Crazytown

MATTHEW PERRY STOLE MY CHILDHOOD

By Robert Simpson

Remember those formative years of our youth?  They were times of great discovery, confusion, elation and crushing defeats, and also acne in places where acne should not occur.  My teenage years, however, were primarily dominated not by numerous failed attempts to talk to girls or excel in some athletic competition or whatever.  No, my teenage years were overshadowed by one haunting and constant reminder.

I am Chandler Bing.

You remember Chandler Bing, right?  He was that character played by Matthew Perry on Friends, the last of the juggernauts of prime time sitcoms of the 90s and early 2000s.  He was the sarcastic one that always had some lame wisecrack and everyone thought was gay.  Now before you object, I have no problem being compared to people who may or may not be gay.  A lot of people think I look like Rupert Everett.  And I didn’t object to the fact that people thought I was funny.  That’s a good thing, right?  Being funny is a good thing? 

No, it is a horrible, evil, dirty thing, because no one ever told me that I was “funny.”  No one ever heard one of my jokes or witticisms or puns and thought, “What a humorous and interesting person Bob is.  I would like to get to know him on a more personal level and establish a meaningful and long lasting friendship with him.”  No one ever said that, which I guess is ok because if someone did say that to me I would wonder why they had no inner monologue. 

Instead, whenever I made a wisecrack, this is what I heard:

“Oh my GOD that is SOOOOOOOOO Chandler!”

Now multiply that by every sentence I ever said for about ten years, and just to drive the insanity of this point home, you want to know who was the first person to ever say that to me?  DO YOU?!?!  My freaking physics teacher.  That’s right, it wasn’t some hot popular girl that I wanted to make out with or the captain of our football team (1996-1999 Kingwood High School football record: 1-59), it was the teacher of the most boring class I ever took.  I was walking down the hall of KHS, passing the biology and chemistry rooms.  My teacher, who shall remain nameless because she is the devil, was standing in the hallways talking to some other dork science teacher, when I walked toward them both.  I tried to avoid eye contact as to be spotted by this teacher would doom you to a conversation of inertia or yaws or whatever the hell you talk about in physics, but she stepped out into the middle of the hallway to block my path. 

She grabbed me by the arm, looked me in the eye and said, “You know who you remind me of?  Chandler Bing.” 

She stared at me for a moment, released me, and rode off on her broomstick to kill Christians.  I am not making that last part up. 

At that point, the freaking floodgates opened and I could not get away from this constant comparison for the life of me.  It was like some rampant virus, and I hadn’t even seen the show!  I had no idea who this incredible doppelganger was who happened to be making a million bucks an episode by capitalizing on my life. 

Everything I said, everything I did, even the way I looked was directly compared to Matthew Perry at all times.  Here check this out:

                                             

                                  ME                           MATTHEW PERRY

See any resemblance?  No, of course you don’t and you wanna know why?  Cause I grew a freaking beard.  I grew a beard so no one would ever say I look like that bastard again.  Do you know how hard it is to even GROW a beard?!  Not hard. 

Eventually, I started watching the show and in the end, yeah, it turns out everyone was right.  I’m just like him, but you know what?  I never did this: 

Rot in hell, Chanandler Bong.

WEATHERING THE STORM

by Leah Bonnema

This week marks my anniversary of being completely off anti-depressants for an entire year. I had been taking them on and off (mostly on) for the better part of 10 years. A decade ago I marched into a doctor’s office and said: Feelings, I don’t want them anymore. What have you got for me?!

When I took my AntiDs I rarely cried, rarely became so overwhelmed by emotion that I had to run for cover so I could blubber uncontrollably as I wipe my nose on my sleeve. I now find myself often seeking shelter from the storm of my emotions. I think I was quite proud of my misguided stoicism. Sometimes I would however, need to cry, to get it out, and for that I always turned to sports movies, football movies in particular. Football movies have everything, highs, lows, the sprit of the underdog, heart and teamwork. Mostly they have men in tight pants running into each other and who wouldn’t be moved by that?! I would watch Remember the Titans, We are Marshal, even The Replacements when Keanu and the team dance to Gloria Gaynor’s I will Survive and I’d cry like a baby that just had a tit taken away from them. Watching football movies for me, I believe, was the equivalent of a guy rubbing one out before a date so he didn’t randomly explode on his date’s leg. Sometimes you are built up and just got to get it out in the privacy of your own home where you aren’t going to upset anyone or embarrass yourself.

AN ACTOR PREPARES

Ya gotta suffer for your craft.....

