While this heartwarming story may have galvanized the universe to merit this Dazzler of the Day honor for him, Claybourne Elder has been dazzling the world for years. It’s all culminating with the one-two entertainment knockout he’s executing right now as he navigates the sparkling world of HBO’s ‘The Gilded Age’ at the same time he’s treading the boards in ‘Company’. Add this Dazzler of the Day crowning to it and he’s got a legendary triumvirate in magical motion.
Birthday boy Jerry Mitchell easily earns his first Dazzler of the Day with this post, which he can add to his sterling curriculum vitae (which probably doesn’t include his Hunk of the Day honor seen here). Mitchell is a Broadway superstar, from his time treading the boards to the many producing/directing/choreographing/too-many-slashes-to-mention efforts. His brilliance and genius are in evidence on the stage, but more importantly is the heart ad soul he puts into everything including all of his Broadway Bares endeavors, which have raised an enormous amount of money for the fight against AIDS. It’s so good to see someone whose talents match how much they care for others. Happy birthday to him, and congrats on this latest honor!
It was his tapping prowess in the recent revival of ’42nd Street’ that was broadcast on PBS the other night that sold me on Ashley Day, hence this Dazzler of the Day crowning. Many of us have been missing the live theatrical experience that was so sadly curtailed with COVID, so seeing this on television was the next best thing. It reminded me of the magic that can only be found on stage and in person. As for Mr. Day, his dancing and singing skills stole every scene he was in, and his talents more than earn this Dazzler honor.
Fresh from the announcement that she will be headlining the upcoming revival of ‘Funny Girl’, Beanie Feldstein earns her first Dazzler of the Day crowning. Having made splashes in all of her on-screen appearances, such as ‘Booksmart’ and ‘Lady Bird’, along with the recently-recommended ‘What We Do In the Shadows’, she’s poised on the brink of superstardom. A Broadway debut in the spectacular Bette Midler-helmed ‘Hello, Dolly!’ was only the beginning.
Broadway performer Kyle Dean Massey was part of the recent revival of ‘Company’ but when the show announced its return later this year he had a happier announcement that since he and his husband were welcoming their new baby, he’d have to drop out. There is something refreshingly noble about someone who makes such a sacrifice for their child, and for that alone Massey earns his first Dazzler of the Day. (It’s an honor he can add to his previous Hunk of the Day crowning here.)
Broadway superstar and theatrical legend in her own time, Lea Salonga easily earns her first Dazzler of the Day honor. My Mom and I saw her magical performance in the revival of ‘Once On This Island’ and she’s been conjuring such indelible achievements for decades, from Eponine in ‘Les Miserables’ to the voice of Princess Jasmine in ‘Aladdin’ as well as her Tony-winning turn in ‘Miss Saigon.’ In recent years, she’s made a successful turn in touring, as well as album work, including a collection of traditional Filipino songs entitled ‘Bahaghari.’ Check out her gorgeous website for more.
Javier Muñoz was an easy selection as Dazzler of the Day, given his penchant for showstopping, scene-stealing antics in such celebrated shows as ‘In the Heights’ and ‘Hamilton‘ – and his personal triumphs over cancer and HIV give an additional layer of strength and vulnerability to his storied journey. The greatest dazzlers are survivors – on the stage and in their personal lives.
The very first time I witnessed the wonder that is Audra McDonald on stage was in the 1995 production of ‘Master Class’. She has been dazzling audiences ever since, hence this long-overdue Dazzler of the Day honor. While the stage of ‘Master Class’ was cluttered with the chewed-up bits of Zoe Caldwell’s scene-devouring, every time McDonald appeared she stole whatever bit of scenery remained with her luminescent star-power and seemingly-super-human talent. I was mesmerized, and my fandom has been burning brightly ever since.
A couple of years later I was lucky enough to see her turn as Sarah in ‘Ragtime’ where she once again rose above an already-impressive ensemble to achieve new heights with that gloriously soaring voice. Since those indelible Tony-winning performances, she’s gone on to win multiple Tony Awards (so many in fact that she holds the record for Tonys given for performances), made memorable impressions on film, and taken up the admirable mantle of activism in helping out all of us who have been marginalized in some way. She continues to dazzle and astound, and she’s one of those people who just makes me feel that the world is a little better than it sometimes seems.
