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I feel a bit weird, most days, writing about nonsense when the world is on fire. I don't want to give anyone the impression that I don't care or am unaware that there is more to be done in the world than share something I thought of while running last weekend or whatever random thing I'm on about. But it seems to be through the unimportant that my brain occasionally accesses greater truths, and when I manage to get those down, sometimes it touches people or makes them think (although that's not likely to happen today). I don't know how or when or why that happens, but the fact that it does is enough to keep me writing even when I fell pretty silly about it.

So! That being said, let's talk next year's Broadway in Cincinnati season. It's gonna be a doozy.

I was hoping, so very hoping, that we were going to get Come From Away next year. It launches its national tour from Seattle in October, and we get so many national tours in their first year that I had high hopes, which were promptly dashed when I got my upcoming season email. Seriously, though, this place is lousy with the arts and I have no complaints. My friend Bill knew what he was talking about when he told me to take a closer look at Cincinnati, and just this week I realized I've finally moved to loving it here instead of just liking it.

But never mind what we aren't getting. Here's what we are: Nine touring shows, eight of them either freshly off of or still running on Broadway, six of them (if my Broadway brain is working properly) in the first year of their tour, five of them in the first U.S. national tour of the show, and two of them the last two Tony winners for Best Musical. I was at a show at Aronoff Center last night and we're all keyed up for next season, on a heightened level of excitement that launched us into the very-energetic-on-its-own School of Rock. Love. It. Here.

Yeah, I think I'm okay with this lineup.

The one I'm most excited about? Not Dear Even Hansen, not The Play that Goes Wrong. (Look that one up on YouTube. I'm delighted it's coming here.) Not even Hamilton, although I'm in a differently excited realm than usual for that. Nope, I'm most excited for Fiddler on the Roof.

Why, why, why that one? After all, I saw it on Broadway. I've seen it live more than any other show, ever (that's counting high school and community theatre versions). What's left to be excited about?

It's my mother's favourite show. And as such, it's the first musical I ever knew existed. I knew the words to "Tradition" and "Sunrise, Sunset" practically before I could talk. I had wanted to take her to NYC before the show ended on Broadway, but timing and money didn't work out for that, so I promised myself that as soon as it came near either of us on tour, we were going. I cannot wait to share this with her--I'm going to trade in my great-but-miles-from-the-stage subscription seat to get us seats in the front orchestra instead so she can see every emotion on every actor. It's eleven months away and I'm already counting the days until we have what is certain to be one of the best theatre experiences of my life. (She already knows this is my plan. I'm not ruining the surprise.)

And that's why I'm so excited for next year's Broadway season in Cincinnati. 

F is for Flying #AtoZChallenge

Join me on the A to Z Challenge: I'll share a different thing from my new home, Cincinnati, every day for 26 days in April.

As I understand it, Cincinnati was a major pork market once upon a time, and the locals have been slightly obsessed with pigs ever since. Why the pigs have wings, I'm not sure, although I've heard the winged pigs represent the generous souls of the long-gone porkers.

Also, the local marathon is called the Flying Pig. I'm going to miss it this year because it's the day after the Indy Mini and I'll still be in Indiana. 2018, though, I'll be there with wings on.

Anyway, a few of the pigs, flying or otherwise, that I've spotted around town:

This was the first pig I saw in Cincy. And he's one of my favourites, as you can
probably imagine. He lives outside the Cincinnati Shakespeare Theatre
and I presume he's moving with them when they head to their new home this summer.
I don't know why he doesn't have any wings, except yadda yadda Shakespeare's
words already have fancy wingsipants. Or something.

Left: The little gal with lots of hometown pride lives at my post office.
I say hello to her when I stop by.
Center: Phantom of the Slopera lives at the Aronoff Center.
Presumably, one does not need wings when one is haunting
the basement of the Slopera House. I wonder if being a Slopera Pig
also earns 20,000€ a month? (Yes, I know it should be francs and not euros,
but the franc symbol is less widely recognisable.)
Right: This musical lady lives at Anderson Center, a quite nice facility
where I attended a work training. One of my coworkers patiently
held the door for me while I took this pic, because they've only known
me a few weeks and yet they already tolerate my quirks and foibles. They're the best.

