"I Am What I Am"

I was excited earlier this week to read about the 22-track La Cage Aux Folles revival CD from PS Classics, which will be released Sept. 28. It comes with an extensive booklet that includes an essay by La Cage book writer Harvey Fierstein and - most exciting - lyrics!

Until then, my iPod is happily stuck on the original Broadway cast recording, released in 1983. (Yes, I'm playing it over and over again. Oh, that full orchestra.)

This week, I also listened to a Masterworks Broadway podcast with composer Jerry Herman, who recounts breaking new ground with La Cage aux Folles:

"We knew that we were dealing with a subject that had never been attempted, a musical about about two men who loved each other and who had spent most of their lives together running a little cabaret in the south of France. And I loved the story, I loved what it had to say. I thought it was both funny and touching at the same time."

Herman also talked about writing the song that has become the heart of the musical: "I Am What I Am."

It's a powerful, empowering anthem sung by the drag performer Albin, who learns that the son he raised with his partner, Georges, doesn't want him present at a family event.

Albin is, of course, terribly hurt and "I Am What I Am," which ends the first act, is his response. What I appreciate is that it's not a plea for mere tolerance - he sings "I don't want praise, I don't want pity" but a statement about living your life openly, learning to love yourself.

George Hearn, the original Albin on Broadway, won a Tony Award for his portrayal. Herman said, "I am never not moved when I hear George Hearn's interpretation of that song."

I feel the same way.

La Cage aux Folles

La Cage Aux Folles, at the Longacre Theatre on Broadway.
Gratuitous Violins rating: **** out of ****

While I knew the plot of La Cage aux Folles going in, until this Tony-winning Broadway revival I'd never seen the show on stage.

So Jerry Herman's unforgettable score was new. Combine that with tender, sensitive performances from Chris Hoch as Georges, owner of a St. Tropez nightclub, and Tony winner Douglas Hodge as the drag queen Albin, his life partner. Add a book by Harvey Fierstein that's humorous but never loses sight of the human element. Toss in some fun, athletic Cagelles.

What you get is a musical that captured my heart. With warmth and wit, La Cage aux Folles gets to the true meaning of family values: the love we show each other, the sacrifices we make.

In their 20 years together Georges and Albin have raised a son, Jean-Michel, the product of Georges' one-night stand. He's engaged to the daughter of the conservative Monsieur Dindon, head of the Tradition, Family and Morality Party. And when he brings his future in-laws home for dinner, he doesn't want the flamboyant Albin to be there.

Hodge, who transferred with this production from London's Menier Chocolate Factory, plays Albin as dramatic and insecure. He's an aging actor surrounded by the younger and more agile drag performers. He's a parent terribly hurt by the son he adores. The attempts to make him appear more "masculine" were funny but also heartbreaking.

Hoch, on in place of the vacationing Kelsey Grammer, was terrific. His Georges is steady and patient - a perfect counterpart and soulmate to Albin. He's wonderfully expressive: hilarious as he coaxes Albin out of his dressing room, stern as he reminds Jean-Michel of all the things Albin has done for the family. And he has a deep, beautiful singing voice.

Herman's songs illuminate the lives of these two men and their love for each other so well - an emotional "Look Over There" that Georges sings to his son, Albin's anthemic "I Am What I Am," the poignant "Song on the Sand" when Georges serenades Albin, and a stirring "The Best of Times."

There were times when I was moved to tears, including the scene at an outdoor cafe when Georges tries to hold Albin's hand, only to be warned away because someone is watching. The brief moment when they finally touch made me think about my friends who are gay and lesbian and how guarded they have to be with their affection in public.

From what I've read, this La Cage aux Folles takes place in a nightclub that's more rundown, with fewer dancers than in previous productions. It worked fine for me. I have rarely had as much fun sitting in my seat as I did when the Cagelles started tossing giant beach balls into the audience, which we swatted back onto the stage.

I liked the supporting cast, too: A.J. Shively in his Broadway debut as Jean-Michel plays a young man more misguided than mean-spirited. Robin De Jesus provided great comic relief as Jacob, the butler/maid devoted to Albin, who dreams of being a performer.

Fred Applegate was effective as the blustery, narrow-minded Monsieur Dindon. Yes, Dindon is a stereotypical bad guy but the hurtful things he says are mild in comparison with the bigotry of real-life antigay groups.

And talk about morality - contrast the way he browbeats his wife and daughter with Georges and Albin, who go through a charade, pretend to be people they're not, in order to make their son happy. When they affirm who they are, simply and with dignity, I wanted to cheer.

