Another Queer Jewish Buddhist

Naked Tenors Singing: yet another reason to be an opera queen

This guy is way hotter than Steve Reeves' Hercules for my money. It could almost get me to the opera. Except that I was more in the Lou Reed camp, when he sang: 

I don't like opera and I don't like ballet
And new-waves French movies, they just drive me away
I guess I'm just dumb, 'cause I knows I ain't smart
But deep down inside, I got a rock and roll heart
Yeah, yeah, yeah, deep down inside I got a rock and roll heart

Then again, I never saw an opera with a hot naked man singing in it. Clearly not a role for the late Pavarotti.

Does Professor Henry Higgins Have Asperger’s Syndrome?

Roundabout has a love affair with Shaw. Hardly a season goes by without a revival of one of his plays. This season it is the Ur text for My Fair Lady, Pygmalion. Leading a great cast is Jefferson Mays, who seems to play Higgins as though he had Asperger’s Syndrome. This is not a criticism — the clues are all there in the text, but of course when the play was written this syndrome and its diagnosis was yet to be recognized.

So what are the symptoms? An extremely limited area of interests that is followed with a monomaniacal pursuit. Difficulties in basic social interaction and an almost complete lack of social or emotional reciprocity that makes them seem insensitive and rude and that they are oblivious to. Language is also an area the sufferers of AS find themselves in difficulties — they may have a sophisticated vocabulary and they use it to speak at length about their abnormally focused interests to the point of boring their listeners.

Knowing this, I challenge you to see this performance and not come away thinking that this was not only written into the character (despite there being no understanding of this syndrome there have always been people like this we could recognize) but with today’s understanding, directed into the characterization by Mays. And as the curtain falls we can see his suffering.

I don’t want to reduce this great play or excellent production to this one issue — it’s just that it was so striking to me. But there was much about this production that was striking. The feminism of the play is brought to the forefront in a way that isn’t one dimensional, but captures all the contradictory impulses of men and women in their relationships.

Boyd Gaines, who is quite a stage presence, was very clearly one of a perfectly pitched ensemble of players. Clare Danes, who is called on to transform linguistically, also showed the changes with a subtle body language that communicated the emotional subtexts to those moments when she had to silently endure the chauvinism and classist assumptions of those around her.

This was such a meaty production my companion and I found ourselves talking about it late into the night — at least until we got to Vlada and the gin began to flow. And on that drama I will draw the curtain.

The New York Musical Theater Festival: Mud Donahue and Son

The New York Musical Theater Festival may be one of the city’s best kept secrets. Theater goers can see fine talent up close for less than the price of dinner in the theater district. There is much I want to see. I couldn’t get to The Cousins Grimm, but I hope to get to The Beastly Bombing and a few others. Last night I did get to a real gem: Mud Donahue and Son. For those who love the musical form, theater history, and family drama, this satisfied on every level.

Blessed with the highly talented cast (and they really had to be talented because this was a two person show) of Karen Murphy and Shonn Wiley, Mud tells the story of a young man who runs away from home to dance on the Vaudeville circuit. Obviously this gives Wiley the opportunity to show off his dancing skills, and he makes the most of it. But what makes this show more than just a bauble is the family dynamic of mother and son. This is a challenge to show since they are only together twice in the course of the play. The story is like an epistolatory novel: the mother and son read and write letters to each other, thus enabling the full family dynamic to be told with the economy of just two characters. We learn of the family struggle with the father’s alcoholism — and the descent of the son into the same abyss even as he tries to escape it.

That’s right, this isn’t the usual sunny story. Not to say there aren’t joyful songs, sweet humor and deep feeling. What makes the feeling deep though is that the tragedy isn’t overlooked. And this is what makes Karen Murphy’s performance the amazing thing to see. She takes the audience across the gamut of emotions with mastery.

By the way, what makes the show all the more interesting is that it is a true story, based on the real letters the son, Jack Donahue, sent to his mother. Donahue eventually became a real star on Broadway in the ‘20s and the partner of another Broadway legend, Marilynn Miller. Their story is told in the 1949 film “Look for the Silver Lining,” where the part of Donahue is played by another famous hoofer who came out of Vaudeville, Ray Bolger.

There are about 4 more performances. Go. Hey, Shonn is cute as they come and there wasn’t a woman or man in the house who didn’t lose their heart to him. But cute only gets you so far. That young man is a powerhouse of talent. And he’s more than matched by Murphy. For $20 how can you lose?

Next on my agenda at the festival, if I can get tickets, is The Last Starfighter on Friday. Can’t wait. Yet another reason to love New York City.