Prior to this moment, one of my big pet peeves was YouTube stage videos in which the shadows of audience-member heads and clapping took away from the production at hand. But since I didn’t get to see ‘The Prom’ I was perusing online videos of its finale, ‘It’s Time to Dance’ and when I came across this one, I actually found comfort and solace in the immersive bump, shaky camerawork, and welcome-intrusions of the heads of audience members early in the clip. It may be some time before we get to experience that again, and I didn’t realize how much it was a part of a performance.
Then there’s the exuberance of the song and the performances of the actors/dancers/singers, and taken together they’re enough to lift me up for one Saturday night. Spoiler alert: you may want to have a tissue at the ready when the audience erupts into applause and cheers at the kiss.
The last time this happened the wreckage was much worse. My plans for our annual Mother’s Day weekend outing in Broadway were set on their head when it was announced that the two-part play ‘The Inheritance’ was closing prior to when we had tickets for a show. That leaves two gaping holes in the show schedule, however, given financial burdens of late that may be a blessing in disguise. We still have ‘Jagged Little Pill’ on deck, and there’s no way that’s going to close before May (unless another pepper spray incident occurs). What a disappointing world…
This isn’t the first time planning far in advance backfired. In the late 90’s I had really good seats for productions of ‘The Triumph of Love’ (which starred Betty Buckley in her follow-up role fresh off Norma Desmond in ‘Sunset Boulevard’) as well as ‘Side Show’ (starring another ‘Sunset’ alum Alice Ripley). Both shows closed just days prior to when we were scheduled to see them, so we ended up canceling the entire Broadway trip that year.
This time I’ll try to salvage what we can and find a suitable replacement. There’s not a dearth of shows, but there is a dearth of funding, and I’m too old to be bothered with foolish, reckless nonsense like overcharging credit cards. Everything happens for a reason, and it seems this isn’t the time for ‘The Inheritance’. I doubt I could take a deep, emotional two-part play at this point anyway. If you have any suggestions or recommendations for which show to see next, send them my way.
After attending back-to-back performances of ‘Hamilton‘ and ‘To Kill A Mockingbird‘ I wasn’t expecting to be especially moved or impressed by ‘The Cher Show’ but like the titular character herself, it proved to be surprisingly powerful, as well as glitzy, ridiculous, glorious and sublime. Calling it a juke-box musical may be a disservice, as that misses the important arcs that find their way into the piece, as well as discounting the nifty way the songs and re-purposed to tell the roller-coaster story of Cher’s life (thus far).
Attending the show with my Mom made for an interesting comparison: she recognized all the older songs, while I (being a latter-day Cher fan late to the party) knew more of the stuff from recent years. The show is the perfect bridge between generations, blatantly evoked by the three versions of Cher that inhabit the stage at various moments.
Musically, it’s not a chronological telling of her story through her songs, and that may be key to its success. By positing the thematic essence of her musical selections at key points, it allows for a more varied, though ultimately unifying, exploration of her extensive songbook, while injecting all the life it can into the narrative. Case in point is the exhilarating mash-up of ‘When the Money’s Gone’ and ‘All Or Nothing’~ two relatively recent cuts that perfectly set up Cher and Sonny’s journey to success. While their relationship is core and integral to the story (some might argue it’s the heart of the show), it is ultimately a tale of empowerment, survival, and inspiration. And that can only be accomplished by one.
Holding center-stage in a stand-out performance is Stephanie J. Block as Star ~ already nominated for a Tony Award. She is the archetype Cher, the overriding embodiment of wisdom and grace that this powerhouse of stardom has become. At once world-weary, jubilant, defiant, and sage, she commands the proceedings while knowing the exact moments of when to let her counterparts shine. As Babe, Micaela Diamond channels the younger, unjaded Cher as she grows up with an uncannily-wise mother (Emily Skinner) and meets the most interesting person she’ll ever meet in her life, Sonny Bono (Jarrod Specter).