Last week I wrote about Grammer's absence and I questioned whether Hoch, who's younger, would be believable as Georges. Well, he won me over from the first scene until after the curtain call, when he put his arm around Hodge's waist and they walked offstage together.

All I can say is, bravo.

Harvey on Hairspray

"Miracles like Hairspray don't happen every day, as we all know. Shows like this just don't come along. And it's been our privilege, those of us on the stage and many more, to participate and gain from this wonderful, wonderful show. But the best part is, no matter what mood we were in coming in the theatre, every one of us knew that we would turn the audience into a swinging bunch. [applause] ... and open up people's hearts and just make them better people for having seen it. And so, I would like to thank everyone on this stage for allowing me to be part of their lives but most of all, for what they created here."

From Harvey Fierstein's speech this afternoon at the final performance of Hairspray on Broadway. He was joined on stage by the creative team and some of those who played roles in the Tony-winning musical during its 6-1/2-year-run at the Neil Simon Theatre.

Hairspray

Gratuitous Violins rating: **** out of ****

For months I've just assumed that Spring Awakening would be my first experience seeing the same show on Broadway and on tour. I've even mentioned in my blog a couple of times how I was looking forward to comparing the two productions when the national tour comes my way next year.

Then, fate intervened.

The producers of Hairspray announced that the show would end its Broadway run Jan. 4 after 6 1/2 years. Harvey Fierstein anounced that he would return to reprise his Tony-winning role as Baltimore housewife Edna Turnblad for the final two months. And that event just happened to coincide with my already-planned weeklong trip to New York City.

So in a bit of perfect timing that usually doesn't occur in my life, Hairspray, one of my favorite musicals, becomes the first show I can say that I've seen on Broadway and on tour. And I got to see it with one of its original Tony-winning cast members.

(It was also announced this week that Tony winner Marissa Jarret Winokur, the original Tracy Turnblad, is coming back Dec. 9 for the final month of the run but sadly, I'll miss seeing her.)

Let's get the most important thing out of the way - I loved it in both places. Granted, I saw the tour more than a year ago, so I can't compare them in great detail. I don't remember whether the sets or choreography were different on tour or whether they cut or rearranged things. And I didn't see the show on Broadway with its original cast, like I did with Spring Awakening.

But no matter where you see it, Hairspray still has the same energy, the same humor, the same terrific, catchy pop score by Marc Shaiman and Scott Wittman and the same inspiring story. What really came through this time though - even more than the story - was the buoyancy of the music and the energy of Jerry Mitchell's choreography.

I don't know whether this makes sense, but sitting in the orchestra at the Neil Simon Theatre, I could practically feel the music. This is a fun, joyous and moving show. I've enjoyed every version of Hairspray - John Waters' 1988 movie, the musical and the 2007 movie of the musical, but I have to say that the stage version is my favorite.

And I've loved every Tracy Turnblad, too, including Marissa Perry on Broadway. She's so eager and sweet and sincere as the plus-sized teen who dreams of dancing on The Corny Collins Show. She also doesn't see any reason why black kids and white kids can't dance together on television. After all, it's 1962 and there's a New Frontier.

I really enjoyed the rest of the cast, and I think part of the reason is that the characters are so memorable. Constantine Rousouli does a great job as teen heartthrob Link Larkin. Tevin Campbell is wonderful as Seaweed, the black kid who teaches Tracy a whole new set of dance moves and introduces her to a new side of town. He has great chemistry with Tracy's friend Penny, played by Niki Scalera. And Kate Loprest has down the whole spoiled rich girl thing as Amber von Tussle. Gretchen Bieber was perfect as her snooty, conniving mother, Velma.

The only question is: How big a difference is seeing Hairspray with Harvey?

Well for me, it kicks everything up a notch and makes the show even more hilarious. He has so much energy and he's such a great comic actor - the way he raises his eyes or scrunches up his mouth or jumps up on the hot dog cart in "Welcome to the Sixties." I loved his duet with Ken Marks as Wilbur Turnblad in "You're Timeless to Me." All I can say is - John Travolta? Puhleeeze. No one holds a candle to Harvey in this role.

I had a chance to meet Scott Wittman, one half of the composing team, in May, and I told him how much I loved Hairspray. We were standing at the stage door after A Catered Affair and he was waiting for Harvey to finish signing autographs. He pointed to Harvey said that he was a big part of the show's success. Now, I see his point, although I still think the show is strong enough to stand on its own, even without Tony winners in the cast.

Of course, I didn't have quite the same reaction as I did the first time I saw Hairspray. Back then, it was the excitement of discovering something new. Here, it was like spending an evening with an old friend - I was so excited waiting for my favorite songs and scenes and lines.

