Crazytown

COMMERCIAL BROADWAY

How do you sell live entertainment to a digital obsessed world?
By Rachel James (Treasurer/Writer) 

My roommate and I were watching TV the other night when the following commercial popped up:

 

We both had rather baffled looks on our face when it ended.  I saw this show in London last spring and absolutely loved it.  While I recognized certain scenes from the show, and I could hear “Revolting Children” playing in the background, it definitely did not convey the joy and heartbreak that makes Matilda so special (and a shoo-in for a bajillion Tony Awards).  And as my roommate said: “It looks like Spring Awakening and Wonderland had a baby.”

Totally Fucked

It got me thinking about television commercials for Broadway. As anyone who has ever tried to record a live performance knows, it’s very difficult to capture that “once in a lifetime” experience on screen.  The beauty of live theatre is that you, the audience member, are the camera.  You can point your lens at wherever you want and look at whomever or whatever you want.  

Therefore, I’ve decided to share with you some of my favorite television commercials for Broadway.

HATERS GONNA HATE

In defense of new musical theatre composers.
By Michael Kras (Actor/Playwright/Director)

 

I am a huge supporter and advocate of new musical theatre. It is my firm belief that the future is in more than good hands, as long as said future has the support and back-up it needs. How do I support these new composers? I buy their albums, I pimp their work on my Facebook and Twitter to encourage people to check it all out, and I'm always looking for the latest and greatest. It's a win-win... I get to hear great new music, and I make a small but important contribution to said composers for them to continue doing their thing.

That said, I hate reading reviews on these new works by young up-and-comers. Why? Because, in so many cases, I find them just plain unfair.

So many old, jaded critics out there seem to love preying on fresh meat. They're so set in the golden age of musicals and they seem to approach new works with negative prejudice. Of course, I'm generalizing, but it's something I see enough that I think it's worth discussing. A lot of these critics tend to complain about the same basic things. I'll list a few of them, and then explain why each one is total bullshit.

BIRTHDAY NIGHTMARES

It was my birthday yesterday.  It was a big one.  And here's why I did nothing.
By Rachel James (Treasurer/Writer)

I have to tip my hat to fellow Crazytown citizen, Melissa.  She had a great post on birthdays that just so happened to publish on my birthday.  She had a lot of great tips, and I especially love the idea of doing whatever you want.  But here's the thing: I hate birthdays.

Well, not all birthdays - just mine.  Maybe it started in high school when all my friends hung out on my birthday without me.  Or when I got into a fight with my best friend on my 25th birthday that ended our friendship.  Whatever it is, bad things seem to happen on the day of my birth.  And I usually end the night feeling like Martha Plimpton's character, Monica, at the beginning of 200 Cigarettes.

I will try to not work on my birthday, but then I just feel this overwhelming pressure to be happy.  As if because it is this one day, suddenly glee should be omnipresent.  Because it is a day that's "all about me" I should be doing things I like.  But I'm far too much of a people pleaser to actually relax into the joy.  And I seem to spend the whole day trying to make the happy happen.  In the end, I'm exhausted and I just want to be done with it.

MOVING ON

I chose, and my world was shaken so what? The choice may have been mistaken, the choosing was not. You have to move on...
By Jen Littlefield (Choreographer/Librettist) 

Today is the day! I'm all packed up and ready to leave my cute little one-bedroom in Hell's Kitchen. The movers will be here between 1 and 3pm and my room on the UES is empty and waiting. And so is the next chapter of my life here in NYC. 

I, like many people in this business, measure my life in moves. At 18 I moved to North Hollywood to pursue a dance career. At 20 I moved to Hyde Park to go to the University of Chicago. At 24 I moved to Williamsburg to perform in NYC, but soon rediscovered my love of choreography and teaching. At 30 I moved to Hell's Kitchen just to change it up and to live in Manhattan. And now at 32, I'm moving to the UES to save money, reconnect with my oldest friend, and write.

For the longest time I thought it was the move itself that promoted the change. That it was the new city, the new goals, the new jobs propelling me ahead in life. But like the all-knowing, all-seeing Sondheim tells us, it's the choosing that matters, regardless of the of the outcome. It was never about the where, or even the why, because the end result often looked very different than the original reason. We must make decisions in this life. To stay, to go, to start over, to push through, to find that thing that makes us smile right now, regardless of what made us smile yesterday. And don't get me wrong, it's the MOST scary. But they say (and I believe them whole-heartedly, whomever they are) that the only choices you regret are the ones you never make. 

So lets' choose together. Let's take this (finally) beautiful weather and decide to say yes even and especially if we don't know what will happen. Because if you can know where you're going, you've gone. Live in the journey a little, and let that curve ahead that you can't see around guide you where it will. If you will, I will too. :-)

JEN LITTLEFIELD is a freelance choreographer and writer with a few steady teaching gigs at Pace University and Concordia Conservatory. As she's come to discover, freelance is code for constantly working, so she is also a single gal who is moving to the Upper East Side and plans to meet all the straight men she can. They've been so rare in her life... www.jenlittlefield.com
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BADASS OF THE WEEK: FRANK RICH

People who are awesome in many ways.
By Gregory Jacobs-Roseman (Composer-Lyricist) 

Ladies and gentlemen, this, if you are unaware, is Mr. Frank Rich:

I don’t think I can accurately put into words how awesome I think he is. I can think of no one better to be my inaugural badass of the week. Suffice to say I want to be him. Can I be Frank Rich? Like, just for a second? Can that be possible? Can I at least have his career?

