“I just want to be entertained.  I mean, isn’t that the point?”

The Red Mountain Theatre Company (and Philip Mann and Louise Beard) did a terrific job with The Drowsy Chaperone.  Loads of talent, funny, and highly entertaining.

“All the characters are two-dimensional and the plot is well-worn.”

Well, maybe.  Yes.  But that’s okay, because it’s fun.  The exceptional cast shows off lots of special skills like roller skating, ventriloquism, tap dancing, wolf whistling, and high kicking.  There’s romance, too, and well…

“Everything always works out in musicals.”

I’m usually pretty tough on leads, but both Zach Berger (Robert Martin) and Christina Johnson (Janet van de Graaf) carried their characters with lagniappe to spare.  Saxon Murrell (Man in Chair) is well-cast, likeable, and established a good connection with the audience.  David Coker (Feldzieg) and Stephen A. Fister (George) were also particularly remarkable.

“Why are we dancing?  Our dreams are in tatters!”

Tap dancing normally irritates me.  I’m not exactly sure why.  Maybe it’s because most tap dancers seem more like they’re showing off their proficiency and fast feet, rather than dancing.  Ballet (and probably every other kind of dance) can suffer from the same affliction.  But the Drowsy Chaperone has a terrific and highly appropriate tap dancing number that may, in fact, rekindle my attention span for the whole art form.  It remembers that it’s dance first, tap second.  Tip of my hat to Michael Clowers as the show’s Choreographer and to Zach Berger and Stephen A. Fister for performing it so well.

“I don’t like intermissions.  They yank you back into reality.”

Now for the inevitable digression.  This show was performed without an intermission.  The “Man in Chair” character expresses at length his irritation at the concept of intermission at the theatre and, generally, his irritation with other theatre-goers in general.  He wants to be left alone, just him and the show, alone in a blissful Broadway cocoon.

I highly disagree and I’ve often said so.  The audience may be the best part.  I arrived about thirty minutes early and had an enjoyable time sitting in Caldwell Park watching the theatre-goers arrive.  Everyone from seniors with walkers to a pretty brunette tippitoeing her way through the park in her platform heels.  And it’s fun to stand up at intermission and have an excuse to watch all the people excited, twittering (a decidedly non-corporate use of that word), and milling around.

One thing that’s fascinating to watch is that different theatre groups attract entirely different audiences.  The audience for The Drowsy Chaperone was much older that the audience I expect at Night of the Living Dead at Theatre Downtown on Sunday night.  When I went to see Driving Miss Daisy by South City Theatre, I was one of the youngest people there.  When I saw Fame by the Magic City Actors Theatre, the audience was at least half college kids and younger.

There seems to be dreadfully little overlap in theatre crowds and it makes me wonder whether theatre groups are sharing marketing and audience information.  Someone needs to take a leadership role to encourage theatre in Birmingham – in general – by targeting audience members who have seen one show and telling them about other upcoming shows in Birmingham.  Or to make sure that each theatre company is helping to promote the others.

For example, when I go see the Drowsy Chaperone, why don’t they have an inexpensive insert in the program that mentions South City Theatre’s Ten Little Indians, Theatre Downtown’s Night of the Living Dead, and City Equity Theatre’s The Collector?  Or just a sign or maybe a quick announcement before the show?  Then those organizations could return the favor by promoting RMTC’s 13 Alabama Ghosts and Jeffrey.  Wouldn’t this be win-win for everyone and the audience could stop hunting around for what’s coming up next?

Point ‘em there.  Don’t count on them to find it themselves.

“Love is always lovely in the end.”

Thanks to Nicole Smith, The Red Mountain Theatre Company, Philip Mann, and Louise Beard for their involvement in letting me (and Birmingham) enjoy The Drowsy Chaperone.

“You mustn’t ever ask me questions.  If I want to tell you anything, I will.”