Mr. Specter makes for a charming Mr. Bono, whose appeal was based both on comedic knacks and an unconventional charisma. While he was clearly blessed with the vocal prowess Sonny could only dream of achieving, Specter wisely and convincingly gets into Bono’s voice, and his charm, making his romance with Cher believable and endearing. After Sonny, Lady Cher comes into her own, as Teal Wicks bridges the emotional wreckage between young love and more seasoned romantic experiences.
When the three Cher characters strut the boards together, it is a Cher fan’s ultimate fantasy, and a self-aware nod to vanity and ego, because without them she never would have gotten to where she is. Countering the simple fact of that is the winning and winsome ways Cher’s own insecurities and disbelief in herself contributed to her widespread appeal. Even as she was blamed for breaking up Sonny and Cher, even as she stumbled into infomercial damnation, and even as she struggled to find her next big success (hello vocoder!) her perceived failures ended up being as inspiring as her improbable run of triumphs.
Is this a perfect musical? Not by any stretch, and it doesn’t pretend to be. Lacking a strong narrative, it’s more of a series of vignettes, some disjointed at best, but it never detracts from the emotional heft of the show. Is it a damn good time? Most definitely. Add to that the incredible talent on stage at all times (there really isn’t a weak link among them) and the cumulative effect is an enjoyable theatrical experience that prides itself on sparkle and spectacle over high-brow serious intent.
Befitting that, the costumes are delightfully scene-stealing characters in and of themselves. Nods to Bob Mackie’s brilliant alchemy with Cher as his muse infuse the entire evening, and the show must have single-handedly kept the bugle bead industry humming nicely for a few months. (There is a jaw-dropping fashion sequence that must be seen to be believed.) Someone once referred to those costumes as feats of engineering, and they truly are. Defying expectations and sartorial mores, they manage to elicit the notion that less is more at the same time that more is more, and when garish meets glitter, the resulting grandiosity is an amalgamation of sass, beauty, decadence and divinity. Cher pioneered the splashy awards show appearance, establishing the red carpet as a moment and event of much more than a means to a promotional end. Those outfits are as much a part of her enduring legacy as ‘Moonstruck’ or ‘If I Could Turn Back Time’.™ Never let anyone try to fool you into thinking that fashion is frivolous, and ‘The Cher Show’ honors that sentiment on a broader scale.
It never gets mean or bogged down by pesky technicalities, and while nothing is too deep or complex, this is more than just a celebration of Cher ~ it’s a celebration of life, of music, of some of the most memorable songs of this last half-century. Of course, for any Cher fan, even a casual one, this is a must-see. My Mom and I left feeling utterly enchanted, entertained, and more than a little empowered. That’s the mark of a good musical ~ it lifts you up, it raises your spirits, and it leaves you feeling a little bit better about being in the world. If we allow it to be, sometimes that’s enough.
How do you faithfully transfer a classic and much-beloved novel to the stage and convey the precise charm and power of the original? You don’t. It simply isn’t possible, especially with the writing and weighty school-taught history of Harper Lee’s practically-perfect work. Rather than attempt a straight-forward translation, Aaron Sorkin wisely reinterprets, to a minor extent, the story of ‘To Kill A Mockingbird,’ bringing it into the modern-day lexicon and leaning on the powerful parallels with today’s volatile social climate. Yet far from removing the grace and tenderness of the original, it translates its overriding themes into our cynical and, some might rightly say, evil times while keeping the story very much of its own era. It’s both telling and tragic to see how some things haven’t changed very much.
A noble yet deceptively-subtle star-turn by Jeff Daniels as Atticus Finch provides the bedrock foundation around which his children and the story at hand tread delicate, damning steps. When that foundation reveals cracks and fissures, and the steadfast archetype of Atticus gets shaken more than he did in the original book, it reveals the shifting tectonics of all the time that has gone by since its first publication, as well as a more complex reading of a character we all thought we knew so well. The doubly-nuanced layers of this lend the production its pristine sparkle and compelling relevance.
Daniels gets the star status here, but rather than going the easy route with showy theatrics or affably robust stalwartness, he underplays with almost infuriatingly-restrained nuances, occasionally mumbling what I’m hoping were throwaway lines (since I missed a few of them). It’s a genius move on his part, turning much of the audience into the children he so easily vexes with his unflappable and imperturbable conscience ~ like his daughter Scout.