Okay, let’s start at the beginning. We have the same birthday: June 2nd. The very best day of the year to be born. Second, we’re both of Jewish heritage, so there’s that.

But Frank Rich has basically done everything on my bucket list. When he was an undergrad at Harvard he saw Follies before it went to Broadway, wrote about it for the Crimson, and got an invitation to lunch from Stephen Sondheim. Total badass, right? Shortly thereafter, he became the theatre critic for The New York Times – which is not an ambition of mine but still falls under the category of badass. Then he became an op-ed columnist for the Times, which is totally something I could fall back on.

WHY I STILL WATCH GLEE (AND WHY YOU SHOULD TOO)

In defense of a much maligned TV show
By Sam Perwin 

If you haven't dismissed me already from the title of this post, then bear with me here. I swear I have point, and it is this: you should be watching Glee. Not because it is good television (although, sometimes it can be), not because it showcases brilliant singing (ditto), but because it's important. Ditto Smash, but that might have to be saved for another post. First, enjoy this brilliance:

 
This one's for the straight boys...sort of...

Now didn't that make you smile? No? Ok, fine. Here's the deal: I'm a consummate snob, especially when it comes to singing and musical theatre (give me a little credit for writing my first ever post for Crazytown about Passion). I would imagine that most people who read this blog have similar feelings about musical theatre, so I understand that Glee is problematic. It's over-produced, the singing is auto-tuned and studio-fied. The sound is slick, detached from reality and often emotionless, not to mention the low bar of actual singing talent. All of these things are true. I won't even get started on the meandering plots and inconsistent writing. 

THE KEY IS KEY

One composer's advice to singers.
By Gregory Jacobs-Roseman (Composer-Lyricist) 

Last week my good friend and cabaret host extraordinaire Brandon Cutrell asked me to guest judge the Stonewall Sensation competition he hosts downtown at the Stonewall Inn on Wednesday nights. It's an American Idol-esque cabaret competition, where each week contestants perform and patrons vote, and each week the singer with the least votes is eliminated until the finale week, when a winner is declared. It’s a fun event, and one I’ve seen many friends compete in since its very first season.

Poster for the current season of Stonewall Sensation (click to enlarge).

The contestants this season are a crop of extremely talented young singers! As a composer-lyricist on the panel of judges last week, it was a thrill to watch them each interpret their song both musically and lyrically. There was one piece of feedback I directed to all the contestants that night, however, that I think bears repeating here to a larger audience because I think it’s an important one that all too often goes overlooked – and many singers may be surprised to know a composer’s opinion on this issue.

Singers: transpose your music. It’s a must. All too often I see singers whose books are simply direct photocopies from vocal selection books (that they definitely purchased themselves because we totally wouldn’t want to be pirating any published sheet music (I know, I know that’s another discussion altogether)) and that is a big mistake.

Musician humor is so, so lame.

Let’s talk about key and modulation in musical theatre for a second. For some composers, they absolutely want their songs sung in the key in which they were written. Personally, while I don’t think these composers are wrong (to each his own – this post is one composer's opinion on the matter), I do think they’re being a little short-sighted. As I wrote in my post two weeks ago, my first songwriting professor was Jason Robert Brown. As an 18-year-old composer at the time, I wanted to ask him about different singers picking different keys in which to perform the same song. I thought this disrupted the integrity of the work and I was sure Jason would agree with me. Not so. His response: “musical theatre is a performer’s medium.”

ART OUTSIDE THE CITY

A theater girl somehow ends up living in the Midwest-- am I doomed to an art-less existence? (Part 1)
By Lauren Silverman Durban (writer)

 “Don’t sing, Mom!”

It comes in a tiny but insistent voice from the back seat. I ignore it, and wait for the resigned toddler sigh.

My poor kids. At 5, 2, and not even 1 year old, they are well-acquainted with the fact that I DO sing, pretty much all. the. time. Someday they'll understand why.

I finished college exactly ten years ago. If you had shown that girl what my life looks like now, she definitely would have thought you were on drugs. Up to that point I had always lived in LA, and I was positive I’d spend my life doing something in the theater. I have always been obsessed with musicals, and did show after show, wherever I could get cast. It was my drug.

Today? Well, today I live in Lincoln, Nebraska. Let that sit for a second.

My house does not look like this.

But wait—we’re just getting started with the random. At 31 years old, I am “retired” after a seven-year career as a reporter and then an evening news anchor for the local ABC affiliate^[1]. I am married to the Executive Director of a children’s museum, I own a house in a suburb and, in addition to some freelance writing and marketing gigs, am raising the aforementioned three small children. Life’s funny, right? 

But here’s the truly shocking part—my life here is pretty awesome, and it is not without art.