I wrote a couple weeks ago that when I first saw Hairspray, I was reduced to tears hearing Motormouth Maybelle, the African-American record shop owner, sing "I Know Where I've Been." The song truly evoked the great civil-rights anthems of the 1960s. I expected to have the same reaction a second time, but while Charlotte Crossley's rendition was powerful, it didn't evoke the same reaction.

When I saw Hairspray on tour 18 months ago, I thought more about the the way things were, about the long struggle to overcome racial segregation in this country. The musical tells such an inspiring, important story in a very entertaining way - it's about standing up for what you believe in, no matter what the cost. It's about how, sometimes, the most unlikely people can be heroes - and get to dance on television.

This time, maybe because I was still on a post-election high, I felt differently about Hairspray. I reveled in the fact that we had overcome. I was grinning pretty much throughout the entire show, and I felt proud.

Last stop Greenwich Village

I spent most of yesterday in Greenwich Village before going to the Public Theater for Road Show.

This was my second time there, and it's definitely an area I want to check out again. You could spend hours walking around all the side streets, looking at the little shops and reading the menus posted outside every type of restaurant imaginable.

There were lots of students walking around NYU's massive campus surrounding Washington Square Park. For an urban campus, it has a surprising amount of green, leafy spaces. And it's a subway ride from Broadway. Then I crossed over the other side of the Public, which I guess is the beginning of the East Village, a little scruffier neighborhood but fun for browsing.

I did ask someone at the Public Theater about Kevin Spacey. He said he'd heard the story about him working in the stockroom. But he said that Kevin actually worked all over the building, in the loading area and sweeping up the theaters after shows. Hmmm, Kevin only talks about handing out pencils and notepads. Maybe he forgot about the other part?

Last night I saw Hairspray on Broadway. A full review will come later but let's get one thing out of the way - Harvey Fierstein is Edna Turnblad. John Travolta? Meh. Puhleeese! Harvey was hilarious - so expressive with his face and his body and surprisingly light on his feet. He was wonderful, simply wonderful.

Tonight - a little horsing around with Daniel Radcliffe in Equus. Harry Potter is all grown up and I'll be seeing him live - seeing all of him!

Welcome to the end of the '60s

All history buffs have their passions and mine happens to be the 1960s, especially the antiwar and civil rights movements. While my interest isn't as great as it once was, a good '60s story still gets to me. So this week, in some ways a culmination of that much maligned and misunderstood decade, has been pretty dramatic.

And on Wednesday night, there'll be one more bit of 1960s-tinged drama. I'll be in the audience at Broadway's Neil Simon Theatre watching Hairspray, with Harvey Fierstein reprising his Tony-winning role as the oversized and over-stressed housewife Edna Turnblad. Fierstein's come back to take a victory lap with Hairspray, which ends its 6 1/2-year Broadway run Jan. 18.

I've loved the musical ever since I saw it on tour last year. The book, by Thomas Meehan and Mark O'Donnell, based on John Waters' movie, does such a terrific job bringing to life the struggle to end segregation. It's done in a way that doesn't seem preachy or overly sentimental. The effort of white teenager Tracy Turnblad to integrate a Baltimore teen dance show, so that black teens could dance every week, makes learning about history entertaining - fun even.

Plus, Hairspray has some great pop tunes by Marc Shaiman and Scott Wittman that really capture the decade's early years - a time when America was on the cusp of change. The original Broadway cast recording is one of my favorites.

When I saw the show on tour, one song really got to me. Yvette Monique Clark's rendition of "I know where I've been" was so powerful, so emotional. The song, with lyrics "There's a dream in the future, there's a struggle that we have yet to win," truly evokes the civil-rights anthems of the 1960s. At the end, black kids and white kids, standing from one end of the stage to another, are holding hands. It was the first time I ever felt like giving a song a standing ovation.

With the election of Barack Obama, I suspect hearing that song again will be even more poignant, By the end of Hairspray, I fully expect to be a wet, blubbery mess. (Must remember to pack extra tissues.)

It's kind of fitting that Hairspray will close the same week of Obama's inauguration as our nation's 44th president. In some ways, they're bookends for the 1960s. And as op-ed columnist Gail Collins wrote in The New York Times this week, the baby boom generation deserves a round of applause:

"The boomers didn’t win any wars and that business about being self-involved was not entirely unfounded. On the other hand, they made the nation get serious about the idea of everybody being created equal. And now American children are going to grow up unaware that there’s anything novel in an African-American president or a woman running for the White House. We’ll settle for that."

So I'm looking forward to seeing Hairspray on stage for a second time, when I'll applaud and likely shed a few tears as I watch Tracy, Edna and company take a well-deserved bow.