Inhabiting a child’s body that manages to exhibit energy, awkwardness, and grace all at once, Celia Keenan-Bolger is the earnest heart of the piece, one that has to break a little to grow. As she comes of age during the summer at hand, she loses a bit of her innocence, not unlike the country depicted at the time. We all lose a little bit of innocence when faced with ugly realities.
In the world then, as in the world now, violence is ever-ready to descend, even in the unlikeliest of places. The heaviness of it all is not always blatant, but it’s somehow more vicious because of its hidden nature. Seen and sensed in a demolished camellia, a rumpled ham costume, and a broken arm, it seeps into everything, and when it finally explodes with visceral ferocity (as in the moment when Atticus spars with Bob Ewell) the audience finds itself in conflicted, exultant relief. Yet even in the most chilling and tense portion of both the play and the book, as a gang of hooded townsfolk come to deliver their own violent justice to the accused, the idea of violence ~ and the possibility of its eruption ~ is more menacing than any actual act itself. Like the book, this Mockingbird sings of tension and strife that thrives just beneath the surface, constantly threatening to bubble up at any moment. Atticus seems built to steer clear of such churnings, but when it finally reaches his own children, he has his own quiet reckoning.
As Scout, Keenan-Bolger is an admirable foil for Daniels ~ all exuberance and hope and reverence for her father. In his portrayal of Scout’s brother Jem ~ Will Pullen channels fervent, righteous impatience that sometimes boils over into anger. He wants to please his father as much as he questions his steadfast beliefs and methods of doling out justice. Rounding out the kids is a visiting quirky neighbor, Dil, who is impressively fleshed out by Gideon Glick, even given the character’s backseat status.
Much has been made of Calpurnia’s more pointed deviation from her role in the book, and though LaTanya Richardson Jackson ends up heavy-handed in some spots, overall she is the update that this ‘Mockingbird’ needs to make it soar, and such tweaking doesn’t spoil or destroy the intent. Who knows, maybe a privileged audience in today’s world needs such a reckoning?
The play begs for modern-day comparisons, a tribute both to its source material and Sorkin’s masterful update. Is Atticus the precursor or prototype of someone like Robert Mueller? Steadfastly holding true to the methods and laws and beliefs of a system that proves broken in the face of moral complexities and less-than-moral personalities? I’ll leave that for you to decide. This version of Mockingbird is ripe for many readings, and based on ticket sales and audience response (a rabid round of applause was heard whenever someone pushed against prejudice or patriarchy) this version may be the antidote to our troubled times.
The spell of the stage adaptation lies in large part to a stellar cast. It lures you in with its seductive southern drawl, it unarms with a little wit and laughter, and then it pounces with deadly accuracy, aiming right for the heart. It tears down what small bit of hope we might still have in humanity, while building it back up with the smallest of gestures. It’s there in the unsaid and unspeakable support Atticus delivers with a kiss to Dil’s head. The supposed innocence of a child recognizing the voice of a classmate’s father behind a hood of hate. The conflicted and ultimately resigned acceptance of what we can’t change, and the indefatigable audacity of what we might change simply by trying.
In the end, when Atticus is forced to bend his rigid by-the-book beliefs, it is heartbreaking yet affirming. We have to sit with our decisions for the rest of our lives. In the same way we sit beside our past, and sometimes it’s uncomfortable, and sometimes it’s wrong, and when there are no right answers, you do the best with the lessons you’ve been given, the life only you have known, and once in a while you can move your own moral compass, shifting it just the slightest bit, and that has to be enough.
If my increasingly-faulty memory is working, I think the last time Suzie and Elaine were in town with my Mom and me was in the nineties, for a showing of ‘Chicago’ (which back then was taking place in the same theater where we had just seen ‘To Kill A Mockingbird’. Time changes and shifts, moves on and retreats, advances and recedes, and suddenly we are back years later in older bodies and different mind-sets, but still thankful for being together. We should really do things like this more often as none of us are getting any younger. Rather than hasten the pace, allow me to slow down and return to the start of Saturday ~ our last full day in New York City for this Mother’s Day weekend.