Theatrical, Too: It's What We Do

Today's post is nothing but gushing praise for the local theatre scene, so save yourself while you still can.

I tweeted that this was as close as I was going to get to a
selfie with Brian d'Arcy James. He originated the role of
Nick Bottom and left the show last summer, but he's still
on all the promotional posters. 

Still here? Excellent! I've now bought tickets to three Broadway touring shows and visited the Aronoff Center soon-to-be three times, and every single person I've encountered so far has been wonderful. The box office staff, the ticket agents on the phone, the ushers--every single one of them should get their own standing ovation. I can't say enough good things about them, and they've gone a long way toward making me want a season ticket next year. Even farther than the promise of first dibs at Hamilton tix. (I'm debating a Broadway season ticket vs a Cincinnati Shakespeare season ticket vs a Blu-ray player so I can finally watch my LOTR extended editions. Stay tuned.)

Pretty close, yeah.

Last weekend I was gloriously reunited with the spectacular Something Rotten, which I've waited seven loooooonnng months to see a second time after I saw it on Broadway last summer. It was every bit--every inch--as wondrous as I remembered. I was pretty close to the front, so I could see all the actors' faces (also all their spitting), which is a nice improvement over last time. The principal actors are brilliant, the ensemble is a delight, and the jokes are fantastic. If it's coming near you, please go see it and be prepared to laugh a lot.

Also better than last time: I was surrounded by people who were also getting all the jokes, which was so much more fun than the calm and collected folks I was sat next to in NYC. After accidentally choosing a dud audience night for my Austin season tickets, I'm so happy to have been surrounded by audiences who came prepared to immerse themselves in the experience every time I've been to the theatre in Cincinnati. I can get used to this.

That's my delighted Cincy gush. What's an amazing thing about your town?

Post title is a line from the opening song in Something Rotten, "Welcome to the Renassiance."

Tell the Best Story

I seem to find a lot of use
for this photo.

I'm kind of a halfhearted podcast listener, because most of my hobbies are ones that engage my brain in such a way that I can't turn on a podcast at the same time and really give attention to what I'm listening to. However, when I remember, I start my day with Theater People (I know you're all surprised to hear that). Last weekend I listened to the interview with Kevin McCollum, who produced (among many, many others) Rent, Something Rotten, In the Heights, Motown the Musical... a whole bunch of things I like, in other words.

Towards the end, he said something that took my breath away with its depth of truth and I had to lie down just to absorb what he'd said. (See? This is why I'm not good at listening to podcasts.) And then write it down to share with you. This interview was last summer, before the election, but has only grown more relevant in the intervening months. (Emphasis is mine.)

When you take arts out of the public schools, those young people grow up to be adults, and they look at conflict resolution only in a sports model. And that's what we're seeing in our government. We have three branches of government, it's a balance of how we tell the best story, and that's called a collaborative art form. Our government is a collaborative art form. Unfortunately, when many of the people running our country were younger, arts were not valued in their communities, because of money. But sports were. So what do you learn in sports? To win games, you have to have a good defense. We are running this country purely on defensive tactics. We have to start having an imaginative storytelling: how do we live better as a world? America used to have the best story. If we're in a sports model, we're not telling a story. We're just trying to beat each other. Let's stop that. Let's get back to storytelling. Let's collaborate, because collaboration creates the bottom line, not money.

 He's not wrong, y'all. Not only is all this mentality of winning at all costs bringing us gridlock and wasted resources, not only is it contributing to the deep ideological divides that keep people from even having reasonable conversations with one another, but it's also only spurring folks to dig in to their positions even deeper and lob ever nastier shots at the other side. This is why the arts matter--why literature and music and painting and theatre and sculpture are worth our while. Because they expand our minds and open us up to other ways and ideas and points of view. Because they hold a mirror up to our humanity. Because they connect us to other people. Because they ask us to tell a story.

This project at the Guggenheim was meant to be
books that were never written. Don't let that be you.
Write your part of the story.