 By Diamando Stratakos (actor, producer)

The other morning, as I screamed in anguish whilst rolling around on my little pink balls, I realized that the things I do to improve myself as an actor might look just a bit strange from an outside perspective. Lest anyone thinks I am making a sexual reference, let me clarify that the little pink balls of which I speak are made of rubber and are a required tool in my Body Dynamics class taught by Carol Reynolds through T. Schreiber Studio.

Body Dynamics is my first non scene study acting class since college. I had never really enjoyed them. Recently however, I realized that maybe all the training I had when I was the ripe old age of 18 wasn’t really a direct correlation to my abilities as an actor today. Eleven years have gone by. My body, my mind, and my emotional capacity are just a teensy bit different. With this knowledge and a newly affirmed sense of self, I boldly signed up for a class I would have previously considered to be a bunch of hippie mumbo jumbo and not at all related to the craft of acting.

TAKE YOUR BLOG TO WORK DAY

Brian loses his blogging virginity and gives us a tour of his "office"
By Brian DeCaluwe(Guest Contributor)  

Hello everyone,

This is my first visit to Crazytown.  Let me introduce myself.  My name is Brian.  And I work on Broadway.  Literally.  On the street.  Not in a theatre. Yes, that’s right.  I’m one of those annoying promoters.  When I tell people about my job, they often ask me, “Don’t you get bored?  Just standing there all day answering the same questions?”  The answer: No.  As much as we New Yorkers generally try to avoid this overcrowded, neon, overpriced symbol of American commercialism, I think it’s impossible to be bored in Times Square.  At least, I’m not bored yet.  Let me introduce you to some of the people I work with.

Everyone, this is Sandy Kane.  (Hi Sandy!)  Sandy, say hi to Crazytown.  (Aw, fuck off!)  I’m sure you’re all familiar with The Naked Cowboy.  Who isn’t?  This ugly-hot redneck Adonis has been sharing his assets with visitors to Times Square for years.  But not everyone has met his female counterpart, Sandy Kane.  Sandy hosted a public access show called the “Sandy Kane Blew Show” that ran for over a decade.  She is also a former stripper who was famous for finishing her act by setting her breasts on fire.  You gotta have a gimmick, right?  Unlike The Naked Cowboy (aka Robert Burck),  Sandy doesn’t pose for pictures with a simple smile.  She flicks off the camera, takes off her bra, and performs cunnilingus between her fingers.  Well worth a couple of bucks, don’t you think?  Next time you see her, help her out.  She is being sued…

 

LOST IN THE WOODS

I started thinking last night… had the creators and writers of LOST perhaps gotten inspiration for a few of their characters from Sondheim’s INTO THE WOODS. This may be just coming from a crazy musical theatre chick who wants to relate most things to some Broadway Show…. or….
By Pam Quinn (Guest Contributor)

THE BAKER - (Jack) always trying to do the right thing, constantly haunted by his father, has a “sister” that he’s never met. Has a “leader” complex….

THE MYSTERIOUS MAN - (Christian) Um…. yeah.

THE WITCH -  (Ben) Knows more about the woods and the Giant then most. Not sure if he’s good or evil.  Both sort of running the show.

CINDERELLA’S PRINCE -  (Sawyer)CAn’t seem to decide between two ladies. Kind of a dick, charming, lies a lot…

BAKERS WIFE -  (Kate) Hookin’ up with two men, ends up with a child, when she tries to help it ends up making the situation worse…

CINDERELLA -  (Juliette) Falls for a notorious bad boy, joins forces with the “leader,” both tend to wounds.

RARE AND INSPIRING, LIKE JESUS, BUT MORE SO (PART II)

Continuing from yesterday's post, part the second!
By Jennifer Tepper

Norbert Leo Butz touring as the Emcee in CABARET

The Theatre World Awards in 1978. Jennifer Ehle (future 2000 winner for THE REAL THING), Rosemary Harris (1953 winner for THE CLIMATE OF EDEN), and Andrea McArdle (1978 winner for ANNIE).

William Daniels as John Adams in 1776

Lerner and Loewe in the Mark Hellinger Theatre lobby during intermission of their MY FAIR LADY

Original caption: Manhattan, New York, New York: Happy to be back on Broadway, veteran actress Gloria Swanson clings to pole outside the Booth Theater. She is taking over the starring role in a new production of the Broadway hit, BUTTERFLIES ARE FREE, which went into rehearsal 8/31. She is replacing Rosemary Murphy. 1971.