All I know is that any event involving fishnet stockings is instantly better:

• Cabaret by the Red Mountain Theatre Company
• Halloween, generally
• Dance events, generally
• Artwalk this year, because of that one flirty blonde
• The Rocky Horror Picture Show
• Some football halftime shows
• Dragon*Con
• The Monday morning staff meeting many years ago with that head-turning law clerk
• High school calculus class (my twenty-something teacher sometimes wore them)

It’s also instantly better when the dancers come out before the show and stretch – precociously – in the front of the house.  Or help to condiment your bratwurst before the show.  (Sunday evening at Red Mountain Theatre Company included a drink and light dinner, accessorized by the sultry Kit Kat dancers – a great touch.)  Outrageously distracting and a great way to skip everything out of the frame.  It’s hard to take notes with all those provocative girls hovering around.  I’m just glad I wasn’t on a first date.  I can’t imagine this sort of mischief happening over at the Alabama Ballet.  Two groups that are two different kinds of sexy.

“This is totally crazy – that’s why I thought you might go for it!”

The thing about Cabaret is that, when you look a little closer, the dancers are revealed to be a little more tired, more haggard, and more destitute.  Either that, or more menacing, ominous, and corrupt; the dancers are always watching from the sidelines in a sinister and threatening way.  As so often happens, something that looks amazing at first turns out to have more than a few chinks in the armor.  Things are never what they seem, and these characters get more faded and drained as the performance continues.  After a while, even the fishnets can’t cover it up.  This transformation reminds me of that “Ooh La La” song in Rushmore (by Faces):

Poor old Granddad,
I laughed at all his words
I thought he was a bitter man
He spoke of women’s ways
They’ll trap you then they’ll use you
Before you even know
For love is blind and you’re far too kind
Don’t ever let it show

The can-can’s such a pretty show
Will steal your heart away
But backstage back on earth again
The dressing rooms are grey
They come on strong and it ain’t too long
‘Fore they make you feel a man
But love is blind and you soon will find
You’re just a boy again

When you want her lips, you get her cheek
Makes you wonder where you are
If you want some more then she’s fast asleep
Leaves you twinkling with the stars…

I wish that I knew what I know now
When I was younger
I wish that I knew what I know now
When I was stronger

The Emcee (DaWoyne Alexander) may be one of my favorite characters in all of theatre.  He does a great job of being infectiously fun and worryingly malevolent all at once.  Sally Bowles (Ashley Wieronski) has a similar divide.  We’re asked to both like her yet realize exactly how much trouble she’s going to be.  Wieronski has a talented singing voice and has an excellent, careless, Daisy Buchanan moment, slinging her gin all over the floor while she talks.  On the other hand, Herr Schultz (Jesse Bates) had no menace in him at all and I can confidently single him out as tender, sweet, and practically perfect.  The American writer, Cliff (Joel Walker), does well at the tough job of playing likeable, but not quite memorable – a wallflower in the flamboyant world of the Kit Kat club.

It’s fun to turn around to check out the audience during a show and find them pretty much all smiles.  There’ s not much of a bigger compliment I could give.  Everyone’s already happy and awaiting their chance to grow those smiles even bigger.  A full house of satisfied customers.

Thank you to Nicole Smith and Red Mountain Theatre Company for letting me in to see a great show.

“Believe it, baby.  It talks.”

The Magic City Actors Theatre is currently putting on a very good performance of Little Shop of Horrors.  And it made me figure out that I don’t know how to categorize a musical (or an opera, for that matter) on this blog.   It obviously fits in my “Birmingham” section.  And it’s obviously “Theatre”.  But can it also be “Music”?  Or do I have to reserve the category for things that are just music?  Then there’s my troublesome “Dance” category.  More on that in a minute.

There are different levels of music in theatre.  When the Park Players did Much Ado About Nothing, there was some singing.  And some dancing.  But I wouldn’t have classified it as “Music” or “Dance”.  But Little Shop of Horrors is a more straightforward musical.  So it was mostly singing, though there was some speaking.  And it had a five-piece orchestra.  So it has to count as “Music”, right?

