A noteworthy exhibit

Even though the name of my blog is Gratuitous Violins, I'm not a very musically inclined person. I love music, don't get me wrong. I've just never played an instrument and I'm far from being an audiophile.

But I am interested in the creative process - all of the musty old typewritten sheets and handwritten notes and sketches that writers and musicians and artists probably never realized would someday be considered history.

So today, I'm at the New York Public Library for the Performing Arts, at Lincoln Center, on a very rainy day in Manhattan. I just finished walking through an exhibit called Writing to Character: Songrwiters and the Tony Awards.

Now, I'm taking advantage of the library's free Internet access. Yes, all I had to do was show my driver's license, and I could stay connected for 45 minutes. Then, because no one was waiting to use the terminal, they gave me another 15 minutes. Truly, one of the best bargains in New York City.

Anyway, I digress. The exhibit is a a really interesting look at what went into creating some of Broadway's most famous musicals, and what changed from the beginning of the writing process to opening night.

(Although I think I went through the exhibit backward. I started at an old black and white photograph of people lined up on the sidewalk in front of the Imperial Theatre waiting to buy tickets to a show - in pre-Internet days. It's a scene that's almost kind of quaint now.)

The displays basically take you through the process of writing a musical - from the initial idea, to the sheet music, to handwritten notes on the margins of typed up lyrics and pages of dialogue, to sketches for sets and costumes, to the posters, to opening-night gifts and invitations to opening-night parties and congratulatory telegrams. (I guess people send each other congratulatory opening night e-mails today).

You can see some of the sketches for costumes for Fiddler on the Roof, some of the late Jonathan Larson's notes on the characters in Rent, and the flier for the musical before it moved to Broadway, instructions for how the dancers should act in the song "One" from A Chorus Line, and sheet music from Sweeney Todd.

There's also a long memo from producer Leland Hayward to Richard Rodgers about The Sound of Music. (He seemed very fixated on Mary Martin's entrance). One thing I want to point out: Parade composer Jason Robert Brown has very tiny handwriting.

You have to wonder whether an exhibit like this will even be possible 25 years from now. I guess some things, like music, will always be written out. But as we move more and more to a paperless society, will there be scripts with notes in the margins to save anymore?

After the exhibit, I walked across the street from Lincoln Center for lunch at Fiorello's, a terrific recommendation from Bill, the theatergoing buddy of Jan, from Broadway & Me. I had an extremely filling and delicious meal of spaghetti with chunks of grilled yellowfin tuna, tomatoes, peppers and mushrooms, cooked with an abundance of olive oil.

Then, since it was still pouring rain, I walked back to Lincoln Center to see if I could take the Metropolitan Opera tour. Normally, you have to reserve in advance, but if they have space, they'll fit you in. Five of us were waiting, and we all got a spot.

Now, I've never actually seen an opera, but I have read a lot about them through Sarah at Adventures in the Endless Pursuit of Entertainment. She makes a night at the opera sound very thrilling.

I think this was the best backstage tour I've taken in New York City. It's $15, lasts 90 minutes, and it's worthwhile, even if you've never seen an opera. The breadth of what they show you is just amazing.

Our guide was a retired New Jersey judge and opera lover named Gerry. We pretty much went everywhere - dressing rooms, rehearsal rooms, costume shop, the carpentry and metalworking shops, walked backstage. We even stood outside one of the rooms where a rehearsal was going on and listened for a few minutes.

Then, at the end, we walked into the auditorium itself. Wow, what a magnificent place, with five balconies, wood paneling, and plush red velour seats. I'd definitely love to come back and see something there.

Happy Independence Day

Tomorrow, Israelis will celebrate Yom Ha'atzmaut, Independence Day. I think this fits the definition of irony: Ten years ago, for the 50th anniversary, I was in Tel Aviv. This year, for the 60th, I'll be in New York City - that other Jewish homeland. To mark the occasion, here's something I wrote after I came back from my first trip to Israel, in August 1995.

I'm back from my first trip to Israel. Over two weeks, I stood on the Golan Heights, planted a tree in Jerusalem and dipped my toes in the Red Sea. We may have seen some things for only a few minutes, but we saw everything. I have the photos to prove it.

