Liars and Saints

 Adam Feldman was correct in his first assessment of "Ragtime," the one he formed when he saw the Audra McDonald version: this is a regrettable, sentimentalized Cliffs Notes retelling of E.L. Doctorow's story. Feldman was right to focus on "Make Them Hear You," which seems to turn Coalhouse into an aspirational figure, when (in fact) Coalhouse is another version of Sweeney Todd. (Feldman says he has revised his opinion of the show; if he is being truthful, then he ought to think more carefully.) When I saw "Ragtime" in Toronto, I had a "young Adam Feldman" reaction. Except that I noticed the hurricane that was Audra McDonald. By this point in her career, Audra had already won two Tony Awards. (She was about to win her third.) She had worked with her hero, Zoe Caldwell, for whom she named her first child. Caldwell had a "no bullshit" style; Audra has confessed that Caldwell would chastise her whenever she was hitting false notes. I t...

 No one planned on "Rose's Turn"; the end of "Gypsy" was going to be a kind of ballet. But the creators ran out of time. So Sondheim said, "Why don't I piece together a soliloquy? I'll use little musical scraps that have made their appearance earlier in the evening. Saves time." "Rose's Turn" then became a kind of template for Sondheim's career. There would be an extraordinary musical--full of canonical numbers--and somehow, in the last five or ten minutes, there would be a solo that managed to outshine the previous two hours of material. The solo would feature a speaker at war with herself or with himself: Rose, Bobby in "Being Alive," Sally in "Losing My Mind," Desiree in "Send in the Clowns."  Rose is not a reliable narrator. When she says, "I dreamed my dream for you, June," we aren't meant to take this as the gospel truth. When she claims, "This time, boys, I'm taking t...

  I'm always drawn to crime stories; a crime demands a "double life," and we're all (to varying degrees) playacting, involved in double lives. A crime is just a heightened variation on everyday tension and suspense. One recent, sterling example of crime plotting was "Kimberly Akimbo." This show introduces the mesmerizing character of Aunt Debra, who poses as a friend to children while silently devising a scheme for theft. Debra works hard to conceal the fact that she doesn't really care about the kids whose services she has enlisted--but the truth seeps out. At the same time, we're given little hints about Debra's past, clues that start to suggest a reason for the desperation that we're witnessing in the present tense. When the actual backstory emerges, crawls into the light, you can hear a pin drop. It's such a surprising scene. The "criminal" in "Gypsy" is a young woman named June. She has a facade: cooperative, enth...

  I'm in a silent fight with Audra McDonald. She always tells this story in interviews. "I was a hyperactive child, very averse to school. I was failing. And my parents were educators. I'm certainly not judging anyone, not judging any choices, but MY parents said,  We are NOT trying Ritalin. Audra will cope through THEATER CLASSES . And the rest is history." I find this story irritating--because *of course* Audra McDonald is being judgmental. Of course the subtext is: Ritalin is a weaker choice. And I want to remind Audra that she attempted suicide at Juilliard. So: Did theater class really accomplish everything she was hoping for? My own diagnosis is "adjustment disorder," and Lexapro has been a welcome aide. ("I'm not judging anyone who chooses Lexapro, but....") I can tell you about "adjustment disorder." It's basically this. If you were in public, and you saw someone acting in a thoughtless way, you might raise your eyebrows. ...

  It's difficult to get everything right--in a Broadway musical. I didn't think Josh Groban was equipped to handle "Sweeney Todd," but the production itself was ravishing. The lighting was as beautiful as Sondheim's words. And the orchestra was overwhelming. Now, with "Gypsy," we have a star (Audra McDonald) who really can deliver, in each and every moment. But the visual packaging is bland; the director's work seems a little less than "urgent." When Kail did "Sweeney," no one had done a full-scale, lush Broadway version of the show in several decades. But with "Gypsy," everyone has a fairly clear memory of the LuPone/Laurents production. This new one doesn't always feel like a revelation. What is "Gypsy"? Rose Hovick is in a shitty situation. Her mother has abandoned her; her father is depressed and verbally abusive. Rose has cycled through three disastrous marriages; she is growing bored at home, in Seatt...