A closing bounce for Hairspray

Wow, talk about mixed emotions.

Now it's official. Hairspray, the 2003 Tony winner for Best Musical, will close on Broadway Jan. 4, ending its run of 6 1/2 years with a total of 2,672 performances at the Neil Simon Theatre. But - this is the great part - Harvey Fierstein, who won a Tony award for playing Edna Turnblad, will reprise the role starting Nov. 11.

For a whole host of reasons, many of which I've mentioned before, Hairspray is one of my favorite musicals. (Some of those reasons include: my interest in the 1960s and the civil-rights movement, my love of catchy pop scores, the fact that Mark O'Donnell and Thomas Meehan's Tony-winning book, based on the John Waters movie, is truly integrated, with substantive roles for white and black actors.) But I've only seen it on tour, never on Broadway.

In May, I met Scott Wittman, who, with Marc Shaiman, his creative and life partner of nearly 30 years, wrote the Tony-winning score for Hairspray. He was standing outside the stage door after A Catered Affair, waiting for Harvey Fierstein. When I told him how much I loved Hairspray, he graciously thanked me, then pointed to Harvey and said he was big part of the show's success.

Well, I have to respectfully disagree with Mr. Wittman on one count. I think Hairspray's songs, memorable characters and inspiring story make it pretty terrific on its own, even without a star. But I'm so excited that now, I'll have a chance to see what he meant.

Listening to A Catered Affair

I've been listening to the Broadway cast recording of A Catered Affair for the past couple of days. After I see a show, listening to the music either confirms how I felt about it in the first place, or makes me reconsider. In this case, I love John Bucchino's songs even more.

I'd never heard of Bucchino before A Catered Affair, so I didn't quite know what to expect. But his melodies are absolutely beautiful. I know there's been some criticism that the songs in this musical all sound alike. It's true that on one level the music is similar - there aren't any upbeat numbers, for example. Honestly though, the music is so stirring, the similarity didn't bother me. In fact, I think it's a strength - it makes the 90-minute musical a cohesive whole.

But don't be misled - even though the music may sound similar, if you listen to the lyrics, they're all quite different in tone. Each one is told from the perspective of a different character in this working-class family in the Bronx in the 1950s. And Bucchino packs so much into those lyrics - they're little stories in song, and they reveal so much about the lives of these people.

Each song paints a very clear portrait of each of the characters - Tom and Aggie Hurley, who are grieving the death of their soldier son in Korea, their daughter Jane, so eager to begin married life, and Aggie's brother Winston, who's at a crossroads in his life.

One song that stood out for me even more on the cast recording was when Faith Prince's Aggie sings about "Our Only Daughter." She and her husband, played by Tom Wopat, placed all of their hopes and dreams on the back of their son, to the detriment of their daughter. Terrence was the one who got a chance to go to college, while their daughter, Jane, had to go to work.

It's only after their son is killed that Aggie realizes all of the sacrifices that Jane, played by Leslie Kritzer, has made for the family. "She never asked for more because life taught her that there was nothing more for our only daughter." It's that realization that makes Aggie want to use her son's military death benefit to give her daughter a lavish catered affair - the big wedding that she herself never had.

I've known families like this - who basically sacrificed everything for their son, and their daughter's needs came second. I think it's probably very realistic for that time period. I even remember 25 years ago having a roommate in college who told me that her brother was smarter - and it was better for a boy to have the brains.

Another moment I loved was when Harvey Fierstein's Uncle Winston sings "Coney Island." It really moved me when I heard it on stage. The only other time I'd heard him sing was on the Broadway cast recording of Hairspray. And he sounds so different here, like he's trying to modulate his famously gravelly voice.

When he sings to his sister about a long-ago ride on the roller coaster at Coney Island, "You're halfway through another ride, don't wait until the scary feelings pass. Just take a breath and open up your eyes right now," it's really sweet and tender. I was so touched by the sentiment behind those words, the love and caring between this brother and sister.

I think A Catered Affair is the type of show where I'll find something new whenever I listen to the score. And I definitely need to start listening to more of John Bucchino's music.

A Catered Affair

Gratuitous Violins rating: **** out of ****

I've written before about my love for musicals with elaborate sets, rousing songs and intricately choreographed dance numbers. But that's not all I love. There's plenty of room in my musical theatre fandom to heap some praise on a small gem of a show like A Catered Affair.