I'm not a religious person. I was afraid my view would be warped by having seen Exodus a few too many times. I thought maybe I was setting myself up to be disappointed. I told myself to be realistic. I didn't expend to find Paul Newman.

I needn't have worried. Israel is an incredibly compelling place. We had a great guide who not only knew the history, but spoke with such candor and love for his country that it was inspiring.

During dinner at a waterfront restaurant in Jaffa, driving on the highway to Tiberias, or walking around Jerusalem on a Sabbath afternoon Israel seemed like the most peaceful place on earth. I walked around Jerusalem, including the Old City, by myself and I felt completely safe.

I don't mean to poke holes in any long-held cultural stereotypes about Israelis being brusque, but everyone was friendly. Ok, there was one guy in a Tel Aviv store who got a little sarcastic when I asked him if he spoke English. "Only when I have to," he said. But when I told him it was my first day in Israel and I was afraid I'd broken my camera, he became the essence of helpfulness, fixing the problem with a little tape. And I never asked that question again.

Sometimes it seemed as though the word "line" didn't exist in Hebrew. I soon realized that if I wanted service in a crowded place, I'd have to speak up and hold my ground. But that's the same the world over.

I didn't even mind the famously stringent El Al security check at Kennedy Airport in New York. I tried to think what they'd ask to figure out whether I was Jewish without really coming out and asking me: Name three Woody Allen movies. What type of condiment would you put on a corned beef sandwich?

I knew it was for my own safety and I'm glad it was so thorough. But some of the questions did touch psychological sore spots left over from my childhood.

"Did you ever try to learn Hebrew?" I was asked.
"Yes," I replied.
"Why?"
"Because my parents made me go to Hebrew school."

After being asked for the third time why I wanted to go to Israel, I finally blurted out, "Because I'm Jewish and I've never been." That seemed to satisfy the security person. ("Aha," I imagined her thinking. "We got you to admit it, you assimilated, self-denying, non-observant American.")

When I finally got through it, I was sweating. But I felt like I had passed some test of my Jewishness. The Israelis though I was acceptable to enter their country. "Ok," further imagined them thinking, "we'll let you enter the Promised Land even though you complained about being forced to learn Hebrew, waited 36 years to decide that you wanted to come visit and we know you ate bacon yesterday."

What will I remember most?

I'll remember walking back from dinner along the promenade in Tel Aviv. It was nearly midnight and there were still plenty of people strolling. I thought, "I can't believe it. All of these people are Jewish."

I'll remember my bus ride in Jerusalem, disregarding a State Department advisory. When I asked someone at the tourist information center whether it was safe, he said "Sure. Most of the drivers are nice." That wasn't exactly what I was wondering, but I didn't want to admit that I was scared.

I was pretty nervous during the ride and I kept looking around the bus. I realized that this is what Israelis live with every day. When I saw my fellow passengers - small children, the elderly, Orthodox, secular, everyday working people - it brought the fear of terrorism home to me in a very personal way.

I wondered what it would be like seeing soldiers everywhere, and when a group of them walked into a museum in Tel Aviv, it did seem a little strange. Our guide explained that they were visiting as part of their training. Actually, I saw more soldiers in musems than anywhere else. After awhile, they were a natural part of the landscape, and they seemed so young.

There were some surprises. I was prepared to see soldiers, lots of men in yarmulkes, and American fast food. I wasn't prepared for the Volkswagens. They're everywhere.

I was amazed at the quietness of Jerusalem on a Saturday afternoon. I kept looking before I crossed a street, even though there were hardly any cars. Saturday seemed like Sunday and Sunday seemed like Monday.

Before I went, many people told me that Israel would feel like home, that I'd be amazed at seeing Jewish police officers and bus drivers. It wasn't quite like home - the bagels aren't as good - but it did feel comfortable.

When we visited the Western Wall, Judaism's holiest spot, our guide told us to remember that the stones weren't important. What's important is that we're here, that after Auschwitz, we survived. He talked about how Israel is gaining more international acceptance, coming out of its isolation. "It was like we were on another planet. Now, we can breathe like a normal country."