It began in sunny form, with warm temperatures and blue skies that felt foreign after all the nastiness we’ve had lately. We made a breakfast of crepes at the Plaza Hotel ~ a brush with elegant living that stands out as one of those treats that is made all the more appealing for its fleeting and infrequent nature.
Following that, we strolled down Fifth Avenue for a morning of window and traditional shopping, starting at the fragrance counter of Bergdorf Goodman and working our way to midtown. It was a relatively restrained shopping expedition, more enjoyable for the company and ease of relaxation than any material procurements. Shopping is sometimes more than a means to an end ~ it is an act of pleasure regardless of outcome, at least to some of us. Being in the proximity to beautiful items, seeing mannequins and store windows decked out in extravagant fashion ~ they each lend themselves to inspiration and well-being, providing a pretty buffer for a world not always occupied with exquisite things.
The afternoon arrived, and with it the sun soared to its zenith. It had been so long since we had seen that bright orb, we took our time returning to the hotel. Eventually we made it back to dress for an early dinner with Suzie and Elaine, and one last show.
Aureole provided the sumptuous backdrop for a dinner with three of my favorite ladies on the planet. Suzie and Elaine were in-between Harry Potter plays, in the dim and dark space of an alternate land where dementors had taken over the world and He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named had come into power. Mom and I were heading into’The Cher Show’ ~ yet despite our disparate theatrical journeys, we returned to family form for dinner.
I’ve known these three women for all forty-three years of my life, and it’s always a happy occasion when we find ourselves together, especially in such an exciting set of circumstances. Even our casual meet-ups at someone’s home carry the glad frisson of a shared family history. For instance, one of our earliest Broadway get-aways was with Suzie and Elaine. At that time Suzie was more aware of what was on Broadway, and she chose ‘Lost in Yonkers’ and ‘Six Degrees of Separation’. The first starred Mercedes Ruehl and an actor we had never heard of before: Kevin Spacey. The latter featured Stockard Channing in the role she would take to the movie (as well as full-frontal male nudity). That’s always fun to see with your mother. (Maybe Suzie and I should have taken them to the Gaiety all those years ago…)
On that early trip, we traveled to various locations and times in the rich history book of New York simply by attending two plays. It taught me that theater was a safe way to escape from the drudgery of everyday life, while pushing and challenging your own perceptions and belief systems.
After dinner, we made our way to our respective shows. Mom and I ambled up to 52ndStreet to check out ‘The Cher Show’ and while we expected it to be fluffy and fun, it actually turned out to be unexpectedly moving and poignant, and more than a little empowering. To say nothing of the costumes, which rivaled what we had just seen at the Met. It just goes to prove that old adage: when in doubt, go big, go sparkly, or go home.
The night closed around us, and our annual Mother’s Day Broadway weekend was coming to an all-too-swift close. We had one more breakfast the next day, and Suzie and Elaine were joining us before we all boarded trains back upstate…
One would think that asking a taxi driver who picked us up at the southernmost tip of Central Park to drop us off at the Met would be an easy ride. After getting plopped off at the Museum of Natural History, where a big Tyrannosaurus rex banner hung in the entrance, I realized it wasn’t so simple. I also realized too late that we were on the wrong side of the park completely. Fortunately, the morning was holding off on the rain, so we made our way through the lush verdant expanse of the park, where we could enjoy what spring flowers still clung to their first flush of the season.
Most years we simply skirt the edges of Central Park ~ only rarely do we end up going through it. We really should do it more often. From our lofty hotel room vantage point, the size and immensity of the place was especially striking. (It’s also how I knew we could never walk to the Met in a few short minutes, particularly when rain was a continuous threat. It’s just too far for my lazy legs.)
Once ensconced within all the greenery, it’s almost easy to forget you are in the middle of New York City. Even here, however, and perhaps especially here, there were lots of people going about their day, so the idea of crowds and surging population was never quite that far. Once in a while, we’d round a corner and have a brief respite from the bikers and walkers and tourists, where we’d stumble upon something like these geranium plants, giving off a delicacy not usually found in the city. It was a calmer and more subtle variation on the beauty that awaited us at the Met.