From Scissorhands to Razorhands: Depp in Sweeney Todd

Once, many years ago I heard someone spoken of as scary sexy.

It's never how I thought of the part of Sweeney Todd, despite the number of productions I've seen in varous cities around the world.

Of course, like all of us, I'd heard that Mr. D. was going to play the part in the movie. Now it's not for lack of imagination, but given that I'd never seen ST as an object of desire it didn't occur to me that when J.D. took on the role that his own smoldering sensuality would be imparted to the part.

And then I saw this poster.

OMG. And duh.

That said, the film version of A Little Night Music, despite an all star cast, was a complete disaster. So I am nervous.

And lets be clear — ST is not exactly mainstream entertainment. Or for that matter music that's pleasant. The monotonous melody drills into your skull like Steve Martin's sadistic dentist in Little Shop of Horrors.

But somehow, seeing this poster, and the photo below, I am excited. And I don't mean aroused. I mean eager and thrilled at how this translation to film may really work in ways that a Broadway musical hasn't seen in years.

Don't talk to me about Hairspray, It's fun and wonderful and I love it, but it is made for the screen since it is completely self aware and filled with winks — ST should have none of this if it is to work. In fact, it can show the cesspool that was VIctorian London in ways we've never seen on film:

"There's a hole in the world like a great black pit
And it's filled with people who are filled with shit
And the vermin of the world inhabit it..." 

Just the perfect film for the holidays, eh? Works for me. Thanks to Tom and Steven for sending this on.

What's the point of a revolution without general copulation?

Two days to Bastille Day. The day when French means losing head instead of giving it. And when are we going to see a serious revival of Marat/Sade?

In the meantime, celebrate the political movement that gave the world the metric system with dinner at Restaurant Florent. Oh yes, and that fine film of Dickens' Tale of Two Cities starring heart throb Ronald Colman. "Tis a far, far better thing I do..." The frames by the way, are from the comic book that first taught me all about the French Revolution, a gem from Classics Illustrated. American manga lost to history.

The Most Important Gay Memoir of the 20th Century — A Conversation with Stephen Pascal, Editor of The Grand Surprise: The Journals of Leo Lerman

Mae West is reputed to have said, “Keep a diary and one day it will keep you.” While Leo Lerman never published his journals and diaries in his lifetime, it has enough naughty gossip, hidden history and sheer human insight to find itself on the bestseller list for a while.

Mae West herself doesn’t show up in the book, though several drag versions of both Mae and Marlene Dietrich to name a few do turn up in passages about gay speakeasies in the 1930s. And of course, the real  Marlene Dietrich is everywhere in The Grand Surprise, along with Maria Callas, Truman Capote, Cary Grant, Philip Johnson, Greta Garbo, Josephine Baker, Henry Kissinger, Jackie Onassis… well just about every major figure in art, music, film, theater, fashion, politics and literature in the 20th Century.

The press has already started to feed on the revelations about the bisexual affairs of Steve McQueen and Yul Brynner. And while the book is chock full of the guilty pleasure of this kind of gossip, the book is a revelation deeper and more moving for those who are willing to read it from start to finish instead of browsing the index for celebrity names. 

Stephen Pascal, who worked for Lerman for 12 years as his assistant, has edited the 50 years worth of journals into a coherent story. And he knows that many people will be tempted to simply browse, or compulsively browse. Over dinner and a bottle of fine Bordeaux last week we talked about Leo’s story, and the story of his editing the journals.

AQJB: I have to admit, I haven’t been able to avoid browsing the index looking for names. There are just so many, and so many juicy tidbits. And it’s a long book, over 600 pages. What will people miss if they just browse for these stories?

SP: They’ll miss some of the most important stories as they develop over time — starting with the Leo’s life story, and the story of his 47-year relationship with his lover Gray Foy. As well as his relationships with those “sacred monsters” Dietrich, Callas, Capote and others he knew intimately from the start of their careers all the way to the end.

His journals tell their stories with the immediacy of one who was there, the insight of someone who could see what was really happening, with all the bitchiness and compassion of a true friend. So you feel all their, and Leo’s, full humanity.

And Leo’s story itself is a particularly American story — the child of immigrants who worked hard, he moved to the very center of American society, and helped shape taste and culture for four decades.

AQJB: Let’s talk for a bit about his relationship with Gray Foy. This is a journal that tells the story of a loving relationship between two men that lasted almost 50 years. That lasted through major changes in the lives of gay men in America. First, how have people, readers and reviewers, responded to this story? Have you noticed a difference in the way the gay press or gay readers have responded from the mainstream media?