When I was growing up, being Jewish meant missing school for a few days every fall and explaining that I celebrated Hanukah instead of Christmas. It was never this much fun. I loved exploring the Roman ruins at Bet She'an, trekking up to the waterfall at Ein Gedi and browsing through the stores on Jerusalem's Ben Yehuda Street pedestrian mall. I know what our guide meant when he told us that in Israel, he didn't have to do anything to be Jewish.

Of course, two weeks as a tourist isn't the same as living in a country. And Israel is a real country, not a Jewish Disneyland. I talked to a few people about how difficult life can be, about their fear that the younger generation is losing a sense of purpose. I saw panhandlers and a few people sleeping on the sidewalk in Tel Aviv. There were a couple of bomb scares. But none of that negates what's been accomplished over the past 47 years, despite war, terrorism, international boycotts.

I feel a little embarrassed that I was nervous about visiting. I hope Israelis realize that their country still has the power to move people. And I hope that the 80-odd percent of American Jews who have never been there will visit. It doesn't matter whether they shop, sit on the beach or have a spiritual awakening.

I was moved in a way I never expected. I never expected to feel so deeply, so emotionally about the country, to the point that I was sobbing when I left. Oh yeah, I even saw Paul Newman - in the salad dressing aisle at the supermarket.

DVR alert!

Getting the attention of tourists is obviously a big challenge for a Broadway show. According to the latest statistics from the Broadway League, 65 percent of the 12.3 million tickets sold in the 2006-2007 season were purchased by out-of-towners.

My first introduction to Spring Awakening was watching the cast perform "The Bitch of Living" on The Late Show in 2007, and that performance definitely got me interested in seeing the show. I've still got it on my DVR, along with plenty of other Broadway guest appearances and performances from musicals over the past year.

Since Rosie O'Donnell left The View, I was afraid the theatre quotient would drop. It turns out that my fears were unfounded. According to this article from Playbill, there's a good lineup over the next month.

The highlights include Patti LuPone on June 5, and performances from the casts of Passing Strange (May 12) and In the Heights (May 29). I have to admit, I did laugh at this pairing: Spamalot's Clay Aiken and Macbeth's Patrick Stewart, both on Thursday. I'm hoping that Passing Strange especially will get a bit of a bounce from the appearance. It's currently playing at 44.8 percent capacity, and it deserves to be better known. Ok, granted, The View may not be its target demographic, but hey, it can't hurt. Hopefully, both of these musicals will get Late Show appearances.

With all of these appearances, and the Tony nominations scheduled to be announced May 13, can Broadway Week on Live with Regis and Kelly be far behind? To get you in the mood, here's a link to last year's shows.

Which kind of traveler are you?

There was a good series of stories in the travel section of The Washington Post this weekend about visiting New York City - very appropriate, since that's where I'll be in a few days. Five writers each took a slightly different approach to spending 24 hours in the city that never sleeps.

They all boarded the 7:30 a.m. Bolt Bus from Washington, and 4 hours later, they were in Manhattan, each looking for their own particular kind of thrill: the Nosher, the Culture Hound, the Adventurer, Family Guy and Tourist Trapper.

The Adventurer had quite a workout. I'm not sure I want to sweat that much on vacation. She went on a bicycle ride through Central Park; visited The Cloisters, took a hip-hop class at the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater; took in an improv show at the Upright Citizens Brigade; and tried the driving range at Chelsea Piers.

The Nosher tried a kosher Central Asian restaurant in the Diamond District, walked around the Essex Street Market before taking in a culinary tour of the Lower East Side, including pickles and Italian and Chinese baked goods, attended a performance of the Philip Glass opera Satyagraha at the Metropolitan Opera (Not sure how that fits in with noshing), then ended the evening with pizza and beer.

The Tourist Trapper watched the ice skaters at Rockefeller Center, walked to Macy's for some bargain-hunting, took the Duck Tour after several false starts due to fog, ducked into St. Patrick's Cathedral, watched the SonicVision show at the Hayden Planetarium and walked through Central Park. TT probably did the fewest number of things that I'd be interested in. I'm not really big on planetariums or Duck Tours. I did take a Circle Line cruise once around Manhattan, and that was enough.

The Culture Hound started off at the Rubin Museum of Art, (I've got to admit, that's a new one on me), did some antiques shopping in Chelsea, ate Italian comfort food at Cascina, on Ninth Avenue, went to see In the Heights at the Richard Rodgers Theatre, then topped off the evening with a performance at the Algonquin Hotel's Oak Room by a singer named Maude Maggart.

