New York Loses an Angel

I saw Rudolf Nureyev dance only once and, alas, it was too late in his career; he was not the athletic god he had been. I was luckier with Misha, Mikhail Baryshnikov. Him I saw a couple times, though, in truth, the best dancing I ever saw him do was on TV or in the movies (White Night; The Turning Point – a film I love).

I was luckier still with Angel Corella, the Spanish dancer who graced the Met stage for the last seventeen years with ABT. He joined American Ballet Theatre as a soloist in April 1995 and was promoted to Principal Dancer in August 1996. I saw him at least eleven times; the first Playbill I’ve found dates to 1996.

Last night Angel leapt his final leaps for ABT as Prince Siegfried in Swan Lake. That would not have been my choice for his swan song, but I was of course there to see it. He was gorgeous and elegant throughout, and wowed us in the third act with his amazing, high-energy technique.

I am not sure I have ever seen a better dancer.

The emotions crescendoed during his curtain call. It lasted twenty minutes; I do not exaggerate. First the twenty-six swans from the corps de ballet took their bows to thunderous applause. Then Vitali Krauchenka and Jared Matthews as the two incarnations of von Rothbart. Finally Angel and his Odette, Paloma Herrera, took their bows -- and pandemonium broke loose.

After several bows together the stage was given over to a procession of ABT principal dancers who entered one at a time, bearing bouquets of flowers. Other ABT dignitaries followed. The entire time the audience was on its feet, applauding madly. Finally the curtain closed, but then parted for a front-of-the-curtain solo bow. More flowers, this time tossed by audience members.

Then another front-of-the-curtain bow for Angel and his Swan.

And another solo bow.

And another.

OK, you get the idea. I have never, ever seen anything like it. Even Barbra Streisand’s bows at Madison Square Garden while the Gay Games were in town in 1994 didn’t go on this long.

My eyes were moist, my breath short. This is one night I will never forget.

Angel in Fancy Free

In Tchaikovsky Pas de deux

The Belting of Broadway, or “the Score will drown you out”

One acts, the other other doesn't

The current production of Jesus Christ Superstar ends its run on Broadway this week. It lasted just a bit more than three months so certainly costs its producers a ton of money. I saw it last night.

To mount a great production of Hamlet, you need an actor capable of coming unglued as the contemplative Dane; a King Lear without a great Lear is just an overlong family drama; Medea without a capable actress – Zoe Caldwell, say – who can make us care about the worst mother of all time – is just a family slasher story.  You see where I’m going with this.

JCS without a believe-in-me Jesus just doesn’t cut it. The current production’s “star,” Paul Nolan, walks through this high-energy show as if he’d already had his run-in with that tree. Although it’s Judas who actually comes back from the dead to sing one more time, it’s Jesus who acts the zombie – and no, not in a fun way. Jesus Christ, Somnambulist might have been a better name for this production.

Which is a shame – and jarring when you contemplate the overall energy level – and decibels – of the show around him. It has a lot going for it: a shiny, metallic rock concert set; those hyper-energized apostles and townspeople cavorting, twirling and tumbling across the stage; and a lovely and affecting performance by Chilina Kennedy as Mary Magdalene.

And it has Josh Young as Judas. Though it’s Jesus’s show, Judas has always been the real star of this early Andrew Lloyd-Webber/Tim Rice vehicle. And how Young does shine. He’s beautiful and talented and has quite a set of lungs.

Those lungs though, along with his director’s direction, are a problem.

I’ve never watched American Idol, or any of the other TV talent shows, but I’ve come to blame them for what I’ve named the “belting of Broadway.” Songs are no longer sung. They’re belted. From the YouTube clips I’ve seen, this is what works on TV, so producers, catering to an audience which most nights of the year are glued to their televisions, have decided this is what works on the great white way.

And they’re right, I’m afraid. It works. The audience last night ate it up. They roared their approval. They jumped to their feet at the final curtain.

But it doesn’t work, does it? Else Jesus Christ Superstar wouldn’t be closing so soon. I have a feeling that a lot of those people who were screaming last night were telling their cubicle mates today that it was good, but not great. “And that Jesus? Jesus, he couldn’t act.”

As the house lights dimmed we heard the usual “shut off your cell phones” message, but this one cleverly went on to say “you can open your hard candies anytime you want; the score will drown you out". 

Truth in advertising, that.

This was one loud group of first century Judeans. I’m a rock and roller, and I love this score, so it was ok by me that it was so loud. But it would have also been ok had it been a bit less loud. (The show’s web site carries this advisory: “Please be aware that the music may be amplified to a degree that some patrons might find uncomfortable.”) A bit lower volume would’ve certainly meant that more people would have understood more of the lyrics.

