Cabaret Revisited

After reading responses to the recent production of Cabaret on the TUTS blog, I was inspired to write about audience expectations and propriety in the theatre on my Chron blog here.  But I hadn’t seen the show yet…

Now I have.  And though I know plenty could live out their days without hearing my opinions on the subject, a few of you have expressed a desire to know what I thought of the production.  So here they are…

Sidenote: My date to the musical is a friend and someone who has attended more than a few productions with me over the years.  As we sat down in our seats, he leaned over to tell me that had put on his “Jenni-theatre-watching-filter.” You may wonder what this means.  What it means is, in short, that I am a pain in the ass to accompany to the theatre.  I have a lot of opinions about what I see… and guess what!  If you’re sitting next to me, you will get to hear them.

TUTS’ Cabaret: if I had to sum it up, I would say it wasn’t perfect, but it was pretty damn good.  Certainly worth attending… and worth staying through the second act, which concludes with one of the most striking moments in theatre I’ve ever seen.

Especially after the good reviews from trusted sources and after having written the blog, I was hoping to be swept away from the show’s first drum roll.  Admittedly, this was not the case.  The set was visually interesting; the emcee was as he should be; the voices and costumes were fantastic… but it nonetheless felt like the first few numbers were phoned in.  (This isn’t entirely surprising given it was a Tuesday night after a day off.  Maybe they were just getting warmed up?)  Still, I was surprised that neither Don’t Tell Mama nor Mein Herr- two of the most fun and familiar production numbers- inspired too much applause or stir in the audience.  In the case of Mama, I feel like the costumes- though cute- did the number a disservice.  No longer was it about the lyrics or the choreography, but about watching Sally and 6 chorus girls fiddle with their costumes in an effort to take them off piece by piece.  (If there was ever to be a song about buttons, snaps, and the like, this was it.)  Mein Herr lacked the costume complications, but wasn’t much better in terms of pizazz.  In the end, Sally’s singing didn’t do it for me in these two numbers.  Miss Leslie Kritzer proved herself to be a more than capable singer in several of the later numbers, but her first two simply lacked panache.  Perhaps it was her stylistic efforts that obscured the lyrics, but the ends of her vocal phrases were dropped or thrown away in ways that ultimately undermined the camp of the routines.

It was just at the point that my hopes starting waning that Two Ladies restored them.  Cute, naughty… but just right.  (It was also at this moment that the exodus of offended audience members began.  Sadly.)  Nonetheless, the emcee was pretty fantastic from start to finish.  His was a different emcee than Joel Grey or Alan Cumming, but he won me over with his candid repartee with the audience at the top of Act II… as well as his holding his own in a kick routine with the Kit Kat girls.  Big kudos to Leo Ash Evens!

The moments I was positive the show was going in the right direction were the two back-to-back songs: It Couldn’t Please Me More and Tomorrow Belongs to Me.  The former was sweet and genuine… and was probably my first laugh-out-loud moment in the show.  The latter was beautiful- idyllic even- in harmony and performed by several Adonis-like men and a single dancer.  It set the tone for the reprise in a subtle way… hinting of nationalism, but in a less sinister light.  The show only gets better from this point…

The action of Cabaret escalates until reaching its pinnacle in the middle of Act 2, in a scene in which Cliff urges Sally to open her eyes to the impending disaster around her.  His insistence and her resistance are the jumping-off points for Sally’s final number: Cabaret.  And here’s where I get really picky.  Vocally, I couldn’t have asked much more from Kritzer… but it seemed as though the song was plucked from a review and placed into the show, rather than coming on the heels of having her hand forced in a stressful decision.  In a perfect world, I’d like to see that pressure underneath Sally’s portrayal of Cabaret… isn’t she blowing off steam in that number?  The scene following- which was acted beautifully by both Kritzer and Hanes (Cliff)- only emphasized this point in my opinion.

The ending was the highlight of the show.  While parts of the show were slightly off the mark, the ending couldn’t have been more perfect.  The gradual emptying of the stage, the unresolved chords hanging in the air, the desolation of a society on the brink of collapse- one could see it all.  And for that reason, I am saddened for those who chose to walk out of the show earlier, as they missed the culmination of all the vulgarity they witnessed and the ultimate point.  For the first time in the entire production, there was silence… from singers, orchestra and audience.  That kind of tension isn’t achieved easily.