(Ok, this is more than a little weird. Culture Hound must have been tailing me. In March, I ate dinner at Cascina before going to see In the Heights, and afterward went to the Oak Room, for a concert by the talented and suave Scotsman Euan Morton).

The Family Guy started out at the Guggenheim Museum, followed by a trip to Kidfresh (described by the writer as perhaps the world's only grocery store for kids) for a free-range chicken sandwich in the shape of a teddy bear, stopped at the Children's Museum of Arts, and took a trip to Dylan's Candy Bar. The next day included visits to the Museum of American Finance (which sounds pretty interesting to me) and of course, the obligatory stop at Central Park.

I guess, like most people, I'm probably a combination of all these travelers - they all picked things I'd like to try. Actually, I think these divisions are kind of fluid. I mean, we've all gotta eat. Everyone likes Central Park. And who doesn't want to eat candy or go see a Broadway show?

Up in the air, nothing to read

I hardly ever fly anymore, but this column in the San Francisco Chronicle resonated with me. John Flinn, the paper's travel editor, wrote about being stuck on a 16-hour flight from Milan, Italy, without his iPod, with a video screen that conked out before takeoff, and with nothing, absolutely nothing, to read.

(He said there was nothing in the English-language section of the Milan airport bookstore except Danielle Steel and John Grisham. I don't know why Flinn didn't pick up some Grisham, he's a perfectly entertaining writer of suspenseful legal thrillers. And in an emergency, Danielle Steel's not that bad. Not that I'd know from firsthand reading experience, of course).

Flinn describes rummaging around in his bag for an Ambien to help him sleep, but he'd taken the last one in Italy. The only thing that worked on the video screen was the route map, so he fixated on that for awhile. At one point, his wife gets up to use the bathroom and he "dived for her paperback like a starving man going for a deep-dish pizza. I'd barely read two pages, though, before she returned and wrestled her book from me."

He also offers some tips for what to do if you find yourself in a similar situation: commit your passport to memory, try to figure out what all the fuss is about Sudoku, (I wish he'd tell me.) study the Skymall catalog, turn to the route map in the back of the in-flight magazine and memorize the names of all of the "stan" countries.

Some of the comments on the column were pretty good. One person suggested he could have used the time to write haiku, another recommended traveling with a pair of knitting needles and yarn to knit a pair of socks. (Although I bet you can't bring knitting needles on a plane anymore).

A couple of people said that they always travel with a journal or something else to write in. Having paper and pen handy certainly saved me from more than an hour of boredom last spring when I was in New York, by myself, standing in line to take the ferry to Ellis Island. I used the time to jot down some notes about Curtains, the show I'd seen the night before.

One holiday weekend, I didn't plan well and the only thing I had available was a copy of The Thin Red Line, a novel by James Jones about a fictional World War II battle between American and Japanese troops on Guadalcanal. (Jones is best known as the author of From Here to Eternity.) I don't really like war novels, so I'm not even sure why I took it out of the library. All I remember is, I read it pretty quickly and thought it was just okay. I probably finished it on Sunday, and the library was closed until Tuesday, and I couldn't get to someplace to buy a book.

And then there are practical considerations of deciding which book to bring. Is the book so short that you'll finish it too quickly? Is it too heavy to carry? The worst thing is being stuck with very big book you absolutely hate. This did happen to me once. In my case, it was a behemoth of a novel by David Foster Wallace called Infinite Jest. And it truly is a behemoth - 1,088 pages long. And it has footnotes!

Don't ask what possessed me to read it. I know it's kind of a cult classic, but its appeal is way beyond me. The plot centers around a film, Infinite Jest, that is so addictively entertaining, anyone who watches it loses all interest in doing anything else but viewing it repeatedly. I doggedly kept reading, hoping I'd find out what this mysterious movie was about. Well, the joke was on me. I never found the answer, but I did learn quite a bit about the competitive world of junior tennis, a key subplot of the novel.

Running out of reading material used to be a big fear of mine, but I've learned to have a book with me at all times, in case I'm stuck waiting in a doctor's office or who knows where. And now that I have an iPod filled with audiobooks, podcasts and music, the chances of finding myself in a situation like Mr. Flinn's are pretty slim. Still, I could relate. I've been there.