I had an incredible literature class my senior year of high school, and I couldn't even tell you the name of it or what the theme was now, but I do remember this: by the end of the semester, our teacher pointed out that as a result of the works we'd read and the discussions we'd had, every member of the class had come to see ourselves as artists. (She had asked for a show of hands to this effect on the first and last days of class.) This was the gift she gave us, as newly minted adults about to make our way in the wide world: she invited us to join in the great story of humanity and write our part.

I should look her up and send her a thank you.

Friends 'Til the Curtain Call

I feel a bit funny writing about friendship when I don't really have friends here yet. I have coworkers who are lovely, wonderful people, and maybe I've found the church that's right for me and they'll be friends someday soon, but in the meantime... all my friends are online.

In particular, they're mostly on Facebook, which is unfortunate because I've been avoiding that particular pit of crazy. Thank goodness for Twitter friends (many of whom are also real-life friends, of course, even though we've scattered ourselves all over the globe) and for the fictional friendships I can enjoy and fret over.

So I've been thinking about another fictional friendship that was torn apart, not by evil intent like last week's Much Ado gents, but by (perhaps misapplied) good will. In It Shoulda Been You, we meet up with the gang after best friends Marty and Jenny have been estranged for a while.

It all went down like this: they grew up together, along with Jenny's younger sister, Rebecca. Rebecca and Marty even dated for a while, after Jenny went off to college and left them both behind. But eventually Marty discovered a secret that Rebecca asked him to keep, and Marty knew he couldn't trust himself not to tell Jenny, his best friend, if he kept in contact with her. So, to keep his promise to Rebecca, he dropped out of Jenny's life. Without another word. Without telling her why. And Jenny is understandably upset about this when the friends finally reunite onstage.

Marty (Josh Grisetti) & Jenny (Lisa Howard)
rehearsing the reunion song, "Who."
Which is delightful and ends in forgiveness.
Source: Broadway.com.

So here's the thing that's bothered me about this ever since I saw the show: did Rebecca know how big of a sacrifice she was asking Marty to make? Did she think about what it would do to her sister to lose her best friend so suddenly? Did she even notice the effect she'd had on them? Neither character blamed Rebecca for this, by the way, although perhaps they should have. Instead, they mended their friendship between them, rather spectacularly well.

It was (probably) not with ulterior motive that Rebecca asked Marty to be silent. It was (most likely) with the best of intentions that he agreed. And despite her harsh words at their meeting, Jenny was faithful in holding onto hope that their friendship might return someday. (She still has him on speed dial.)

As with Much Ado, it's a friendship that was nearly ruined by someone else's actions. Unlike real-life friends, fictional friends have the benefit of structured time--everything has to be wrapped up by curtain call. Of course, in real life, too, we're also running out of time, with the added twist that we don't know when our curtain call will be. I can say, without giving anyone away, that I know some folks who woke up with regret on February 19, 2015, for having not mended a rift with Chadwick before it was too late. And there's nothing that can be done about that now.

That's as close as I'm going to get to saying the obvious thing, but please do consider the obvious thing just in case. Here's the second-most-obvious thing: it's not good to be the one who steps in between people. Goodness knows life is messy and screwing up is human, but to cause intentional turmoil in others' relationships, even without ulterior motive, is to invite trouble into many lives. Deal gently with other people's hearts and minds and emotions. Tread carefully before you cause a crack. You don't know if there's enough time to mend it before the curtain call, and it would be pretty lousy to face the afterlife audience as the villain.

(I sadded everything up again, didn't I? I wasn't planning to go that way, but spontaneous sad seems to happen whenever my fingers meet a keyboard. Maybe this is who I am now.)

Reflecting Better

A few viewings of Much Ado About Nothing ago, I had gone with a friend who, on the way home, mentioned the destructive power of slander as demonstrated in the show. I agreed, and as we talked, I said, "I still can't believe the most level-headed of the gents turns out to be goofy Benedick."

I haven't changed my mind about that. Of all the awful things that could have happened as a result of Don John's lies and Claudio's gullibility, for the fracture that arose between Benedick and his friends to have remained permanent would have been minor, but still sad. As it is, no matter how many times I see it, I'll always cringe at the argument between Benedick and Claudio. I'll always be horrified when Benedick slaps him. Watching such a brilliant friendship come to literal blows underscores how serious Claudio's choices were.

