tend to bore easily. And also because I just HATE crowds (seriously. I'm not kidding. I can be in front of them just find, but do NOT put me IN one. K, thx).
Regardless, it was my duty to be a good friend once again accompany Sam to see Idina Menzel. Honestly, I was kinda curious to go. I wanted to see if there would be a different crowd than the mellower venue in San Diego, if Taye Diggs would show up, and if her set would change any.
Apparently Idina fans are crazy devoted no matter what city you're in. Before Sam and I went to the concert, we went to Taylor's Steakhouse for some grub, and on the way out, I joked to her, "Are you ready to get your Idina on?"
Behind us, there was a sudden gasp, and I hear a choked happy, "That's where WE'RE GOING!"
Two fabulous gay boys and their female friend looked positively delighted to see us, and began to immediately quiz us on our Idina knowledge.
Have you seen Wicked? Me: Yes. (I went to London! Ha!)
Have you seen Rent! Sam: Yes, original cast, baby!
Do you own both her albums? Sam: She has three.
Sam won that, in case you didn't already guess. She loves Idina like mad.
Twenty minutes later, a casually curious Mel sat on some really odd looking bar stoolly type of chair brought in for the occasion, flipping through my T-Mobile sidekick and casting amused glances at the big screen on the stage, which displayed text messages sent from the audience. I very quickly discovered that the fastest way to irritate me at an Idina Menzel concert is to text the lyrics to every Wicked song Idina's ever sung on the teleprompter. Seriously. I mean, I like Wicked as much as the next Idina fan. Hell, I even went to London to see Menzel open as Elphaba. But dude, we ALL KNOW THE L YRICS. You don't need to remind me.
Also, another way to irritate me is to randomly moo. It's a Rent thing. And LORD does it bug me. I HATE THE MOO.
*ahem* Moving on. We had a better opening act this time. This cute guy with a guitar who talked a lot about pain as he strummed. Don't they all? Then Idina made us wait for like, an hour before she showed up, and boy was it to some serious fan fare. The crowd itself wasn't as eclectic as the group in San Diego, but as I said before, they were just as devoted. Little pockets of gay boys, elderly broadway fans, screaming teenage fan girls, and pre-teen girls wearing Wicked t-shirts littered the hipster crowd, and when Idina showed up, the 17 year old girl beside me nearly started sobbing with relief. I'm serious. It was mad frightening and amusing.
Taye did show up, for those who were curious. Also causing the girl beside me to hyperventilate. He tried to sit in the crowd, but it was increasingly clear that he was going to get mobbed, and rather than suffer through that, he disapeared backstage. Good for you, Taye.
Idina herself seemed verklempt. It was the last stage of her tour and the manifestation of a dream, and as a result, she kept getting choked up, sentimental and nostalgic. Which led to a lot of cursing, because tears breeds embarrasment, and when your audience laughs at you, apparently lovingly telling them to fuck off is the right thing to do (they loved her for it).
Highlights this time were a cover to Pat Benatar's 'Heartbreaker', which required Idina a full five minutes to recover from her spastic headbanging ("I'm 37, you guys," she complained), and once again screaming at the audience that she was NOT going to ask Taye Diggs to sing with her ("and let him upstage me?! Please!" she sniffed).
The usual 'Defying Gravity' and Rent melody 'No Day But Today' were sung with amazing feeling, but my favorites are the little known 'Brave' and 'Gorgeous' from her new album 'I Stand'. They're just beautifully written songs.
Below is the music video for 'Brave'. It's weird. She strips down to jeans. It's supposed to be artful and insightful.
Is there any song more depressing than Tammy Wynette's 'Stand By Your Man'? I mean, look at these lyrics:
Sometimes it's hard to be a woman Givin' all your love to just one man You'll have bad times, and he'll have good times Doin' things that you don't understand
But if you love him, then you'll forgive him Even though he's hard to understand And if you love him, oh, be proud of him 'Cause after all he's just a man
Stand by your man Give him two arms to cling to And somethin' warm to come to When nights are cold and lonely
Stand by your man And show the world you love him Keep givin' all the love you can Stand by your man
REALLY? I mean, people sing this song all the time, but do they really listen to it? This like, the abused woman's anthem.