Reaching for the stars

I was pretty excited when I checked my stat counter the other night and saw this query: Never seen a Broadway show which one should I see?

Wow, no one's ever asked me that question before! Usually, it's more along the lines of: You're going back again? You're seeing how many shows this time? Haven't you already seen everything by now? The tickets cost how much?

To be fair, I also get some supportive, genuinely interested questions from people. They're excited for me and want to know what I'm seeing and who's in it. Even if they haven't heard of the actors, sometimes they've heard of the shows. South Pacific, for example, elicited lots of spontaneous breaking into song.

Unfortunately, there's no one-size-fits-all answer to the question of which Broadway show you should see. (Or maybe fortunately, because when I think about it, there really are a lot of choices, more than most people would think. And choice is good.)

It depends on whether you want to see a play or a musical, (Ok, when people say a Broadway show, I guess we can pretty much assume they mean a musical.) whether you want to laugh or cry, - or both - whether you're in the mood for a classic or something more contemporary, whether you want something more traditional or you're willing to take a chance on a more adventurous experience, whether you're looking for Disney-type entertainment or a more adult-themed show.

One thing that Steve on Broadway, Vance at Tapeworthy and Chris at Everything I Know I Learned from Musicals do so well is give a clear indication of which shows they think are worthwhile. Steve rates everything he sees from zero to four stars, Vance uses a five-star ranking and Chris has a list of musicals you should see. In fact, this week Chris posted lists of the 100 greatest musicals of all time, the 100 runners-up, and his least-favorite shows, with links to information about all of them. It's a tremendous resource and I know I'll be going back to it frequently.

As for me, until this week, I didn't even have a list on my blog of all the shows that I've seen. Well, I put up the list, but short of reading through all of them, there's no quick and easy way to tell what I liked and what I didn't like. So, in an effort to provide a clear picture, I'm assigning star ratings to everything I've seen since January 2007.

When I'd only been to a couple of shows, it was hard to look at them objectively. I loved everything. But now that 18 months of fairly regular theatergoing have gone by, it's easier to put things in perspective. I still love mostly everything, and there's nothing I regret seeing. But I have to admit, I don't love LoveMusik as much as I thought I did. Although as Chris is always telling his Boston Conservatory students, you have to know what the bad stuff looks like to truly appreciate the good stuff. (Believe me, Chris, I'm learning!)

I've only been a professional critic once in my life. When I worked for a newspaper in Connecticut many years ago, I wrote a review of The Big Chill. After a colleague of mine read it, he had two observations: He couldn't figure out whether or not I actually liked the movie, and he said I gave away all of the best lines. I still struggle with those things: Have I said forcefully and clearly enough how much I liked the show? Have I given away too much of the plot or revealed the funniest lines?

I'm trying to reserve 4 stars for my absolute best experiences, 3.5 stars for shows that I loved but thought fell short of perfection, 3 stars for fun or thought-provoking shows that I enjoyed very much and would recommend, 2.5 stars for shows that provided some laughs or a performance or two I enjoyed, but overall, I simply felt kind of "blah" about them afterward, and 2 stars for shows that didn't engage me very much at all and were largely forgettable. Anything below that is reserved for major disappointments.

Assigning stars isn't an easy thing to do, but I want to give the shows I truly adored a little extra special love. Plus, it's kind of interesting to see, after 18 months, where I rank things. I could go on and on about what went into my decisions, but it's not exactly a scientific thing - it's totally my biased opinion at this point in time.

On another day, I might have done things differently. I'll try not to go back and change the stars when no one's looking, but I can't make any promises.

Getting into that New York state of mind

A week from today I'll be back in New York City, and as if they knew, I got an e-mail from HBO this morning telling me about an interactive map of Manhattan that features 50 locations from Sex and the City.

You can see where Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda lived, shopped, ate, partied, enjoyed some romantic evenings and had some rather awkward moments that they'd probably rather forget.

If you want to see where Carrie made her unfortunate debut as a runway model, for example, you click on a photo from Episode 50, "The Real Me," and the spot where it was filmed is highlighted on the map.

Remember, the movie opens May 30, so it's time to brush up.