Saturday, July 31, 2010

Stage, Stars, and Murder!

This is gonna be a (b)ramble I can just tell! So much going on! Caught PROMISES, PROMISES on Broadway just the other night and this is not a show I was planning to see. I was planning to boycott old Sean Hayes! Because you know, during all those Will & Grace years when all other cast members were doing AIDS benefits and charities and things he never appeared because he wasn't out (well hit me over the head with a hammer and call me tweety!) and therefore, Sean Hayes didn't do all that he could have done to help others because he was so busy hiding himself. Then this year, did you read his coming out interview in the Advocate? He came off haughty and over it and above all: ungrateful.

So I wasn't going to support him but Anita got free tickets, so I gratefully accepted!  Sean Hayes bore the brunt of a really brutish recent article in Newsweek about how gays can't play straight on film or on stage, so I went in seeing if he could pull it off and by golly he did! Also in the show was another gay playing straight, who also pulled it off: Brooks Ashmanskus. Fun bit of trivia: Brooks was the big musical theatre star at my high school in the 1980's and now he's a big man on Broadway. All the way from Beaverton! We had the same theatre guru, Mr. Erickson, who put on lavish productions with the help of indentured servant students, and mother helpers from all over Oregonian suburbia.  I played the Tinman in the Wizard of Oz and wore a costume including hubcaps and streetlights.  I was cast as the character without a heart.  Infer what you will...

Promises, Promises I thought was one of those storybook musicals they're so fond of these days. Where you take Frank Sinatra's hits, or Billy Joel's hits, or ABBA's hits and you just shove them, cram them really, into a flimsy story. This time with BURT BACHARACH's song book. I was wrong! This show first appeared back in the 60's. Still, it feels like they're cramming hit songs where they don't belong. When Kristin Chenowith busts into "Say A Little Prayer For You", it doesn't make sense why she'd be saying a prayer for the married man she's screwing? Anyway.

Sean Hayes was likeable on stage even though his voice sounds a bit like Belinda Carlisle or Madonna doing Belinda Carlisle in her Truth or Dare doco (enough vibrato already) and what's truly funny for me is that his character at one point gets called UNGRATEFUL.  But he's fun, the music's great, the story is based on Billy Wilder's classic film The Apartment, and Katie Finneran deserves the Tony she won for the sensational role of his drunken pick-up.  "Do you like my coat? It's OWL." She had the audience howling in the aisles and she gets to do that EVERY NIGHT! 

At intermission, I walked out to see this cute guy who I know, but I couldn't figure out where I know him from so I was just going to hug him and kiss him on the cheek like I usually do to people I don't know where I know them from.  Two seconds away from planting a kiss, I realize I do know him but he doesn't know me.  He's sexy film actor James Marsden. Corny Collins from Hairspray!  He was shorter than I imagined, and way too (we're talking Snooki hue here) but still I should've planted that kiss.  Do you ever do that?  See famous people and think they're your friend?

New York is bursting at the seams this summer!  See that show, and the King Tut exhibit in Times Square.  You get to see a replica of that charred child King with skinny toes and buck teeth.  He looks like a pile of briquets.  His after-life collection is to be envied, of course, but not sure all that truck is worth knowing your brains were yanked out your nostril with a metal hook.  Oh, and his liver had this shimmering little sarcophagus curated with the words "Coffinette for the viscera of Tut".  My liver wants a coffinette!

While we're at it, the Met's exhibit "American Woman" which shows the American woman's fashion aesthetic from 1890 to mid-century.  The Gibson Girl, the Bohemian, the Flapper.  Oh the flapper, who needs a waistline?  Even better than the fabulous garments were the shellacked, stacked, glittering, galactic creations that were the wigs. I kept thinking some queen had a field day the way he went to town on these wigs!  I looked him up just in case he googles his name, Julien d'Ys will find out that someone thought his wigs were the best part of the exhibit!

I made the mistake of googling myself (don't do it) and discovered another Jesse Archer was just murdered.   He was a 26 year old drummer who had his own band in Ottawa.  My sincere condolences.

1 comment:

The Blackout Blog said...

Do you ever do that? See famous people and think they're your friend?

That only happens to me with go-goes. I'm all, "Why is she actin' all stank; I just waved at her!" Because she's not working, D. Kareem.