So in our post-show conversation that day, I went on to say, "If only Benedick had been there with Claudio when John tricked them." If only, indeed. Of course, had he been there, we would have no conflict to drive this show. I'm pretty sure Benedick would have been skeptical of John's news and his declarations of his own good intentions, and if nothing else, Benedick would have immediately acted to set the record straight one way or another. Instead, Claudio went off hurt and angry to stew for a few hours before publicly humiliating Hero. Benedick wouldn't have allowed his friend to do that to himself if he had been able to stop it.

See? Much better as friends. Hey, have I mentioned my
crush on--no, never mind.

I've seen approximately two episodes of Sex and the City, but one line has stuck with me: "Did he have no friends to mirror a healthier view of himself?" It doesn't take a lot to see that both Benedick and Claudio are better for being friends. (You can see that in Beatrice and Hero, too, but the women manage to express it without having to declare war on each other. As women do.) They keep each other in check, they help each other make sense of the world around them, and when they're apart they both tend to tilt a bit away from reality. The mirror they provide for one another is invaluable, and they don't even know it. Thank goodness they marry cousins and end up as relatives--I'm not sure how they could have coped otherwise.

I don't know whether Shakepeare intended this play to be instructive, but he still sneaked in this bit of truth: Friends make us better. And from a guy who wrote more murderous enemies than besties, I'll take all the awesome friendships I can get. (See also: Hamlet and Horatio.)

How do your friends make you better?

Good Tidings of Great Joy

I promise I have no intention of posting twice a day every day for the duration of the 12 days of Christmas, but this is a particularly Christmas thought, and I'd also like to try something new and get it written down before I forget half of it. (And it's a Sunday post, so as usual I completely understand if you skip off now because this isn't your thing. No worries.)

Friday evening I went to Cincinnati Shakespeare's Every Christmas Story Ever Told, which was hilarious and completely irreverent and full of good-natured and affection-filled mocking of many beloved holiday classics. In one of those many contradictions that helps make me who I am, I followed that up Saturday night with going to the Christmas Eve service, which was quite reverent and celebratory of the birth of Christ. Mocking one night, praising the next; that pretty much sums up my entire personality.

But there was a moment, a beautiful moment in Every Christmas Story that tied the two evenings together. The three actors were hitting the highlights of A Charlie Brown Christmas. Sara Clark (as Lucy) laid into Charlie Brown for his dumb Christmas tree, Billy Chace (as Charlie Brown) asked for someone to explain the true meaning of Christmas, and Justin McCombs stepped into Linus' role (complete with grabbing a security blanket) to recite the passage from Luke 2. Now, just as a recap: this is the same Justin McCombs who moved me to tears during Much Ado a few weeks ago, who I had to stop watching during the scene when Claudio mourns for Hero because it was too painful, and dang if he didn't do it again. I'm gonna stop going to Cincinnati Shakespeare if I have to bring hankies to every show. (Kidding. I so am not.)

Anyway, so we're rolling along in this one serious moment from the entire show, and I was just thinking, "Wow, are those tears in his eyes?" when Mr. McCombs' voice caught, and I was done. Tears totally rolling down my face. Was it the character or the actor showing this much emotion? Don't know, don't care. The end result was the same no matter which it was.

At the Christmas Eve service, the pastor didn't read from Luke 2. He didn't talk about shepherds or wise men. He read from the first chapter of John, including the verse above (one of my favourites), and tears rolled down my face again. (Yeah, I cry a lot. That's why I switched from paper tissues to hankies--to save some trees. You're welcome.) God came here. And sometimes we goof up with this gift, sometimes we try to hold it all for ourselves, sometimes we mock the traditions that have arisen around this day of celebration, sometimes we just forget because of the mess we've gotten ourselves into.

But still. God came here.

A very blessed and happy Christmas to you and yours.