SP: Well, one thing gay men have been responding to has been the depiction of this relationship. — Gay readers have  told me how moved they are to see such an intimate relationship develop over time. There are so few examples of this in fiction or in other journals. One  reviewer in the mainstream media (whose gender preference I certainly don’t know) referred to the writing about this relationship as the “mushy" and uninteresting parts, but for gay men, who rarely have their relationships reflected back this way, well, it stirs up a lot of emotions.

The mainstream reviewers, so far, remember the book has been out about a week, but for the most part they’ve not really made a big deal about the gay relationships It’s just been acknowledged without smirks or insinuations.

But let’s face it, the mainstream reviewers, given a choice between writing about Marlene Dietrich’s affairs, or Maria Callas — or writing about Leo’s relationship with his lover, they’re going to focus on the gossip because it’s what interests people and what will get the reviews read. Really, Leo’s relationship with Gray was like any conventional marriage, except for the gender of the parties involved.

AQJB: Early in the book, Leo tells of his coming out experiences, going to speakeasies, back rooms and drag bars. I was stunned to read of a back room bar on West 72nd Street in the early 1930’s — and then of course I remembered the old chestnut that every generation believes it invented sex, and I guess I’m just as guilty of that as anyone. But I have to say that Leo didn’t seem to suffer the oppression that we associate with being gay, or for that matter, Jewish, in the early 20th Century. How did he manage to succeed and rise to the rarefied circles he did?

SP: As someone who must have been excluded from many places for being gay or Jewish, he very rarely writes about it. Really the circles he chose to move in, publishing, theater, art, were some of the more open places to be. And while his background made him an outsider, he lived his life pretending to be the consummate insider that in fact he became.

AQJB: Wasn’t there an incident in the 40's at the writer’s colony at Yaddo where he came up against homophobia?

SP: Well, he was certainly hurt an anti-gay comment made by the director of Yaddo, Elizabeth Ames, and it shook him up. Despite his membership in this elite young artistic circle (Carson McCullers, Truman Capote, and Marguerite Young were also there at the time), it reminded him of his precarious position in society and made him so uncomfortable he considered leaving early.

AQJB So everyone knew he was gay, he was out, whatever that means for the time.

SP: Well he chose not to hide, even though it wasn’t something he talked about unless you were a close friend. I mean, he was such a dandy that if someone thought him gay it would hardly have been a leap. And he lived openly with his lover, inviting everyone to their home. Yet few spoke with him about his relationship; it was a simple fact that was unmentioned.

AQJB: Sort of the way some reviewers in the mainstream media have dealt with it.

SP: Except for the fact that some gossip columnists have been running with some of the information about “stars.” That’s what sells papers you know.

AQJB: I loved that Yul Brynner had an affair with Hurd Hatfield and Marlene Dietrich. I guess that when she sang “See what the boys in the back room will have, and tell them I’m having the same,” she was not unaware of the double meaning we’ve always laughed about...(continued)

Another blogpost on Essential Self Defense

Saw it last week. Hated it. And to be clear, I am a subscriber to Playwrights Horizons, New York Theater Workshop and a quite a few other non-profit theater companies. I am at the theater every week. I don't get in free. So for all the bits flying around the digital space about bloggers flacking this play, here's my two cents: I'm sorry I didn't walk out at the intermission. I felt sorry for the actors who were clearly working hard, but were in a play that should never have been staged. And while I complain that companies like MTC can exhibit hardening of the attitudes in their lack of risk-taking in their line-up, the choice to stage ESD at PH betrayed a serious lapse of judgment.

The Divinely Histrionic Feminine: Kate Mulgrew in Our Leading Lady

Charles Busch has created a theatrical vehicle  that has as its central character one of the most famous 19th Century (overly-dramatic) American actresses — which means, in effect, a sort of a drag queen. Except that this character was a real person, Laura Keene, who was on stage at Ford's Theater in Washington D.C. the night that Lincoln was assassinated. The first act is a comedy in the style that Busch excels in, with over-the-top women battling each other in backstage politics that has little relation to the important national drama taking place outside the theater.

Kate Mulgrew as Laura Keene is simply a force of nature. It is rare that one sees an actress totally give herself over to a role of this kind. There could be winks to the audience, with a touch of camp humor. But Mulgrew doesn't go there. She gives this role every ounce of her energy, and in the small space of  the Manhattan Theater Club's Stage 2, you can feel that energy intensely.