“A Broadway ticket-dealer”

IN THE HEIGHTS wins the Tony Award for Best Musical. Lin-Manuel Miranda is lifted off his feet and onto the shoulders of Kevin McCollum and Jeffrey Seller.

Audition notes for the original WEST SIDE STORY. Held at the St. James in 1957. Jerry Orbach as Chino? Warren Beatty as Riff?

At a 1987 party, Tommy Tune and Drew Barrymore did a dance to "Fascinating Rhythm". ''Drew's half my size and a quarter my age,'' said Mr. Tune, smiling down on his small partner. ''She just turned 12 and I just turned 48.''

Jean Kerr watches a play from the second- to- last row at the Lyceum as her husband Walter Kerr peeks from behind the curtain. They are at opening night of KING OF HEARTS in 1954, which she co-wrote and he directed. The play features a 27-year-old actress named Cloris Leachman.

Broadway stars, including actors Brooke Shields, Bebe Neuwirth, Bernadette Peters and Susan Lucci got together for the filming of a special public service announcement in the "Let's Go On with the Show" campaign. In an effort to support Broadway and tourism in the wake of the World Trade Center tragedy, Broadway's biggest stars, cast members and supporters joined together, live in Times Square, to record the hit "New York, New York." September 28, 2001.

Actress Julie Andrews, rehearsing for TV show "Broadway of Lerner and Loewe."- December 1961

Check back for more Rare and Inspiring Broadway photos in the New Year!

RARE AND INSPIRING, LIKE JESUS, BUT MORE SO (PART I)

Incomparable young upstart producer Jennifer Tepper (I would have cut a word from her intro but none seemed cuttable) has some Christmas presents for you... And like any good Christmas, you get some tonight and some tomorrow!
By Jennifer Tepper

Hi. Jennifer Ashley Tepper here. So the very wonderful RSO recently asked me if I’d write a guest post for his blog. Hell yeah, I responded! For years, I’ve admired Ryan as an awesome composer/ lyricist, blogger, and human being in general.

As a composer/lyricist, Ryan has written a ton of insanely great shows and songs, including of course, “The Ballad of Sara Berry”, which has caused me to spend hours on youtube, and has also caused me to call my sister during a live performance of the song and hold up the phone whispering “Listen, it’s your favorite! This is amazing!!!”, right at the level of Lindsay Mendez’ shoes. (Sorry, Lindsay.) Additionally, it once caused a very embarrassing moment for me, singing while sitting behind Sarah Uriarte Berry at the Delacorte. (Sorry, Sarah Uriarte Berry.)

As a blogger, Ryan writes honestly and wittily about everything from what it’s like to bring original musical theatre to mainstream TV to How To Lose An Oscar. That second link is one of my fave posts. I had to dig a little in RSO’s blog archives to find it. I think he needs a blog tag for “TALKING TOO LOUDLY IN LOS ANGELES.”

As a human being, Ryan used to call me “Jessica”. Yes, you heard that correctly. When I was in college at NYU, I met Ryan through a mutual friend of ours (also named Ryan). The next time I saw him at a large gathering, he called me “Jessica” in passing, and I didn’t mind so I let it go by. Cut to a year later, and I’m walking to my seat at Show Boat in concert at Carnegie Hall (of course). RSO stands up and waves and says loudly, “Hey Jessica!!!” About 10 nerds we both know stop reading Carolee Carmello’s bio in their program and stare at us, confused. From that day on, he’s called me “Jen” and I’ve told that story. To Ryan’s credit, he was always very friendly to “Jessica”.

In all seriousness, I’m psyched to share some rare and inspiring Broadway photos, which is the thing Ryan invited me to come do in the first place. For years, I kept a file on my desktop of great Broadway photos. Whenever I’d see a picture I loved, whether it was from 1921 or 1991, I’d toss it in the folder. About a year ago, I thought I’d post a bunch of my favorites in a Facebook album. And so began my own personal tradition of sharing Rare And Inspiring Broadway Photo Albums. I’m on Album Eight now, but here are some highlights from the first edition.

Mary Rodgers and Carol Burnett carry a mattress into the Alvin Theatre for ONCE UPON A MATTRESS in 1959. The show played at five Broadway houses during its original run! (The Phoenix, Alvin, Winter Garden, Cort, and St. James)

Judy Kaye as Rizzo and John Travolta as Doody in the original run of GREASE on Broadway at the Royale Theatre

Pregnant women visit Liz Callaway backstage at BABY in 1984

The original DREAMGIRLS on the cover of Ebony Magazine

Marvin Hamlisch rehearses with the original SMILE girls.