Oh, That He Were Here: My First Trip to Cincinnati Theatre

On one of my trips to Cincinnati before I moved here, I was wandering downtown when I happened to walk past the Cincinnati Shakespeare Company. I stopped to read the season lineup of shows, saw Much Ado About Nothing on the list... and may have started jumping up and down on the spot, possibly squealing in delight. It's a blur, sir.

The set was gorgeous, and so is
the playbill, and as you can see
I had a hard time getting both
into the pic.

So getting my hands on a ticket was high on my to-do list once I had a job and a place to live, and I chose the night of the first preview just for grins. First: the theatre itself is a great space, and while this is Cincy Shakes' last season in this building before they move to their new theatre, it's easy to see why they describe it as their beloved home.

Second: this company. WOW, this company. Much Ado is my favourite for good reason, because it's outrageously hilarious in addition to teaching us a little something about the destructive power of slander, and no two shows that I've seen have taken the same direction with any of the jokes, which keeps a 400-year-old show fresh and delightful every time. Which is why I've bought another ticket to closing night this Saturday. (This is my non-musical equivalent of Les Misérables. I'll never not see it.) One of the best things about this show is that the characters are so distinctive, the audience ought to be able to tell which character is which just by how they carry themselves, before they ever say a single word. And I did, no problems at all. This company is fantastic, and I'm so happy that they were my first introduction to Cincinnati theatre.

Highlights:

The Yip-Yips: During the scene when they're tricking Benedick into thinking Beatrice is in love with him, Don Pedro, Leonato, and Claudio channel the Yip-Yips. This whole scene is absolutely priceless, complete with Benedick roaming through the audience and diving off the stage to avoid being seen by his friends. I'd have bought a ticket just to see that again. (And did, basically. I got closer to the front so I can be in the middle of the action.)

Geoffrey Warren Barnes II (who got his MFA at UT! Woo-hoo for a fellow former Austinite!): Fabulous as the scheming Don John. His facial expressions alone got him as many laughs as the more comedic, less broody characters.

Jeremy Dubin & Miranda McGee (Benedick & Beatrice): I've seen raves for these two all over the local theatre reviews & Facebook pages where I've been poking around for a couple weeks. And every bit of praise is 100% deserved. They're so believable as the witty frenemies-turned-lovers that you get the impression they just keep right on going once the show ends. Can't wait to see them in whatever's next. Also! Benedick's line, "If I do not love her, I am a Jew," is generally omitted from modern productions, for obvious reasons. However, since Mr. Dubin is Jewish, this show kept it in--and right after saying it, he got that "Hey, wait a minute" look on his face before dashing offstage. Brilliant.

Justin McCombs & Maggie Lou Rader (Claudio & Hero): Totally adorable as the sweet and (mostly) innocent couple who's head-over-heels in love. (Probably doesn't hurt that they're also in love off stage. Yes, I read all the bios this time, in case you were wondering where I'm getting all this information.) Claudio is always a dumb-dumb, alas, but Ms. Rader's Hero has more fight in her than most during the wedding scene. Mr. McCombs gets a special mention because he got the scene when Claudio mourns for Hero beautifully, heartbreakingly spot-on. I've rarely seen grief so well acted, so much so that I had to look away at anything else happening on stage. It was too painful to watch.

Sylvester Little Jr. (Don Pedro): Absolutely perfect as the Prince. When he asks Beatrice to marry him and she turns him down, he looked like he might actually start crying--only to recover in a hurry and suggest bringing she and Benedick together. He's such a great character, played by an excellent actor.

I'm just gonna stop there before I get any more carried away. Such a brilliant, brilliant show. So looking forward to seeing it again.

Post title is from Dogberry's line, "Oh, that he were here to write me down an ass!" after Conrade quite correctly shouts at him, "You are an ass!" Which, incidentally, is one of my favourite lines from the show.

Teaser Tuesday #43

Source: Goodreads

The Year of Lear: Shakespeare in 1606, James Shapiro

The perception of Macbeth as a play defined by the supernatural--behind Middleton's early revisions and reinforced by the actors' myth of a curse--has shaped much of the play's modern stage history as well.

In his unrelenting assault on those who dared criticize the government's overreaction he unwittingly gives voice, otherwise lost, to what was being murmured at the time.




