Gavin Creel, 1976-2024

I had a crush on Gavin Creel from 2009 onward. I saw him in "Hair"--a musical I disliked--and I would listen, again and again, to "Let the Sunshine In." On Broadway, a haircut can be a dramatic event--and the trimming of Creel's character's hair, right before the show's upsetting climax--now makes me think of a similar effect that Victoria Clark used in "Kimberly Akimbo."

Creel grew up studying the recordings of Whitney Houston, and he released a naughty pop album, "Goodtimenation," that I played constantly.

I often dismiss, or half-dismiss, musicals, but "She Loves Me" is a perfect piece of writing, and Creel's performance (alongside Laura Benanti and Jane Krakowski) is charming. Because the production was captured on camera, you never have to wonder what to do if you're alone for a few hours. You always have the option to make a cup of herbal tea and watch Gavin Creel in "She Loves Me." This nation might regain its sanity if people would hear just this one bit of advice.

Stephen Schwartz wrote a lazy, clumsy love duet for "Children of Eden"; he liked it so much, he recycled it for "Wicked." I'm no great fan of "As Long as You're Mine," which steals blatantly from Sondheim's "Being Alive," and also from "A Heart Full of Love" (Les Miz). No matter. Gavin Creel's rendition is a guilty pleasure. I leave it here, for you.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7zXJgDXkUTY

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

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

Susie at Three

In the "Ramona Quimby" books, Ramona copes with existential horror; she is wearing a costume, for Halloween, and she entertains the thought that *no one* in her world might recognize her. If no one sees her as Ramona, then who is she? I tried to play a game with my daughter; I asked, "Are you my cinnamon donut?" To my surprise, Susie was sort of furious. "I am *not* your cinnamon donut. I am Susie." "Are you my berry lollipop?" "I am *not* your berry lollipop. I am Susie." I understand that I myself am impetuous, but it's a new experience to see this same behavior in a tiny human. Susie will not accept any help, when approaching her carseat, but, also, she lacks a plan; she just hurls herself at the seat, then gets distracted. She throws a look over her shoulder, to give me new instructions: "Papa, do NOT help me. Do NOT carry me right now." Except that she has heard the question, "Carry you?" many, many times,

Liars and Saints

Search This Blog