Thursday, July 30, 2009

Ain't Got No Patience

Lots to talk about today. First off: 9 to 5 goes down the tubes on September 6. Disappointing, but not altogether unexpected. I've heard the whole score, and the only song I really care for is One of the Boys. Somewhere, somebody is pointing a finger at Dolly Parton and saying, "I told you so." I would also like to take this time to send my very own "I told you so" to anyone who said it didn't matter than they didn't win any Tonys. Anyway. Sorry, ladies. With a score like yours you were doomed from day one. Well, no. I shouldn't say that. I gotta say, I never thought this one would crash and burn. If I had anybody pegged to go down in a blaze of glory, it was Next to Normal. Just goes to show ya, Blanche. Ya never know what's comin'.

Maybe I should mention that I'm really warming up to Sunday in the Park With George. It's rough, though. Definitely wouldn't recommend it for your first Sondheim. My first Sondheim was Sweeney, and I think I turned out okay. The folks who call Sunday in the the Park an acquired taste are absolutely right. It takes a lot of doing to start to appreciate it. Keep at it, though. It's worth it. Come on. It may be a little sluggish, dry as all heaven and hell, and it takes a while to be able to tell the songs apart, but it's still Sondheim. And I am just an absolute fountain of love and appreciation for that man and his shows. Except The Frogs. No love for The Frogs, at least not from this corner. The realization that I don't hate SITPWG led to an epiphany: I don't like Bernadette Peters all that much. And I happen to think that Sondheim/Prince is infinitely better than Sondheim/Lapine. I guess you could say I like the old school Sondheim - Sweeney, Company, Follies, etc. Into the Woods, Sunday, and the ever-tricky Road Show, not so much.
Caroline, or Change - the show that Wicked smothered, and the newest addition to my list of favorites. Look, children! A serious show! Oh, the humanity! Imagine. A serious show. Let's get this straight. There is a difference between "serious" and "depressing." Because I don't go for the fluff does not automatically make me a killjoy, and I don't appreciate that label, thanks. But back to Caroline. It's wonderful. Lot's Wife and I Hate the Bus are beautiful songs. And Tonya Pinkins was robbed by Idina Menzel. Caroline's about racism in the south. It's kinda hardcore Hairspray, but ten million times better. Do I really have to tell you that this one flopped? Unfortunately, it went the way of Grey Gardens, Ragtime, Dessa Rose, and that whole group. Maybe those shows should have their own genre: Lovely History-Based Musicals That Were Steamrolled by Tourists Who Are Afraid of Their Emotions. There's a line in I Hate the Bus that goes something like this: "And Iiiiiiiiiiii ain't waiting no mooooooore."
Bam. Perfect segue into today's next topic. I ain't waiting no more. I'm just not. Big announcement tomorrow that will mean the world to me and absolutely nothing to any of you. Except that if it doesn't go according to plan a few of you might hate me. But that's ok. Jeez, how many of you are actually there? Not that many. Don't think I don't know it. I know there's Lenora and Berri, sometimes Maisie, who doesn't know what I'm talking about anyway, and the odd straggler from Broadwayworld. So can at least one of you please comment me? Just so I don't feel like I'm talking to the walls? You understand. Thanks.

Last issue: Through a strange twist of events, I came into contact with a gallstone the size of a golf ball this afternoon. I understand that if you don't know the back story I'm coming off as completely bonkers, but perhaps you folks are better off not knowing that part. And guess what. It was the most repulsive thing I had ever seen in my life. I want my eyeballs sucked out and my brain dosed with acid now. I'm not even kidding. Following my usual vindictive outlook, my original plan was to share a picture with you fine people, but upon looking up "gallstones" on Google images, I decided I actually don't hate you guys all that much. Look the little bastards up if you dare. But don't say I made you do it.

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