Yes, the first act is very funny. And then the President is shot. Some critics have had trouble with the quick shift in tone. But I thought the shift captured something all New Yorkers have experienced. Because in the first act, Keene is living her own fantasy life. She has created a story of her life that isn't really true, and her ambition has fomented rivalries in her theater company. After the assassination, the life story she has artfully created to hide her gutter origins collapses and she sees herself, and those around her, as the wounded, hurting, loving people that they are.

Of course, it doesn't last too long. The trance of narcissism takes over again. But for a brief moment, everyone in the play treats each other tenderly.

Those who lived in NYC at the time of the attack in 2001 will recognize this immediately. Not only did the towers come down, but momentarily, all our egos and selfishness came down as well. More than anything in those first weeks after the destruction, you could feel a real compassion throughout the city. You didn't know if the person next to you on the subway had lost someone — and so we were all exquisitely sensitive with each other. You can see that very same dynamic in Our Leading Lady. And then, the rush of life goes on, and the characters (and we all) return to things as before. With some real changes.

Keene is joined by a "Chinese" assistant: Madame Wu-Chan,  a woman who is really as escaped slave masquerading as an Asian woman. This racial drag ricochets into a fun house mirror effect.  Played by Ann Duquesnay, there is a moment when her character Madame Wu-Chan finally owns her true identity and speaks to her employer Keene as an equal. But when approached by a Union officer who speaks to her as though she were an uncomprehending child, she replied in exaggerated shuck-and-jive speech to protect herself — not an unfamiliar situation and painful to watch.

Don't think there weren't laughs in the second act. There were lots. But the tone shifts, and there is great seriousness and import in this comedy. At one point, Keene's lover asks her to marry him, even though her full life with all its imperfections has been revealed. This is the mark of true love. But she replies that she doesn't know how to be in a relationship with anyone without secrets. The start of self-recognition throughout the audience was palpable.

I admit I am in the minority on this. Apart from the MSM critics, Patrick Lee thinks the writing was confused and that Mulgrew had to work hard to sell it. I think it's more than worth seeing for you to decide yourself.

While I have enjoyed Busch's other baubles: Tale of the Allergist's Wife; Die Mommie, Die...this play goes beyond any before to explore rich new territory. I hope Busch doesn't flinch, but keeps going down this track. It takes a master to be able to walk the delicate line of comedy and tragedy within one play, and in this case, Charles Busch was a true master. Or mistress as the case may be.       

Wham BAM Weekend: Edward Scissorhands, Shrew, 12th Night

Three shows in three days. Hardly my record (and certainly no match for the boys who are in a show showdown) but it sure was a fun weekend. It started wtih Matthew Bourne's Edward Scissorhands. Not to put a fine point on it, the music sucked. Starting off from the movie theme and building a full ballet around it was not particularly musically interesting. But oh, the density of the dancing.
With so many characters so fully realized as individuals, so richly costumed to capture that individuality, there was so much going on onstage at any given moment it was dizzying and delicious. Add to that the fine male forms on display in the pool party scene and it was great fun all around. Seeing ES at BAM brought back to mind Morris' Hard Nut, which similarly took an old story and gave it great depth and resonance by recasting many of the characters and costumes. Of course, he also had the exquisite music of the Nutcracker Suite. Bourne only had Elfman's score and new material from other composers to fill out the music. But that's the only place it failed for me.

Then there was the Propeller Company. They come every year and perform Shakespeare in fabulously low comedy without sacrificing high art. Consider James Baughan as Sir Toby Belch in 12th Night — first he vomits from drinking too much, and then takes a pratfall slipping in his own spew. Disgustingly funny. For those of you who have never seen this company you should know that the players are all men. The women's parts are done in drag, but more along the lines of good old-fashioned 70s gender-fuck: if a man has a beard, he plays the woman's role with a beard. If there's a low cut dress and the man has a hairy chest, well then, that's what we see. And any opportunity to use a bare butt for a laugh was fully taken advantage of.

I was also happy to have another chance to see scary-sexy Simon Scardifield — both as Katherine in Shrew, and Sir Andrew Aguecheek in 12th Night. I've rarely seen an actor have such a good time. As Katherine, he could shoot killing looks at his Petruchio with just a glance.

And to watch Dugald Bruce-Lockhart as Petruchio go from the frighteningly violent Petruchio to the high style Olivia the next night — this is great acting. It's one reason I live in NYC — you can be sure to see work like this. There was one scene in 12th Night where the actor switches from Viola to Sebastian's character in mid-step with simply body language. This is truly embodying character. If you ever have the chance to see these actors, don't miss them.