On a happier note, if you're in Los Angeles, please consider checking out a musical in which the women actually EMPOWER themselves : 9 to 5 the musical! Starring Alison Janney, Megan Hilty and Stephanie J. Block! Scored by Dolly Parton and written by Patricia Resnick, who wrote the actual screenplay of the movie! It's playing at the Ahmanson Theatre September and October of this year.
And if you're in NY? It's going your way next.
I'm going to flip through this playlist for some more uplifting female country songs... OOH! SheDaisy! .
Even though my mother fiercely denies it, I fully blame her for my country music addiction. She was born in Texas, after all!
I honestly think my mother is just paranoid, because unlike her, I tend to fiercely obsess when I get involved in something, and if I fully embrace her country roots I might play that music all the time, and then I might drive her to full annoyance and hatred of all things country, much like what I did to her Abba love. Apparently she can no longer even tolerate the opening strains to 'Fernando' without bursting into hives.
Fight it as she must, she can never deny her love for Dolly Parton. So when the opportunity came up to buy tickets to see the legendary boobtacular legend at the Greek Theatre, Mom could hardly say no to the opportunity to see a living legend. Even if she had to risk me over playing Dolly to within an inch of her life afterwards.
At the Theatre, the crowd was buzzing, and boy, what a crowd! It was the most eclectic bunch I've ever seen at a country concert. I remember going with my aunt a few years back to see Lee Ann Womack, and we were literally the only people in the room without gray hair. And afterwards, as we were leaving, we heard a little old lady complaining to a security guard that the music was 'JUST TOO LOUD!'. At the concert. Right. Not so much a problem with this crowd. There were the cowboys, and the cowgirls, and the dapper men and woman. And then there were the kids (who cooed 'Aunt Dolly' thanks to her Hannah Montana appearances), and the gay couples (who shrieked with laughter when she mentioned all the men in dresses and sighed, 'It is LA after all!'), and the rabid fans who would not stop screaming 'Dolly For President!' 'We Love you Dolly!' 'You're so BEAUTIFUL, DOLLY!'
Quite a mix, and it made for quite an awesome and receptive crowd when, unexpectedly on time and without an opening act, Miss Parton herself came out and started the concert with a snappy 'Two Doors Down', then went straight into 'Why You Come In Here'. The evening never slowed down. What's great about Dolly is that she is a natural born comedianne and storyteller, and so the laughter never stopped, and the great music just kept coming. Her boobs were of course big points of reference, as well as her smoky mountain roots, but it was self-aware and insightful enough to create just a living texture of the woman on stage.
A lot of her numbers came from her new album, Backwoods Barbie (definately worth getting, in my opinion), but she was unafraid to play the classics, and she played them with ablomb. My absolute favorite number, however, just after her 'Coat of Many Colors' rendition, was when she decided to 'rock out'. Her words, not mine. Apparently, she heard the Fine Young Cannibals song 'She Drives Me Crazy' and decided, "I could really mess that up."
And so she did. With an electric guitar and a huge house band and that great voice of hers. And of course, she killed it.
Why wouldn't she? She's Dolly.
Check out her cover version from a recent concert below:
When the ground started rolling. Seriously. Rolling. At first I thought that someone was just running down the hallway, but then it wouldn't stop. Puzzled, I glanced up and saw the hanging light fixtures above me begin to sway. And then I thought, wow this is a seriously long earthquake, and I'm on the 26th floor.
What's interesting about that is that I knew if anything really DID happen and our building collapsed, I'd be pretty much screwed. As in dead. There's an odd peace about that. I've lived in LA since I was two, so I just kept right on typing while my new work associate came out of his office. A recent New York transplant, he was certainly shaken. Everyone was looking for direction, and then we were evacuated. Which meant a long trek down 26 floors.
Seriously? I didn't like it. I don't know how firemen do it. My legs hurt so much right now. I need a massage.
Posts