Here’s the philosophical question: How much music can a play have before it becomes a musical?  Two songs?  Four?  Half and half?  Or does it have to be mostly music?  I don’t know.

And then, what if I broaden my definition of music?  I have absolutely no doubt that a charismatic, powerful, and persuasive speaking voice has strong musical and melodic overtones.  Actors know that.  When I watched auditions, I was forced to admit to being surprised at how essential a good voice is for an actor.  I’d think some study of singing – even if you’re not a “singer” – would be very helpful.  Even, perhaps, if you’re in some other career where you talk to people during part of your day.  It can’t hurt.

This Little Shop of Horrors cast offers several examples, but most notably, Kyle Holman as the dentist boyfriend is instantly brilliant and hilarious from the moment he appears onstage.  He also shines as several other smaller characters.  At least some part of his charisma comes from his vocal inflection and talent.  Direct from his bio: Kyle “is a full time Voice Actor and has been featured in numerous radio and TV commercials and video games . . . .”  Also, any production of Little Shop has to give the plant a personality, and one of the ways is to give it a big, memorable voice.

The Audrey II plant also has to move – which leads me to my next point.  Yes, they do some actual choreography and dancing in Little Shop of Horrors, but a big part of the plant’s character and personality comes from the puppetry and planning of its movement.  Making the mouth sync with the voice is part of the magic.  It’s also got to feel sinister.  This trick falls to Seymour (Edward “Dane” Peterson) when Audrey II is just a little bud, then to an actor/dancer inside the Audrey II (Dallas Taylor) once it gets bigger.

All of the other characters likewise have a distinct personality in their movement.  You could “mute” the whole show, watch it in pantomime, and I think it would still be pretty entertaining.  It’s got to be difficult for a seasoned performer/dancer to fill Seymour with such a sweet, nerdy clumsiness.  Audrey (Tawny Stephens) has a prissy, feminine, and gentle movement and a wiggly, staccato walk that I’d really like to teach to all my future girlfriends.  The urchins (Shekinah Lampkin, Cristi Strickland, and Ashley Guin) – spectacular as a group – are full of loose, streetwise attitude. Finally, the dentist moves in a way that you know he’s both unpredictable and full of menace.  Chaotic evil.

So here’s my trouble.  Since it’s got so much important, expressive movement, does this performance of Little Shop of Horrors qualify as “Dance”?  I don’t know.

So I’ll tie it into something else.  I got invited the other day to come watch Alabama School for the Fine Arts graduate Margi Cole work through some choreography with the Sanspointe Dance Company.  She established a few ground rules for the dancers and then let ‘em pretty much improvise their own movement, subject to editing and tinkering.  But even for something that’s pure dance, a lot of the fun comes from watching and discovering the character of a dancer – as expressed through their movement.

In other words, I think I could tell something about each dancer’s personality by watching them move.  Especially considering they created a lot of their own motion.  But I think you can still tell a lot about a dancer, even in something highly stylized like ballet.  Isn’t that the whole point of dance?  Expression – literally?  So when Sanspointe dancers move, they’re moving to express personality or emotion of some sort.  And when the Little Shop actors move, they’re also moving to express personality or emotion of some sort.  And when I’m doing the pimp roll down Fifth Avenue, the point is expression.

So why isn’t everything “Dance”?  It is, isn’t it?  Or – to flip it around – why isn’t dance an essential skill to learn (or to teach our children), once you start to think of it as expressing personality and emotion through movement?  It’s very important both to be able to move in a way that is an accurate reflection of yourself and also to be able to accurately read others’ movement.  I might put that up there with essential life skills.  At the very least, actors should study a little dance – and dancers could probably benefit from studying a little theatre.

So that’s that – everything’s dance.  And music.  And art.  But we gotta draw lines somewhere.

Thanks to Natalie Valentine and the Magic City Actors Theatre for putting on a “Birmingham”, “Music”, “Theatre” experience and to the Sanspointe Dance Company for giving me a “Birmingham”, “Dance” experience.