And here’s the kicker: when it comes to propriety, Houston audiences should start with modifying their own behavior.  There was a lot of fidgeting, chatting, and candy unwrapping during this production.  And- as my date and I agree- the only things for which you should be rifling through your purse during a show are an asthma inhaler or an epi-pen.

The moral of the story? Go see it.  The production is far, far too good to be playing to smaller audiences… help fill in those empty seats this weekend.

Don’t Tell Mama, but Cabaret’s Dirty!

Am I just desensitized or is this a bunch of hoo-hah? TUTS’ Attendee Responses to Cabaret

Maybe I’m just a dirty girl, but what is all the fuss about? Houston- strip-club capital of Texas!

So I wrote THIS.

Tria Wood aptly pointed out that a tour of the Mendes version came to Houston in 2000. I even saw it… featuring Leah Thompson, who- despite being my childhood girl-crush and a capable singer/dancer- couldn’t act her way out of a paper bag on stage.

I see the show tonight. (Thank you, former colleagues!) Will report back with even more uninvited opinions…

Classical music accused of snobbery? You don’t say!

A friend of mine- who happens to be an opera conductor- posted a link to this article about classical music’s alleged elitist tendencies.

I certainly have opinions on this matter, but before I share them, I’d like to hear from YOU.

Please take a moment to fill out my very short survey… it will be most appreciated!!

So won’t you be my neighbor

Just a reminder that I invite you, at any time, to let me know when I’m being a jerk.  Go ahead.  Any time you wish.  But here’s what that means: in return, I reserve the right to tell you that you’re being a jerk.  Deal?  So here goes…

Howdy neighbor,

I know we don’t know each other that well.  I know that, despite that fact, we’ve seen each other in varying states of undress.  That said, you seem like a pretty cool person.  And it seems that you’re a pretty swell neighbor, too, despite not taking the trash to the curb very often and that propensity of yours to slam the door.  (I suppose you could take issue with my singing in the shower at the top of my lungs, so let’s call us square on that front.)  But I have to ask your opinion- or rather, your preference- about something.  You see, I have a dog that eats most anything.  You might think there are limitations to that statement, but… no, not really.  So, when I see him hovering over a pile of broken glass downstairs, directly under your door, I get a little upset.  When I see him trying to eat the cigarette butts in the same area, I am also not pleased.

I am not a detective, but here’s what I think may have happened: someone at your place was drinking and smoking outside and dropped their wine glass from the balcony.  They probably thought, “Whoops! Let me clean that right up,” went back inside to get the broom and dustpan, and then, either had a heart attack, got mugged or was abducted by aliens before they could take care of the mess.  I imagine, by the time they were revived, recovered or returned, they had forgotten all about the cigarette butts and broken glass downstairs.  And that’s cool- I totally understand.  Furthermore, I imagine since our yard is strewn with all kinds of interesting paraphernalia- a downed TV antenna, a rusted basketball goal, a variety of dying potted plants belonging to a former neighbor- it’s easy for a pile of broken glass to go unnoticed.  I mean, we are just renters after all.

But here’s the deal: I don’t like bleeding puppy paws.  And I really don’t want my dumb dog to ingest glass and start bleeding from the inside.  So, it’d be really awesome if that pile of glass could go away.  And maybe the cigarette butts, too, for good measure.  I would do it myself, except that I only have an ‘inside’ broom and don’t really want a bunch of glass in it.  In other words… I don’t want to.  So, here’s my question: Would you prefer I leave you a note about this, knock on your door and tell you, or passive-aggressively blog about it?

Let me know when you have a chance- thanks!

Cheers,

JR

PS: I know I am being a jerk.  No need to tell me this time.

New Soap Box Erected

The cat is out of the bag now, so here it is: some of the blogs that would normally be appearing here will now be posted to my new blog on Chron.com.  A Chronicle staffer with a sense of adventure (and perhaps questionable judgment) invited me to be a part of their City Brights stable.  This is exciting as it’s a new platform through which I might occasionally be able to share something of value with a different audience.  The arts are sadly unrepresented in most publications (excepting the NY Times), so here is my humble effort in the campaign.  You can find the blog, Heavy Artillery, in City Brights, in the Featured Reader Blogs, and occasionally on the home page.  I make no promises to behave myself and will probably do a lot of whining about arts funding.  Consider yourself forewarned.