 I have a special fondness for "I Am" songs -- where a character simply indicates one or two facts about her mental state. Among my favorites is "Will He Like Me," from "She Loves Me." You can feel the anxiety in the air. Another favorite is "My Man's Gone Now," from "Porgy and Bess." Here the message is this: "I'm miserable." But Audra never says, "I'm miserable." Instead, she tells a story. Once, she enjoyed the company of "my man." But now he is absent; he has been replaced. In his stead is "Old Man Sorrow," who whispers beside Audra, "when I say my prayers." This astounding aria reproduces Audra's anguish. We know exactly what Sorrow is whispering. "You lost your man." We know how relentless the whispering is, because Audra ends with repetition: Old Man Sorrow--telling me I'm old now-- Since I lose my man. Since I lose my man. Since I lose my man. The me...

  Oscar Hammerstein was capable of perfect lines; people keep returning to a song from "State Fair," even if people have sort of forgotten the movie. I'm as restless as a willow in a windstorm. I'm as jumpy as a puppet on a string. I'd say that I have spring fever-- But I know it isn't spring. What makes this special is that the melody actually "jumps"; like a puppet on a string, the melodic line is jerked in one direction, then in another. Having described her own restlessness, the speaker can get to the heart of the matter. In the bridge, the song reveals itself to be an "I Want" declaration: I keep wishing I were somewhere else-- Walking down a strange new street-- Hearing words that I have never heard-- From a boy I've yet to meet. This is the "forefather" of "Something's Coming," from "West Side Story"; the speaker has a half-defined wish for adventure. The song builds to a climax: three detailed, ...

 Sondheim wrote a top contender for "Definitive 11:00 Number," and he did it early in his career. The number is "Rose's Turn," from "Gypsy." Within the span of five or six minutes, Rose suggests that she has all the answers, then admits she has no answers, then "rallies" in a weird, terrifying way. The moment Rose's facade cracks is thrilling: Mama's movin' on. Mama's all alone. Mama doesn't care. Mama's lettin' loose. Mama's got the stuff. Mama's lettin' go. Mama? Exhausted by her own Trumpian boasting, Rose forgets her lines. She becomes a frightened child, asking for her own "mama." (We can assume Rose's childhood was unpleasant, because we hear from Rose's nasty father at a pivotal moment early in the show.) Sondheim most obviously quotes himself in "Follies," when Ben Stone takes on 11:00 responsibilities. Some climbers get their kicks From social politics... Me, I like ...

  People are complaining that "Gypsy" gets revived too much--but I want to dismiss this claim. A big, brassy score and an original idea: These things are not encountered on Broadway very often. A jukebox musical may have been a guilty pleasure in the era of "Jersey Boys," but now the idea is so over-harvested, it makes me sad. The same for the movie-to-stage trend: "Death Becomes Her," "Pretty Woman," "Big Fish." These are stories that are not great on the screen, in their original forms. Why re-fry them and serve them up as musicals? The "Gypsy" team said, "There's this quirky memoir by a stripper, and it might have legs as a musical comedy." No one else had ever tried this. Additionally, the "Gypsy" framers wrote about power, in an odd, enduring way: Every mother/daughter relationship is about power, but the additional factor of professional stripping makes "Gypsy" sensational. We don't ...

 Broadway has "I Want" and "I Am" songs, and the "I Am" gold-standard specimen comes from "She Loves Me." Will he like me when we meet? Will the shy and quiet girl he's going to see Be the girl that he's imagined me to be? Will he like me? Here, the speaker is saying one thing: "I am anxious." But she doesn't actually say that. The insistent question marks do all of the work. Will he like me? Who can say? How I wish that we could meet another day. It's insanity for me to carry on this way... I'll try not to. Will he like me? He's just got to. There is a "ping-pong ball" effect: We move from questions, to fantasy, to cool common sense, back to all-engulfing doubt. It doesn't really matter what the speaker is saying. What matters is that she can't stay with one thought for more than a second. Despite the speaker's momentary burst of confidence--"he will like me, he's just got to"...

  Dear Audra McDonald, It's your birthday week. Happy Birthday. Thank you for all you have given the world. Early in your career, you were identified as the next Barbra Streisand. (You met Barbra in person, and she was rude to you. Your friend Zoe Caldwell told you not to be a quivering puddle of jelly. "Remember your dignity--around Barbra." This advice really molded you, and you still talk about it in public.) Unlike Barbra, you did not quickly turn your back on Broadway. You used your gift to bring attention to new composers (who were mostly unworthy of you). Jason Robert Brown, Adam Guettel, Michael John LaChiusa--each owes you major thanks. You brought "Marie Christine" to Broadway; also, you did "110 in the Shade" and "Ragtime," and quirky, small versions of "Dreamgirls" and "Passion." These were important shows for me. In recent years, TV has made certain demands, and you have spent valuable months on low-value proj...