The newspaper that published this photo captioned it as "The legendary Bob Fosse with his girlfriend Ann Reinking and his wife Gwen Verdon" #awkward

Public Theater founder Joseph Papp amid construction of the Delacorte Theater in Central Park in 1961

The cast of the 2008 revival of HAIR at curtain call during opening night at the Delacorte

HAIR 40 years earlier, with Diane Keaton as Sheila, and Steve Curry and Barry McGuire as Berger and Claude (1968).

Part II of Jennifer Tepper's post appears tomorrow.

STAY COOL, BOY

As we enter this cold winter season, I figured it's time for a post about being cool.
By Julia Meinwald

Having spent the better part of my adolescence (and, let's be real, an embarrassing number of hours as an evolved grown-up person) desperately trying to achieve coolness, this is a topic of great interest to me. 

Like pornography, coolness is something you know when you see it. (Especially these guys, who have, surely, one of the coolest jobs ever) I had to give up on ascending to any level of coolness at the global level, but I spend a lot of time thinking about what makes something "cool" in the world of musical theatre.


My first thought about "cool" shows on Broadway is rock music.  American Idiot, Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson, Passing Strange, and Spring Awakening, all shows that feel cool to me, use rock instrumentation and arrangements.  Moreover, all four shows have the band onstage with the cast--they're styled like rock stars and it gives the show a bit of a concert vibe.  What is it that's inherently cool about rock music though? Surely all rock can't be cool, regardless of quality.  For me, I think it's that rock can evoke a visceral reaction from an audience.  It feels urgent and immediate.  It's not fussy.

Content also plays a large part in a show's coolness.  Spring Awakening is about, among other things, hot young people having sex.  Passing Strange is about hot young people finding themselves and doing drugs in Europe. Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson is about the history of our forefathers, but its humor and syntax completely capture today's zietgeist. That show also feels cool because it is, well, bloody.  There's something a little dangerous feeling about the romantic leads smearing each other with blood and people dropping dead left and right.  Another part of what makes Bloody Bloody cool is its refusal to take anything seriously (until, arguably, the last 15 minutes of the show, but that's another topic...) Irreverence isn't necessary for coolness though.  Clay McLeod Chapman and Kyle Jarrow's Hostage Songs, one of the coolest shows I know, boasts similar life and death stakes with a straight-faced, grittily realistic aesthetic. 

In a way I think shows like Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson and Spring Awakening have to fight harder to be cool than a show at, say, St. Ann's Warehouse.  Bigger Broadway houses can feel sort of sterile, but the Bloody Bloody team combats that by decking out the Bernard Jacobs theatre with chandeliers and blood-red decorations, immersing you more fully in the world of their show.

Smaller venues of course vary greatly in atmosphere as well.  I love gobbling berries with whipped cream off of white table clothes at the Laurie Beechman, but I've recently become obsessed with having shows in dive bars, too.  There's something about free admission, $3 PBRs, and a slightly sticky floor that just gives the show a chiller feel, almost regardless of the material you are presenting.

Is writing a cool show even desirable? Coolness implies a certain exclusivity--if every single person could be cool, I don't know if the word would still be meaningful.  On one hand, I would assume that cool shows can reach a large demographic of young people, some of whom might be dubious about more traditional musical theatre, but does coolness necessarily alienate other audiences? The kind of cruel humor that can make a show feel surprising or high volume music you can feel vibrating through your feet can earn a show a devoted following while putting others off. Is it possible (or even desirable) to appeal to everyone?

I wanted to leave you with an image that epitomizes coolness for me, but when I google-image-searched "muppet on a monster truck" nothing came up.  Which, I guess, means my in depth study of coolness still has a ways to go.

WAKKA WAKKA WAGNER

Tony Asaro questions whether or not music does have a sense of humor.
By Tony Asaro

I know how to land a joke.  I know how to create comedy from character and situation and how to write that into song form.  I am a funny writer… in musical theatre.

Right now, I’m in an opera-writing workshop, and I’m struggling.  The program is called the Composer/Librettist Development Program, and it’s sponsored by American Lyric Theatre. 

(For those of you who are like me, unfamiliar with opera, think BMI workshop with Mark Adamo instead of Maury Yeston.)  Here’s my problem: in these unfamiliar waters in which I swim, I somehow no longer know how to be funny!

This post is sort of a response to Julia Meinwald’s post on August 31st, “Can Music Be Funny?”  It’s a question I’m asking myself a lot lately, and Julia’s answer and examples don’t necessarily convince me that music has the power on its own to create comedy. 