Finally, there’s the always-present problem with this show. How do you stage the horrible execution of the world’s most famous prisoner at the end of a high-energy, feel-good rock opera? In this version we have the aforementioned back-from-the-grave – with a stop at Polyesters ‘R’ Us – Judas, belting out the title number while Jesus ascends to meet his descending cross. Hit the last note, cue the lights, flood the stage with a million-candle power and – the audience goes crazy. It's a show-stopper, and that's exactly what happens. The show stops, Judas holds his preen and Jesus hangs on his cross. While the audience goes nuts.

It’s weird. Truly weird. I looked at the crowd and thought “surely, some of you are Christians. What exactly are you so rapturously applauding?”

Very strange.

Believe it or not though, I’m glad I went. I love this music. I remember clearly my friend Chuck bringing over the original concept album and the two of us sitting transfixed on the floor. We had never heard anything like it. For all its problems, this short-lived production at least allowed me to close my eyes and remember 1970.

Watching the Tonys

I am so glad I met Ransom when I did; he saved me from making a fool of myself chasing Neil Patrick Harris around the country and the world.

That boy can sing! That boy can dance! That boy could charm a Cadillac away from Mitt Romney. And cute? OMG, he’s so cute. He was nerdy-cute back in the Doogie days; he’s just drop-dead handsome now.

The Tonys' opening number was clever and fun and showcased all the non-cerebral joys of Broadway, though I did want to throw a shoe at the TV when that damned curly red-haired brat ominously walked on stage, making me fear for the 2012-2013 Broadway season.

I’m sorry that Celia Keenan-Bolger didn’t win for Peter and the Starcatcher, but she probably didn’t have a chance up against Judith Light, who gave one of the most gracious, heartfelt and yet short acceptance speeches I’ve ever heard.

I have mixed feelings about Newsies, fearing what Disney usually brings to Broadway, but I’ve been very curious after everything I heard about the dancing. Tonight’s excerpt convinced me; I need to see this show. All those chorus boys, yum.

Either Phillip Boykin or David Alan Grier could have won the Tony for best featured actor in a musical (Porgy and Bess) and I would have been happy. Or Josh Young because he’s such a hottie. Haven’t seen -- and don’t want to see -- Nice Work If You Can Get It so I can’t judge Michael McGrath’s victory.

John Tiffany wins for directing Once; confirms my desire to see it someday. Loved the film. I’m sorry Roger Rees and Alex Timbers didn’t win for the abovementioned Peter, but when Mike Nichols decides to direct the most famous American play in history, what chance do you have?

But then Peter won in the person of Christian Borle for best featured actor. A well-deserved win; his performance is the best I have seen in years. The best actress winner, Judy Kaye, no doubt deserves her win; she’s a great actress, but again, Nice Work just doesn’t lift my skirt.

And now Clybourne Park beat my beloved Peter for best play. I'll judge for myself  at Wednesday’s matinee.

Porgy and Bess wins best revival. In a first for me, I saw this beautifully sung revival this very afternoon. Audra McDonald, who I expect will win her own Tony shortly, was magnificent – as you would expect of a four-time Tony winner. So were her co-stars. The show, however, will never be my favorite and this afternoon’s performance reminded me that P&B is a show I respect more than love.

The beautiful Hugh Jackman just received a special Tony; why the audience sat on their asses I will never know.

Steve Kazee wins best actor for Once. Surprised the hell out of me. Maybe of him too. Another heartfelt and very touching acceptance speech. I had already typed “Philip Seymour Hoffman wins for Salesman” before the next announcement was made that, no, it was James Corden winning for One Man, Two Guvnors. I was once again, totally surprised – though somewhat less than James Earl Jones was. Did you see that look on his face?

About the musical excerpts: the bit from Ghost convinced me this is a show I do NOT want to see. Aren’t previews supposed to do just the opposite? Ditto Evita. I’ve never been into that show before, and I certainly am not now. Did the producers think they were hiring the OTHER Ricky Martin, the one who could act? Seeing the bit from Newsies, as I’ve already said, really makes me want to see it. Harris said they were 35-year-olds acting like 15-year-olds. Sounds good to me. Finally, I always like looking at Raul Esparza but Leap of Faith is a now gone, not missed, dog. A dog I saw a few weeks back.

Audra McDonald – no surprise – wins for Porgy and Bess. A thrill for her, a thrill for me, having just seen this performance six hours ago. Loved her in Ragtime, loved her even more in Carousel.

Once wins Best Musical. Damn, gonna be hard to get tickets for this one.

I end where I began: in love with Neil Patrick Harris.

But more in love with Ransom.