Broadway for Biden

My husband and I attended "Broadway for Biden." A few thoughts:

*I'm really "done" with the original cast of Hamilton. Renee Elise Goldsberry appears, and she doesn't even sing a song; she just shouts some lefty bromides and makes "earnest eyes" for the crowd. Then Leslie Odom walks out--wearing silk pajamas? or a stylized karate suit?--and sings "Dear Theodosia." This is not a song anyone would ardently wish for. "The original Aaron Burr! Let's forget his solos. I'm really hoping for Dear Theodosia." People paid a great deal of money to be in this room.

*LaChanze is superhuman. She looks and sounds like she is twenty-five years old. She is like a walking Encyclopedia of the History of Broadway. She doesn't need to say anything; just from seeing her, I feel goosebumps. Can we find a spot for her in the "Titanic" revival? Why wasn't she Dolly Levi--four or five years ago?

*I have always been wrong about Sara Bareilles. She comes out and steals the show. She picks a terrific song--"Over the Rainbow"--and she makes a quick, sharp joke. ("I wrote this next one....earlier this afternoon....") Bareilles seems to address the entire country, in a subtle and surprising way:

Someday, I'll wish upon a star--

And wake up where the clouds are far behind me.

Where troubles melt like lemon drops--

Oh, way above the chimney tops:

That's where you'll find me.

Somewhere over the rainbow....

Sara Bareilles, MVP.

A solid B or B-plus for this concert.

Comments

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

Search This Blog