I lovingly counter that in Julia's examples (note that Julia is a good friend and old classmate of mine), it’s the concept of the song that makes you laugh, not the music itself.  It’s the idea of a piano being able to answer the singer, not the actual notes being played.  It’s the sloppy, drunk band playing a song referring to whiskey.  Misquoting “Some Enchanted Evening” is a clever idea, but again, it’s the irony that he calls it hummable and then incorrectly hums the quote that’s funny.  “Not Getting Married Today” is about as funny as “Flight of the Bumblebee” without the lyrics. 

 

Even in my own example, it’s the fact that I’m employing accompanimental tropes, and the fact that she’s describing them as she sings to them, that creates the humor, not the accompaniment itself.

In the world of opera, music takes the lead.  It is responsible for the story telling, and while libretto is important, it’s really the music that carries the burden.  Therein lies the difficulty: music can’t ever say anything specific, and comedy is all about specificity. 

Music can’t tell you to clean your room, or make a list of what you need at the grocery store.  Music gives us visceral information.  It’s one of the reasons that song is so powerful as a story telling device.  The text gives you specific information, and the music tells you how to feel about it.  It’s manipulative in the best sense.  Throw into the mix the typical breadth of operatic music, the power and tessitura of the operatic voice, and the complete denial of naturalism, and it’s a bitch to hit a punch line.

A lot of discussion happens amongst us writers about the difference between opera and musical theatre.  Many point to taste, style, voice types, conventions, size of venues, amplification, sung-through/not sung through, etc.  You’ve heard the arguments—it’s fairly polarized. 

I think all of these things can be argued, but none of the items on the list above are exclusively one or the other.  I actually think the difference between opera and musical theatre is pretty cut and dry: musical theatre is magic realism.  It is primarily naturalism with heightened moments that break out from the naturalistic conventions.  It uses direct audience address and soliloquy.  It’s a lot like Shakespeare.  In opera, nothing is naturalistic.  Everything is heightened.  And of course, saying everything is heightened means that nothing is.

So, I’m a little lost at sea, scouring my brain for stories that lend themselves to hyper-reality story telling.  And within that, I’m trying to figure out how to be funny.  I think a lot of what passes for humor in contemporary opera is the incongruity of colloquial (and even vulgar) text being sung by the classical voice.  Hearing a soprano sing profanity like it's art song will get a laugh, but they’re not laughs generated by character and situation. 

I am not interested in mugging, or winking at my audience, nor in using opera to make fun of itself.  I wish to create comedy out of connecting to my audience through relatable characters who reveal unexpected truths

I am not without hope.  I look at Candide and see that there are lessons to be learned.  And my friend and collaborator Kevin Cummines once wrote an amazing symphony that featured a trombone solo in the third movement that actually made me laugh out loud.  I think about leitmotif and see potential for comedy there.

Lastly, in Stravinsky’s The Rake’s Progress librettist and composer work together to beautifully characterize the babbling and then furious bearded lady, Baba the Turk.

In writing this blog post, I see that my problem landing jokes is a result of my inappropriate approach: my desire to land jokes.  Perhaps that’s a convention that lends itself more to magic realism musical theatre than to heightened opera. 

Perhaps trying to create comedy in opera with my musical theatre techniques is a little like a visual artist trying to create a sculpture with oil paints.  I’m butting my head up against the wall because I’m using the wrong materials. 

Looks like I need to go back to the wordsmith store and pick up some new tools.

JULIA MEINWALD HAS SOMETHING TO SHARE WITH YOU

By Julia Meinwald

Gordon Leary and I are one of two sets of "phenomenal new musical theater" in antTunes, part of this year's ANTfest at Ars Nova. Most of the songs are from our new musical inspired by the Gloucester, MA pregnancy pact. If nothing else, we can promise you bedazzles and belting.  And what could be better on a Monday night?

(if you have to) CLOSE YOUR EYES
8pm, Monday October 25th
Ars Nova, 511 West 54th Street
Get your $10 tickets here.

Presented as part of Ars Nova's ANT Fest

Music by Julia Meinwald
Lyrics by Gordon Leary
Directed by Jeremy Gold Kronenberg

Featuring:
Ally Bonino
Ellen Condon
Kimiko Glenn
Amy Linden
Angie Perez
Phoebe Strole

Design by Matt Brogan
Music Direction by Justin Hatchimonji
Drums: Jeremy Yaddaw
Bass: Eric Day
Guitar: Kevin Wunderlich