Teaser Tuesday is a weekly bookish meme, hosted by MizB of Books And A Beat.

Anyone can play along! Just do the following:
• Grab your current read
• Open to a random page
• Share two (2) “teaser” sentences from somewhere on that page
• BE CAREFUL NOT TO INCLUDE SPOILERS! (Make sure that what you share doesn’t give too much away! You don’t want to ruin the book for others!)
• Share the title & author, too, so that other TT participants can add the book to their TBR Lists if they like your teasers

Come Hear the Music Play

I am so far behind on sharing the shows I've loved the last few months. This is what happens when I spend time on silly things like "getting a job" or "watching Serena and Andy take Wimbledon by storm". So, a quick recap on all of them:

Motown the Musical

One thing I've done right this past year in my theatre-seeing is going to shows without knowing for sure what they're about. This one only kinda falls into that category, since the title is somewhat self-explanatory. The music was incredible (no kidding!), and Allison Semmes as Diana Ross is positively show-stopping. During the bit when she comes into the audience and picks some folks to sing with, she chose an elderly gent who announced, "I love you!"

One other funny moment: the characters were discussing what to call their special label, and someone in the audience helpfully shouted, "Motown!" Such a great show, and my last one in Austin.

My attempted selfie
with the chandelier. 

Phantom of the Opera

This show came to Indianapolis the same week I did, and as is my wont, I rounded up my entire family to go see it on Mother's Day. My father hated it, my mother loved it, my grandma was confused the whole time, and I don't know what everyone else thought. I had high hopes after weeks of stalking following the actors on Twitter, and was not disappointed. In addition to the cast being fantastic on stage, they were also a delight at stage door afterwards. This is my most-signed playbill to date, and totally worth standing in the unseasonable cold for.

My mother's playbill on the left, mine on the right.
Our favourite person at stage door was Quinto Ott-- even
my brother remembered him when I read some of his
tweets aloud at dinner a few days later.

Twelfth Night

A friend of mine is part of Hoosier Shakes, and since I live oh-so-close now, I made the quick drive up north to see Twelfth Night in Marion. First--the actors did the pre-show entertainment and the intermission entertainment. They never stopped going the whole time, and still had enough energy afterwards to chat. What a great group of super-friendly, energetic people.

Also, the entire audience laughed so hard at this that I'm still not sure what happened in this scene. In fact, I'm still kind of amazed I didn't fall off my chair laughing:

Photo blatantly swiped from the Hoosier Shakes
Facebook page. And I really, really hope this isn't
the photo Networked Blogs pulls for my post later.

Cabaret

This was my next-to-last Austin show, and I've saved it until the end here because I had so many feelings about it. First of all, the only thing I've known about this show my entire life was the song "Cabaret," so I've always thought it was a happy show. Oops.

Through most of Act I, I kept thinking, "Maybe this show doesn't have a plot," only for the plot to arrive, quite heavily, right before intermission. According to Wikipedia, 1920s Berlin really was the be-who-you-are party spot depicted in the musical right before the Nazis rose to power. Watching the characters' fear grow in Act II was heart-wrenching and horrifying, as was Fräulein Schneider's telling Cliff that he was free to leave any time, while the Germans were stuck in Germany to live with whatever came next. Timeless message, much?

Needless to say, I didn't walk out of this one uplifted and happy. It weighed on me for days while I tried to process what I'd seen. Months later, I'm still processing.

Things I tweet after I see thought-provoking musicals.
Post title is a line from Cabaret.

What's next? Well, after months of dithering, I'm headed back to NYC to see Les Misérables one more time before it closes. Much like the last time I went to New York, I chose a second show based on one actor who's in it--the actor in question this time is Josh Grisetti, who is joining the cast of Something Rotten next week, just in time for me to see him in it. Yep, I'm pretty excited. Yes, I know I'm incredibly lucky. I wish you could all come with me.

A to Z Challenge: Links to All My Theatre Posts

Y'all, how great were the Tony Awards on Sunday? My favourite of all the awards shows, and now it's a long wait until next year.