‘Camp: Notes on Fashion’ was this year’s Met Gala theme, based on this stupendous exhibition. We arrived early in the day (despite our wayward taxi ride and park walk) in order to beat the crowds, and for the most part we succeeded. There were not yet the two-hour lines that greeted the great Alexander McQueen exhibit from several years ago, but a healthy stream of viewers ebbed and flowed past the pair of mirrored-fig-leaf-clad male sculptures that marked the entrance.
The thing about camp is that it all too often defies definition, and the moment you try to pin it down and label it is the moment that its very campiness departs. Still, a worthy effort was made to encompass the theme, placing particular emphasis on Susan Sontag’s epochal essay ‘Notes on ‘Camp” and using that as a guide for the wildly disparate ideas of camp which ran throughout the exhibit.
There were so many great outfits on display, I couldn’t possibly capture them all in this single post, so keep your eyes out for a follow-up post at some point. It was a beautifully-curated exhibit, captured in a gorgeously-crafted book (which at $50 was a relative steal) but I didn’t want to carry that thing around the city, so I’ll find it online later. Camp is nothing if not fertile ground for inspiration, especially in these parts.
For now, we return to the New York adventures at hand, which found Mom and I having dinner at the Hunt & Fish Club before taking in a production of ‘To Kill A Mockingbird’ starring Jeff Daniels. Dinner was lovely ~ in a myriad of soft lights and mirrors, everything looks and tastes better ~ and the play was a remarkable feat of wonder. It’s a brutally difficult thing to adapt such a beloved classic to the stage, and they managed to do so while keeping true to the soul and spirit of the book. Powerfully relevant to today’s world, it was quite the theatrical achievement with an ensemble that rises to the material and task at hand.
As much as I abhor Times Square, and the crush of people and madness of the world crammed into such a small space, it is always worth braving for shows like this. It’s also worth it to spend some time with Mom, haunting these grand old theaters, with their faded velvet seats that start out too small and confining, then expand into an entire universe as spun out thrillingly upon the stage before us.
In the moments before the curtain rises, the usual giddy anticipation pervades the atmosphere. We know that something wondrous is about to happen as we thumb through the Playbill articles and look back at others shows we’ve seen in whatever theater we happen to be in. At this point, we’ve been in many, and all have their happy memories and connotations. On this night, a new memory is being made by way of Harper Lee…
Every good weekend getaway begins with a proper itinerary, at least when you’re a Virgo. This year’s Mother’s Day weekend on Broadway was an ambitious 1-2-3 punch that started with the bang of ‘Hamilton’ and didn’t let up until ‘The Cher Show’ ended things with a rousing cry of “You haven’t seen the last of me!” In between were a few beautiful days in New York City, where we managed to dodge the rain and wind until the last possible moment, and by then we were ready to board the train to return home.
We stayed at the Park Lane Hotel, right on the southern border of Central Park, and thanks to the extra Standby Upgrade charge for each night we eked out a room on the 37thfloor, which afforded us the magnificent view you see here. I always forget the sprawl and expanse of Central Park until I see it laid out like this. A certain magnificence of foresight was required for such a lasting endeavor, and it’s a testament to the importance of proper planning that we have it like this today.
There is always a sense of excitement and spring happiness when we come down on this weekend. The Met Gala has come and gone, leaving the new exhibition behind to peruse. (In this instance it was a must-see show: ‘Camp: Notes on Fashion’ which we’ll get to in a couple of posts.) The store windows at Bergdorf Goodman teased at the theme, dripping with their customary over-the-top decadence. A bouquet of orchids near the elevators of our hotel greeted us in shades of chartreuse. All in all, beauty was conspiring to start the celebration off in the best possible ways.
For our first show, I splurged (and emptied my account) as a Christmas gift to Mom ~ ‘Hamilton.’ It was even better than I recalled it from the first time I was lucky enough to see it, as this is very much a show that benefits from some background listening and research beforehand. You can still get a lot out of it from a cold viewing, but there are so many layers of complexity and storytelling that you lose something if you’re seeing it for the first time. Luckily Mom does her research and I’d given her the soundtrack a few months ago so she knew what was going on both sonically and historically. We had an early dinner at Sardi’s, which was a comfortable, classic, old-school haunt we’ve done whenever we need a place in a pinch.
In the middle of the greatest city in the world, the shows were about to begin…