 Audra McDonald's time is precious, and I'm sad she is spending so much of it on the increasingly smug show "The Good Fight." I've lost some interest in the show because the characters don't really grab me; the writers seem to want to be wry about current events, and then they want to congratulate themselves for their wryness. One particular issue I have with "The Good Fight" is that it's giving a sizable part of its last season to two completely new characters -- and neither character is totally compelling. The Kings made this same error with "The Good Wife," and it's surprising they are repeating history. By contrast, I'm impressed with "Better Call Saul," which has one stable of characters; the relationships get weirder and more tortured, and the last season is (finally) a powder keg. All that said, I liked Audra's story in Thursday's "Good Fight." Audra's Liz Reddick ("Reddick" sound...

 I'm not sure a toddler haircut is ever easy, but the pandemic adds a special twist. How strange life is. I was on the phone with my grandmother, who was telling me about her first job. She had worked for a Buffalo mobster who owned a cab company. "He was kind, he often bought me lunch, and I worked there for years." As Grams and I pondered this--the cheery employer who was also maybe a murderer--I found my son was getting summoned to our back porch. Our visiting barber, a friendly, steely lady from Croatia, began her work. It was raining, so Josh, Marc, Mila, and I all tried to crowd under a semi-functional "sun umbrella," which soon became fully *dys* functional. It flapped around uselessly, as Josh screamed and kicked his little feet.  My response to a tantrum is to dissociate, and you can tell I'm doing this when I begin singing Audra McDonald tunes. These tunes will ostensibly "calm" Joshua--but he tends not to notice, or tends just to get lou...

 Obviously, it's important for Joshua to have early exposure to a "queer studies" curriculum. This can take many forms, and in my hands, it's a Survey of the History of the Suffering Diva. Josh wasn't thrilled when I made him watch "Sudden Fear," starring Joan Crawford. In this one, an aging Crawford marries a much younger man, and she thinks it's love, love, love, but really the man wants to kill her. Crawford is ferocious, and she earned a third Oscar nomination for her work--and watching made me recall that Josh still hasn't seen "Mildred Pierce" or "Baby Jane." Josh sat quietly for around three minutes, then he threw himself from my lap and tried to eat a power cord.   Great acting isn't just a product of the black-and-white era; today, we have Olivia Colman. I haven't shown Josh a Colman masterwork--Suffering Diva Fireworks, aka "The Favourite"--but I have introduced Josh to "Broadchurch." In t...

We were once on a plane to Arizona. My husband was going to watch the Kansas City Royals in spring training; I was going to sit by the hotel pool with an Anita Brookner novel. Audra McDonald was on our plane. I knew this; I'm not sure anyone else knew this. In my memory, she is just in an up-front row; it's not first-class. My husband recalls things in a different way. In any case, if you've heard Audra's on-stage banter, you know she is often in the role of a beleaguered mom. "My daughter doesn't like my singing!" "My daughter said I was weak in The Sound of Music !" I find the act slightly grating, and I did note, while on the plane, that Daughter and Mom seemed to be co-existing in peace. After we landed, my husband said, "We need to say something." Marc has many verbal and political skills I myself lack, and so I opted out. I stood in the lounging area like a wallflower. Audra waited for her child's nanny, by the re...

One of my all time favorite story songs is: "I Had Myself a True Love," by Johnny Mercer. Mercer ranks among the great American songwriters. In "I Had Myself a True Love," the speaker, who has lost her man to a gal in "that damn old saloon," tells us a bit about coping with despair. https://www.google.com/search?q=audra+mcdonald+i+had+myself&oq=audra+mcdonald+i+had+myself&aqs=chrome..69i57j69i60.2947j0j9&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8 The speaker informs us, casually, that this guy was a looker, "something to see." The speaker spends her days plotting ways in which she might get this guy back. Meanwhile, cruel tongues wag; everyone in town indulges in spiteful gossip about the speaker's sorrow; "the Lord knows I done heard those backyard whispers goin' round the neighborhood." The song--which started with a reference to "the first thing in the morning"--builds to a climactic dinner scenario. "In th...