Kiss today goodbye, darlings, and point me toward tomorrow!!!!! There is still so much to report.
Saturday eve found Monsieur and I taking the scenic PATH train out to Newark, New Jersey (oh, those marshes!!!!!!! and Harrison!!!!!!!!!!) to meet and have dinner with Tom, my cherub, and see "A Chorus Line" at NJPAC. We had a spectacular meal at a nearby restaurant, Don Pepe, where my veal with veggies and sauce was so tender and delicious. Now, I never drink before a show, girls, but when Monsieur and Tom decided to share between them a pitcher of sangria, I just had to have a few little...um...sips!!!!!!!!!! The chicken dish they shared could have fed twelve people; since he was not going to the show with us, Tom wrapped and took the leftovers home. Only the desert flopped; what was said on the menu to be Cherries Jubilee was simply cherries spooned over a mound of vanilla ice cream, tasty enough, which we shared. No flaming chaffing dish, no spooning hot cherries and sauce--darlings, we were the only things flaming in the room!!!!!!!
Afterwards, Tom walked us far enough, like the Munchkins pointing Dorothy to Oz, to enable us to get to NJPAC. Now, really, considering it was "A Chorus Line" and had not been seen anywhere near New York in three years, I thought theater mavens of all sorts, most especially those Our Age, would have crossed the Hudson, to see this gem. But when we got there, even though our tickets were "Fourth Tier," we were told to go to the Third Tier. Seems the house was not full, so we benefited from this by better seats!!!!!!! I couldn't be happier, considering I was in Theater Heaven, at what Monsieur told the usher was "my favorite show!"
On the Monday after, I can say with certainty, that nothing beats looking into the black void of a box onstage with nothing but a white line drawn across it. The lights go down, the theater is darkened, and, slowly, inexorably, the sound of feet walking out onstage can be heard, followed by quick beams of silver, as the Mylar mirrors fall into place. There is a brief couple of seconds before something happens, as I realize each performer is facing stage right, in place, ready to start. Then the vamp is struck, the lights come up, and we are in Theatrical Heaven.
In 1975, my instincts told me I was seeing not only a Great Big Hit, but something that would be part of theater history. Which it still is. I did not realize till years later how that moment in time came to be life defining, one of the reasons being I was seeing it with my father. Thirty six years later, the dancers may look and seem younger, but the perfection of the piece remains unaltered. One of MY most perfect moments in musical theater--the last notes of "At The Ballet" ("I was pretty.....I was happy.....I would love to....") as the line falls back into place--still takes my breath away. We ALL have our own standards of perfection, loves, and this one meets mine.
The current company does the show justice, with nary a step missing. What with Baayork Lee (the original Connie Wong) directing it, you damn well better believe they get the steps right. But what was fascinating to observe was how over time the show has dealt with a modicum of change, as I explained to Monsieur afterwards.
Originally, Zach told the dancers, "I want to know where you were born...and when," and then the performers would respond with their own birthdate--month, day and year. Today, he just says "I want to know where you were born, and how old you are," and they just give a number--25, 30, etc.--without a month and date. Later, one of the dancers, Judy Turner, used to say, my REAL name is Lana Turner!" now she says "TINA Turner!" I mean, come on! Despite the show being groundbreaking at the time, particularly with its depiction and acknowledgement of homosexuality, I was struck how, in the musical number "And" Val sings a new set of lyrics; I cannot recall the new ones, but the original, still on the cast album, always was "Orphan at three, orphan at three, Mother and Dad both gone/Raised by a sweet ex-con/Tied up and raped, at seven!" I guess, in this age of "The Lovely Bones," that is now too much????? And in Val's monologue, she omits the name "June Allyson." Interesting changes which do not hurt the show, but try to update, and would only be spotted by those of a Certain Age.
Audience reaction was interesting too. I got the impression many out front knew some of the performers in the company, as they would whoop it up when one or the other did something. But a couple of things, as a veteran "Chours Line" viewer, surprised me. In 'Hello, Twelve, Hello Thirten', when Sheila sings "Darling, I can tell you now,.....your father went through life with an open fly," this would ALWAYS get a laugh, which annoyed me, as it was not meant to be a funny moment. I guess, judging by the current audience, they get that now. I have also never seen an audience applaud the actor playing Paul at the end of his dramatic monologue. And when Zach calls the group back into the room for "One," every performance I ever sat through had the audience applauding here. Not this time. Have they gotten more sophisticated???? Jaded???? I don't know.
But, girls, I was transported to Theatrical Realms. Monsieur, of course, had to scrape me off the ceiling, so we could get home. This was my--I am proud to say--37th viewing of "A Chorus Line," and I say with certainty if I had the money to make such a thing possible, I would buy a theater, where it would be performed in New York every night. And maybe some of those nights, with about six months to a year of rehearsal, I would get up there!!!!!!!!!!!
The show ended its Newark run yesterday, so I can't say get on out there!!!! But I was surprised more of us theater folk were not there. Still, after 37 performances, the show remains as perfect as ever, no matter who performs it. I will always have my memories of Donna McKechnie et al, but for those who cannot, seeing the show onstage at some point in your life is a must!!!!!!!!!!!!!
It is STILL a singular sensation, darlings!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
No comments:
Post a Comment