Sarah, watch your back.

I haven’t managed to blog in a while.  I promise I will get back to it soon.  In the meantime, fun with drag!

I came across this picture of a guy friend of mine on Facebook and believe it goes nicely alongside a picture of Sarah Silverman.  Voila!

Boys, don’t underestimate all the great career possibilities that accompany dressing like girls.

Cheers!

To all you Twaters out there:

If you don’t want to read about my last meal, unfollow me.

If you don’t want to read my feedback on a movie or TV show I just watched, unfollow me.

If you don’t want to hear about the bizarre incident I just witnessed on the highway, unfollow me.

If you don’t want to hear the side-splitting comment I just overheard from the drunk girl sitting next to me at a bar, unfollow me.

If you don’t want to know about the great party I’m enjoying (where you just might be welcome), unfollow me.

If you don’t want to hear about the causes dear to my heart, unfollow me.

If you don’t want to see a picture of something that made me smile, unfollow me.

If you don’t want to see a clip of a video that made me cry my eyes out, unfollow me.

If you don’t want to hear a song that made me giggle, unfollow me.

If you don’t want to read an article that inspired rage in me, unfollow me.

If you don’t want to read more about the world news I felt like sharing, unfollow me.

And if you don’t care to know the details, the minutiae… that serve as sign-posts  marking the handful of notable moments making up my life each day… then, go right ahead and hit that ‘unfollow’ button.

But don’t put me down for sharing.  And don’t judge those who enjoy this connection- perhaps only virtual- we share.  The world is a lonely place, and we are constantly grasping for common ground.  As the digital age pulls us farther apart, must we criticize a tool to bring us together?  The wonderful people I’ve met, the fun quips of strangers, the goings-on at events across the country, the helping hands when I have a question… these are the things that have sold me.  With ‘140 characters or less,’ I know I am not alone- through the highlights and the tedium.  And that means something.  And doesn’t it mean something that I want to know the minutiae of your life, too?

They say the beauty’s in the details.

Thanksgiving

I recently returned from an out-of-state funeral.  Sad, as funerals invariably are, the event brought a family together that is spread out across the country… a silver lining when one was most definitely needed.  While there, I met a host of people and upon meeting one gentleman in particular, I remarked to my companion that he seemed like a genuinely kind-hearted person.  My friend responded by saying, “He is a good person, but he’s had a hard time of it.  The man has just never really gotten a break.”

And as I watched this man with his family- his attentive, attractive wife and his bright, loving children- I couldn’t help but think he was luckier than most.

As we are all scaling back, conserving, and minding our pennies, it seems we are starting to identify the unique opportunity for renewed perspective.  How can we obsess about the future, when the present needs our attention?  How can we get carried away with what we don’t have without appreciating what we’ve had and taken for granted for so long?

The silver lining of this economic crisis is that the details are being swept to the periphery, bringing into focus what is really important.  It serves as a reminder to us all to not let the next time we see loved ones be at a funeral.

Spacetaker SYNERGY Gala

If you love me, you will be here.  If you love a good time, you SHOULD be there.  You will have the time of your life- I guarantee it.  The last one I attended (before I moved to Spacetaker) was the best party all year!  I kid not, my friends.  Plus, you are raising money for an excellent cause: www.spacetaker.org.  See you on the 21st!

SYNERGY: Spacetaker’s 5th Annual Gala
Saturday, February 21st
7-11PM

Join us as we raise the roof in honor of our local art scene- Celebrating Spacetaker’s 5-year collaboration with Houston’s artists!

Tickets:

www.spacetaker.org/gala/2009/
$85 Gala Guest
$50 Spacetaker Artist Registry
$250 VIP Gala Guest

Honoring: Wade Wilson : Caroline Tyson

Gala Chairs: Tiffany Halik : Alton LaDay : Gail Rubin

Attire: Geisha or Bohemian Chic

Featuring: A Rooftop Geisha Lounge

Performers: Audio Telepathy : BooTown : DJ Sun & Soular Grooves : Divergence Vocal Theater : Opera Vista : Peekaboo Theory : Sahira : Leslie Scates : Travesty Dance Group