MAKING ‘MERRILY’ ROLL ALONG: HOW TO MAKE THE SHOW WORK

By RSO

Don't hate me, Jennifer Tepper: I’ve never been a fan of Sondheim’s Merrily We Roll Along.

Yes, that show about three artists in New York who go from youthful innocence to tragic interpersonal explosion — and all in reverse, as the show is told backwards.  Famously, the show closed on Broadway faster that you can say its title, and yet has enjoyed several successful regional runs and is beloved by many (most?) of the theatre community

I’ve seen it numerous times over the years, and each time I think I "got" the show a little more.  I wanted to hurt from the top, and leave inspired by the end, and I’ve often left a little disappointed.  But perhaps that isn’t Mr. Sondheim and Mr. Furth’s fault, perhaps that has been simply the challenge of a brilliantly intricate musical.

That’s the conclusion I came to last night when I saw a college production of the show at (full disclosure, my own workplace) Pace University.  Between this production, and the several great productions I've seen in the past years, some things became clear to me about the show. 

So here's some unsolicited advice to would-be directors and performers of the show, based on some things I, as an audience member, learned about the show last night, and for the first time.

1. Take it slow.  It’s a tough show… and take your time to allow the heart of the piece to creep out.  Most of the scenes climax into a frenzy, so slow burn until then.
2. Add movement of the time.  I’ve never seen so much choreography in Merrily  — and it really helps keep the FUN up.  The show, for all its heart-break, is super fun as well.  Dance, dance, dance or die.
3. Make sure Frank and Charlie actually love each other.  It’s vital that when Frank and Charlie say “I love you,” we have to feel they mean it.  Obvious, perhaps, yet because we’ve already seen them explode, it’s a challenge to ensure chemistry (yeah… chemistry) rises between them as the show goes on.  In consideration of the fact that Frank bounces from girl to girl to girl in the show, perhaps his only true love is Charlie.
4. Make sure Beth doesn’t over-sing “Not a Day Goes By.”  I’ve known “Not a Day” since high school, when I was in an unrequited “love.”  Then I heard Bernadette do it, and then 1000 times afterward.  It’s tempting to sing-sing the song, but it’s pointless in the context of the show.  The actress hardly stayed in tempo, reading the song more like a monologue than I have heard it — and it was heartbreaking.  I know it seems obvious (actors: act!), but I think it’s a greater challenge when you’re singing a show’s most important and best-known songs.
5. Mary is in love with Frank.  From end to beginning.  And there are dozens of opportunities for Mary to show us — and they’re subtle.  Often only one small part of a very big line, but they say everything.  
6. Frank is not just an asshole.  Charlie is not just neurotic.  Mary is not just loud.  These are the temptations of many actors young or old, who dip into this perspectives and struggle to escape and struggle to get the audience’s love beyond these base ideas.  I was reminded today of the idea that “everything contains its opposite.”  Frank is a lover, passionate and optimistic that everything will work out; Charlie is grounded and light-hearted; and Mary is terrified, insecure, on the brink of losing everything.  These characters lose our respect (by design) in the first scenes, and it’s a fascinating challenge to watch them gain it back, slowly but surely.

All right Mr. Sondheim, you’ve won my heart again — as though it had ever been lost!  Now I just have to see CSC’s Passion!

RYAN SCOTT OLIVER wrote the music and lyrics for Darling, Mrs. Sharp, 35mm, Jasper in Deadland and more. www.ryanscottoliver.com
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BEHIND THE MADNESS: ROB ROKICKI, VOL. 2

More exciting banter with the other, taller, super-talented half of my musical theater mind.
By Michael Ruby (Writer) 

This week, we’re back with the conclusion of my conversation with my buddy, my pal, my partner in crime, Rob Rokicki. (Read Volume 1 here)

We’ve been writing together for almost six years now. You’ve worked with a bunch of other awesome people, too. What do you look for in a collaborator?
Someone as enthusiastic as you are about the material. If you're both not into it, it's not going to work. I think [I also need] someone who is willing to “kill their babies.” To put story above all else. Nothing can be too precious.

That’s one of the great things with us, I think. We’ll try things, and if they don’t work, we’ll cut ‘em and move on. Or vice versa.
Sure. But sometimes you have to fight for what you think is going to work, too. Like in [our show] Strange Tails, there’s the moment when Patches (the dog) is convincing Kat (the cat) to bite off her master’s toe to save his life. You thought it should be a silly song about actually biting the toe off. I thought it needed to be more real and honest than that.

And it was great, because you wrote “He Feeds Me,” and suddenly I needed to write a scene as good as that. The song was so convincing that I needed to have an argument strong enough to compel Patches to sing that song.
And the monologue in there now is so gut wrenching. 

Having that scene, we even had to write another verse, which we were hesitant about. But it needed a button, a conclusion.
Which produced maybe the best lyric in the song, “Let’s bite off the toe from the hand that feeds us.” If there’s something I’ve written that I’d say I’m most proud of, it would be that scene and song. The lyrics are funny without being cloying or “punny.” It’s silly and breaks my heart every time I see it performed.

    (Lauren Marcus and Jason Williams sing "He Feeds Me" from Strange Tails)