Broadway Bulletin

A musical I hate:

"The Sound of Music." Whoa, whoa, whoa. Let's back up. "Hate" is such a strong word! But I'm hoping to provoke--here.

"A lark who is learning to pray"--? WTF? And there's really very little character development among the nuns. And the songs Richard Rodgers added to the movie version--"Something Good" and "I Have Confidence"--are one big lumpy, watery mess.

I also feel like the deck is stacked unfairly and tediously against the Baroness. You make someone a Nazi sympathizer, and you more or less hand your audience an engraved tablet saying: "SIDE WITH MARIA! SIDE WITH MARIA!" How much more interesting--and more daring--the show would be, if Rodgers and Hammerstein had given the Captain an *actual* struggle in the Second Act.

A musical that is overrated:

"The Last Five Years." Yes, I would listen on repeat, but I would listen for Norbert Leo Butz's performance, and not for the writing. People in the theater world are so reverent about this show. And that's bizarre. The Times was right the first time. The character of Cathy is a big snooze, and it's never adequate, if you're a writer, to say, "That's how things were in actual life." A great deal in actual life is a snooze. Your job, as a writer, is to highlight what is interesting.

A musical that is underrated:

"Carousel." This show took a blow a few years ago, because various viewers felt that the heroine was not adequately in line with MeToo sentiments (as if all characters must be morally admirable, all the time).

Let me just remind you how gutsy and weird the story is. The "hero" is hot-headed and impossible, and he dies way, way before the climax. The apparently light and airy subplot--involving Carrie--is actually a bit disconcerting. Nearly every character is at least occasionally foolish, deluded, and weak. This is a side of R and H that people forget about.

And then there is the despair and bravado in "Soliloquy," when childish Billy imagines the life of his own child: "No flat-bottomed, flabby-faced, pot-bellied, baggy-eyed bully will boss him around!" It's a far cry from here to "The Sound of Music."

A musical I love:

"Violet." I don't think it works consistently--really, which musical does?--but Joshua Henry, singing, "My mama told me, Son, forget what might have been...." --? Always welcome. And, for Pete's sake, let's get Sutton Foster back on the Broadway stage.

A musical I cherish:

The film version of "The Little Mermaid." I didn't see the Broadway version, which sounded like a disaster. But let's be clear that Ashman was writing Broadway musicals in disguise, even when he was writing for the silver screen. Ariel dreaming of a life on land: A lifeline for gay midwestern boys, dreaming of New York City, now and forever.

A musical I could listen to on repeat:

"In the Heights." Ah! Mandy Gonzalez!

Guilty pleasure:

"Chess" ....really just the parts where the main lady shrieks center-stage. I'm very fond of Julia Murney hitting that strange, scary high note toward the end of "Nobody's Side." I also like Sutton Foster--simpering about a man, yes, but simpering so beautifully.

How to Host a Baby

-You have assumed responsibility for a mewling, puking ball of life, a yellow-lab pup. He will spit his half-digested kibble all over your shoes, all over your hard-cover edition of Jennifer Haigh's novel Faith . He will eat your tables, your chairs, your "I {Heart] Montessori" magnet, placed too low on the fridge. When you try to watch Bette Davis in Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte , on your TV, your dog will bark through the murder-prologue, for no apparent reason. He will whimper through Lena Dunham's Girls , such that you have to rewind several times to catch every nuance of Andrew Rannells's ad-libbing--and, still, you'll have a nagging suspicion you've missed something. Your dog will poop on the kitchen floor, in the hallway, between the tiny bars of his crate. He'll announce his wakefulness at 5 AM, 2 AM, or while you and another human are mid-coitus. All this, and you get outside, and it's: "Don't let him pee on my tulips!" When...

Joshie

When I was growing up, a class birthday involved Hostess cupcakes. Often, the cupcakes would come in a shoebox, so you could taste a leathery residue (during the party). Times change. You can't bring a treat into a public school, in 2024, because heaven knows what kind of allergies might lurk, in unseen corners, in the classroom. But Joshua's teacher will allow: a dance party, a pajama day, or a guest reader. I chose to bring a story for Joshua's birthday (observed), but I didn't think through the role that anxiety might play in this interaction. We talk, in this house, quite a bit about anxiety; one game-changer, for J, has been a daily list of activities, so that he knows exactly what to expect. He gets a look of profound satisfaction when he sees the agenda; it doesn't really matter what the specific events happen to be. It's just about knowing, "I can anticipate X, Y, and Z." Joshua struggled with his celebration. He wore his nervousness on his f...

Josh at Five

Joshie's project is "flexibility"; the goal is to see that a plan is just an idea, not a gospel, not a guarantee. This is difficult. Yesterday, we went to a restaurant--billed as "open," with unlocked doors--and the owner informed us of an "error in advertising." But Joshie couldn't accept the word "closed." He threw himself on the floor, then climbed on the furniture. I felt for the owner, until he nervously made a reference to "the glass windows." He imagined that my child might toss himself through a sealed window, like Mary Katherine Gallagher, or like Bruce Willis, in "Die Hard." Then--thank the Lord!--I was able to laugh. The thing that really has therapeutic value for Joshie is: a firetruck. If we are out in public, and he spots a parked truck, he wants to climb on each surface. He breathlessly alludes to the wheels, the door, the windows. If an actual fire station ("fire ocean," in Joshie's parla...

Liars and Saints

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