Anyway! Below are links to all of my posts to my theatrically themed 2016 A to Z Challenge, in one convenient location. Need to know what I think about Doubt or Fiddler or Wicked? It's all right here. Enjoy! (Plays are noted with a *. Musicals are unmarked.)

Annie
Billy Elliott
*Cyrano de Bergerac
*Doubt
Evita
Fiddler on the Roof
Grease
Hamilton
*The Importance of Being Earnest
Jersey Boys
Kinky Boots
Les Miserables
*Much Ado About Nothing
Next to Normal
*Our Town
Phantom of the Opera
Avenue Q
Rent
Shoulda Been You / Sound of Music
Thoroughly Modern Millie
Urinetown
Victor/Victoria
Wicked
Xanadu
You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown
Zorro

O is for Our

Source: Wikipedia.

Our Town

Originally opened in New Jersey January 22, 1938, moving to Broadway that same year.

Currently: Check with your local high school

Written by: Thornton Wilder

Everybody knows about: The movie has a very different ending than the play.

I have thoughts: As much as I like this show, I'm not sure I could see it live any time soon. The ending is too much. It is, however, Cory Matthews' favourite play.

Have you ever seen Our Town?

M is for Much

Source: Wikipedia

Much Ado About Nothing

Originally opened sometime around 1600.

Currently: If you're very very lucky, it's playing near you. Go see it! (And if you're not that lucky, check out the fantastic 1993 Kenneth Branagh movie or the equally brilliant 2012 Joss Whedon version. Just don't ask me to choose between them.)

Written by: Shakespeare.

Everyone knows about: They're tricked into falling in love. As well they should be.

I have thoughts: This is, without a doubt, far and above all else, my favourite play. I first saw the Branagh version when I was 15, which was the beginning of my lifelong crush on Robert Sean Leonard, even though I'd choose to be Beatrice over Hero any day. Also, Claudio is an idiot, no matter who is playing him.

Have you seen Much Ado? Actually, if you haven't, don't bother answering. Just pick a movie version and watch it. Now.

I is for Importance

Source: Wikipedia

The Importance of Being Earnest

Originally opened in London February 14, 1895.

Currently: in the public domain. Possibly at a theatre near you.

Book: Oscar Wilde

Everybody knows about: “The good ended happily, and the bad unhappily. That is what Fiction means.”

I have thoughts: I only just saw this last summer. I don't know how I went so long without having ever seen it. It's a delight.

Have you seen Earnest? Did you laugh a lot?

D is for Doubt

Doubt

Originally opened Off-Broadway November 23, 2004

Currently: Community and regional theatres, high schools, and classrooms, most likely

Book: John Patrick Shanley

Everybody knows about: Meryl Streep was in the movie, because of course she was.

I have thoughts: I read this in an introductory theatre class in college. Haven't seen it, don't really need to. I like that it inspires thought and discussion.

Have you seen Doubt? Who do you think is right?

C is for Cyrano

Source: Wikipedia

Cyrano de Bergerac

Premiered in 1897 in Paris. The English-language version opened on Broadway in 1923.

Currently: In the U.S., the play is in the public domain. Check a theatre near you.

Book: Edmond Rostand

Everybody knows about: Cyrano had a huge nose.

I have thoughts: I saw a friend in this show a little over a year ago, and there was one moment that I thought was incredibly sad and was getting all misty. Meanwhile, the rest of the audience was laughing, and I still don't know what funny thing was happening then. When I asked my friend about it later, he said there's never any telling how an audience will react to anything. Anyway, for a sad show it's quite delightful.

Have you seen Cyrano?

#AtoZChallenge 2016

I've gone back and forth on doing the A to Z Challenge at least once a day, especially since I'm so far behind on blogging anyway. And because I was having trouble thinking of a theme. But, hello, what has the spare time (and cash) of the last year of my life been about?

So! Beginning tomorrow, I do a theatrically themed A to Z for the month of April (Sundays excluded). Shows I like, shows I don't like, shows I've seen, shows I plan to see, shows I can happily live without seeing. These aren't going to be reviews or value judgement, just basic show facts for my own amusement. And possibly yours, too.