Visuals: Aerosol Warfare : Death Head : Give Up : Monica Guerra

Fashion: Aerosol Warfare : The Tipping Point : M2M / Jeans Couture : Blue Mambo

Sustenance: Michael Cordua Events (VIP Lounge) : Crave Sushi : Cielo : Collin’s Chop House & Whiskey Bar : Mia Bella : Striphouse : Voice

Sauce: Dripping Springs Vodka : Red Bull : sake2me : Silver Eagle Distributors

Gala Committee: Lisa Benitez : Dianne McAdams : Jody Schmal : Bridget Johnson : Beth Levine : Jonathan Beitler : Jenny Wang :: Elaine Dillard :: Christian Azul

Spacetaker Board of Directors: Jennifer Brugh : Elaine Dillard : Nicole Haagenson : David Brown : Linda Alardin : Federico Bauder-Mantellini : Carlos Go Boncan : Elaine Conway : Linda Darke : Adam Gibson : Nicole Laurent : David Mackie : Lester Marks : Thomas Nauls : Grace Rodriguez : Jim Stevens : Amy Tanner : Santosh Varughese : Tina Zulu

17 More

I wonder if the recent 25 Random Things in which my friends have been tagging me on Facebook is an evolution of the 8 Random Things Meme that was circulating in the blog scene not too long ago.  Either way, I have succumbed to peer pressure and have come up with 17 more facts I am sure you were just dying to know about me.

Continued from my old blog post, here they are:

9. I HATE talking on the telephone. My aborrhence verges on irrational. Chat, in my mind, is the best thing ever invented. Now, if only I could get my mother to start using it…

10. I had the most perfect cat as I was growing up. She was independent, but loved attention. She would even follow me as I would jog in the neighborhood. Now that she is gone, I have decided I am not so fond of cats. (Excepting kittens that I can play with, but belong to someone else.)

11. While everyone else seemed convinced that I was going to pursue the arts, I wasn’t always so sure. Among my childhood career fantasies are doctor, FBI agent, and National Geographic photographer. My new career fantasy is moving to Africa and becoming a relief worker.

12. I hate James Joyce. Of course, I know his writing is brilliant, but please don’t try arguing with me- I’m quite certain I dislike it.

13. I love Snake Bites. The combination of bitter Guiness and sweet cider perfectly balance one another. But I particularly like Snake Bites when Ace Pear is used and the two liquids stay separated.

14. I had possums living in my garage when I was a kid. They ate cat food and thus, had beautiful, thick fur and pearly white teeth. Thus began my love for rodents and marsupials.

15. I really like monkeys. I wish I had one as a pet. Or a meer kat. A pet meer kat would also be cool.

16. I oddly associate Tom Hanks with my brother. Somewhere between ‘Splash’ and ‘Turner and Hooch,’ I decided they looked alike. (And when they were younger, they did- I promise.) To this day, I can’t really watch movies in which Tom Hanks’ character suffers or dies. ‘The Road to Perdition’ nearly killed me.

17. I have a fascination with all things Asian- particularly Chinese. I have read more Pearl Buck and Amy Tan than anyone I know.

18. I have had recurring dreams that I am married to Adam Sandler since I was in high school. I cannot get them to stop.

19. I use to run track and was actually Long-Jump Champion in my district for… maybe a week.

20. My dad and I bond over show tunes. That should tell you something.

21. Speaking of dad, my father is adopted. We know very little of his real family. Very recently, we learned his parents were Jewish. Having many Jewish friends, this news has been met with a wide array of responses from “This makes you exponentially more date-able” to “You’re not the half that counts.”

22. I talk to my dog. And yes, I believe he understands me.

23. I used to write and illustrate books- from age 7 to 11. Most of these stories had plots blatantly ripped off from ‘Girls Just Want to Have Fun’ and involved rabbits and mice resembling those in ‘Secret of Nimh.’ But according to my mother, they were brilliant. Around age 11, I moved on to write Star Trek fan fic. (Yeah, you heard me right.)

24. My first (and only, if any of my puritanical friends ask) porn-watching experience was actually a case of my mistaking a video-tape in my brother’s room for ‘Girls Just Want to Have Fun.’ I was 9 years old. That day I learned there’s a big difference between the Sarah Jessica Parker movie and ‘Girls Just Want to…’

25. I am not above making a fool out of myself in order to make people laugh. That fact alone explains my willingness to break out into dance routines or lively squid/monkey impressions in the middle of crowds and in offices.