This is a thoughtful musical that treats working-class characters in the Bronx in the 1950s with dignity and tenderness. Its themes of family and love and sacrifice resonated with me. John Bucchino's score is quite moving in the way that it articulates what the characters are thinking and feeling. And Harvey Fierstein has packed a lot of emotion, including a bit of humor, into his book, based on a movie by Gore Vidal and a teleplay by Paddy Chayefsky.

This is a musical that's really unlike any other I've seen over the past 18 months. A Catered Affair doesn't overreach. Under John Doyle's direction, it's a well-told slice of life about a family at a crossroads. I liked the way it showed the different dreams of people living under the same roof. And one thing I appreciated when I thought about it later, it's generally a very quiet musical, which was kind of nice for a change.

Aggie and Tom Hurley, played by Faith Prince and Tom Wopat, are coping with the loss of their soldier son, killed in Korea. Understandably, that grief contributes to the subdued mood of A Catered Affair, but I wouldn't describe it as a gloomy or somber musical. Just the opposite - I found it very hopeful and life-affirming.

Aggie wants to use the military's death benefit to give their daughter Janey the lavish wedding that she never had. But Tom has a dream of his own that he's been harboring all these years: he wants to buy a share of his taxi business. And their daughter, played so sweetly and with such determination by Leslie Kritzer, wants a simple wedding at city hall with her fiance, Ralph, a nicely low-key Matt Cavenaugh, so that the two can embark on a cross-country car trip.

Prince and Wopat portray Aggie and Tom with great sympathy and poignancy. Up until this point, they've been consumed by the details of daily life. They've probably spent the past 20 years not talking to each other. Now, for the first time in their marriage, they will be alone with each other. And all of that bottled-up emotion is coming out, when Aggie dreams about the perfect wedding in "Vision," or Tom's stunning and forceful "I Stayed."

The disagreement about what to do with the money reminded me of another working-class family in the 1950s, the African-American Youngers in A Raisin in the Sun. But seeing the folded, triangular-shaped American flag resting on the kitchen table also reminded me of stories I've read recently, of families who have lost a son or daughter in Iraq or Afghanistan and face a similar dilemma.

This was my first time seeing Harvey Fierstein on stage, and hearing that gravelly voice in person was thrilling. Initially, I had some reservations about his role. He plays Aggie's brother Winston, a "confirmed bachelor" in 1950s jargon. His comic turn seemed a bit out of place in a story about a grieving family. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized how essential he was to the story.

I think audiences really crave the relief that laughter provides. A Catered Affair is a pretty serious musical, but Fierstein's book wisely includes a few scenes that lighten the mood. In one of them, his anger at not being invited to the wedding leads to a drunken outburst that's sad and funny. Ok, maybe his voice isn't the best, but I thought he was so touching in his big song, "Coney Island."

There's another reason why Winston's role is so important. In the popular culture of the 1950s, blacks, Jews and gays are largely at the margins of society, or invisible. But of course, there were gay men in the 1950s. What A Catered Affair does is make these men visible by giving a voice to their lives and their loves and their dreams, by showing them as fully realized human beings, as part of supportive families. And that's the way it should be.

I also loved the way David Gallo's set and Zachary Borovay's projection design evoked New York City - from the pictures of tenements projected on the back wall, to Janey and Ralph's beautiful duet on a fire escape, "Don't ever stop saying I love you." This was an era when extended families lived with each other in cramped apartments, and when two young people would never think about taking a cross-country drive together unless they were married. I also loved the trio of neighborhood busybodies, played by Lori Wilner, Kristine Zbornik and Heather MacRae, who lean out of their windows to trade the latest gossip.

At its core, A Catered Affair is a story about love - between a husband and wife, between siblings, between parents and children, between two men. Even though we never actually see the object of Winston's affection, we know there is someone special in his life. It's a story about what family members do for each other, the sacrifices they make, it's about the things that get unsaid in a relationship, about a younger generation yearning to break free from their parents.

I wrestled with my rating for A Catered Affair, whether to give it 3 1/2 or 4 stars. But I'm giving it the benefit of the doubt. In the interest of full disclosure, a knee injury flared up soon after the show started, and I was in intense pain for the first 45 minutes. I spent the last 45 minutes standing at the back of the mezzanine in the Walter Kerr Theatre, which actually was a pretty good vantage point.

Since then, I've thought a lot about A Catered Affair. While some musicals are pretty forgettable, this one stayed with me. I went to the Web site and listened to some of the songs, and they moved me once again. Even the parts that gave me pause initially, like Winston's role, seemed to fit when I really thought about them. If it weren't for the knee pain, I think these things would have struck me while I was watching, and made a bigger impact.

In the end, A Catered Affair isn't the biggest, boldest or brashest musical I've ever seen, but it's certainly one of the most heartfelt.