Here we go! Tomorrow.

Free Doughnuts! The Boys Next Door

Feelings. So many feelings. My first theatre visit of 2016 nearly destroyed me.

Source: City Theatre Austin's
Facebook page.

The Boys Next Door is the story of four gents with varying degrees of intellectual disability who live together in a group home, and the social worker who looks after them also with varying degrees of success. It has many moments of absolute hilarity (like when one character shouts "Free doughnuts!" and throws them out the front door one by one), and lots of sweetness.

Now, there's a reason I don't review live theatre for a living: everything I wrote would be a variation on "OMG, so awesome, go see it right away," which all my theatrical friends assure me would be a welcome change from the traditional review, but which I doubt would get me paid for long. However, about The Boys Next Door, it basically boils down to, "OMG! So awesome! Go see it right away and bring a hankie!"

Why bring a hankie? Well, when I told my friend Tony (who plays Barry Klemper) that we were looking forward to seeing the show, he did not say, "Oh, by the way, I have the most emotionally shattering scenes in the show and they're going to leave your heart laying on the floor in pieces, so bring an entire box of tissues," which was a bit of an oversight. Yes, the sad bits of the show will positively rip your heart right out of your body and possibly incite feelings of hatred and violence toward the character causing the emotional devastation.

One of the side effects of fangirling so much over every actor I've ever seen live (and stalking them all on social media) is that I have no trouble separating the actor from the character, sometimes to the detriment of me enjoying the show--it's harder to get lost in to the moment when I can't forget I'm watching people play make-believe.

However, as I sat in a theatre and laughter dissolved into tears as the show went on, I forgot that I was watching a friend. Moment by moment, everything else fell away and the action on the stage was all there was. Which is as theatre should be. Which is why I was a blubbering mess by the curtain call.

And so at the end, I was able to cheer and grin even while my heart was still in pieces. The Boys Next Door, while devastating, is absolute magic.

And, therefore (since it's popular in community theatre, I've heard, and may well be playing near you sometime soon) (that link is to a excellent review of The Boys Next Door, btw, should you care to read it), OMG! So awesome! Go see it right away!

Much Ado About Hamlet

If you're a fan of Benedict Cumberbatch, Shakespeare, or British theatre, you probably know there was National Theatre Live event that was broadcast in cinemas around the world yesterday of the new Hamlet in London, starring the tall guy as the last one to die at the end.

Did I see it? I did not, because despite keeping an eye on the website for months for tickets to go on sale in Austin, I somehow missed the tiny tiny window between the tickets going on sale and then selling out. Grrr. I'm hoping we get to see the encore here. (You know what else I want to see the encore of? Corialanus. I've been watching for tickets for that show for even longer than I did for Hamlet. I'm still waiting and getting progressively more annoyed.)

The stage during intermission.

Fortunately, my favourite Shakespeare of all time is currently playing in Austin, so I made the trip through the wind-y hills of West Austin to Curtain Theatre, which is modeled on London's Globe Theater, to see Much Ado About Nothing.

First of all: the theatre is absolutely amazing. It's about one-third the size of the actual Globe Theatre, and being in it is an experience in itself. I sat on the second floor on stage left, but I doubt that there is a bad seat in the house. The actors do a great job of addressing the audience on all sides.

The company: Holy smokes, do they ever do this show justice. Of special note for me were Beatrice (Lindsay M. Palinsky), Dona Giovanna (Leanna Holmquist), and Dogberry (Andrew Bond), but they were all spectacular and I would happily go pay to see them every night from now until they close. (Fortunately, I have other plans for most of those evenings, or else I'd be out a lot of money.) Austin is so saturated with actors that I mostly feel bad for them that there just aren't enough parts to go around... but I also have a certain glee at how spoiled we are in this city for brilliant theatre.

Managed to catch the company just as they were moving
away after the curtain call. The two nearest me in the
center of the pic are Leanna Holmquist as Dona
Giovanna (usually Don John, the villain) and Levi Gore
as her henchman Borachio.

If you're in Austin, do yourself a favour and go see this. If you're not in Austin, be sad at what you're missing out on.