Let's Japan!

Dusting off the cobwebs of this ol' blog to let you know of a slight change in my life.

On Wednesday I leave for Tokyo to perform in Steve Martin's Picasso at the Lapin Agile. I'll be gone for about 2.5 months, living the life in Japan.

And you can follow my exploits on this tumblr: http://talkingbreakfast.tumblr.com

Arigato!

Let's Fantasticks!

I've been lazy about this, but tonight I'm finally gonna take advantage of the 20 at 20 Off-Broadway ticket thing and go see The Fantasticks.

Odd to think that almost exactly 11 years ago, I was in this show. That's really weird.

Over a decade? Where does the time go? Where are the snows of yesteryear? How is September almost over?

On a whim, I pulled out some old production photos, and criminy! As Julie said, "Everyone's so young!"

And you know what they say: You're only young once... and that was it.


Here's me, halfway through putting on my makeup. So skinny! Still wearing white undershirts! And whatever happened to that camera?

In retrospect, I find it very funny that, Cesar Romero-style, I kept my facial hair beneath the whiteface. And no one had any problem with it or told me, "Sorry, you have to shave."


I played The Mute, which is an interesting role... Odd to think that it's one of the most satisfying parts I've ever played.

The whole musical is very satisfying, actually: it's simple and pretty and graceful and is just a harp and a piano and (maybe) some drums, and it's just about a Boy and a Girl who fall in love, which is kind of the essence of all musicals, right?

Also, it was used in the series finale of Cakey!, as shown here (and that's me playing the piano at the end):


Seriously, it's a beautiful song, and a beautiful show.

"Try to Remember"? I always do.

Let's (Not) See The Little Mermaid! (II)

Sunday was the final performance of The Little Mermaid on Broadway, and eff it, I decided I was gonna buy those Standing Room Only tickets and see off Ariel nice and proper.

This is a chronicle of that fateful day.

6:00 a.m. I wake, confused and frightened, as to why my alarm would tell me to get up at such a god-awful hour. Then I remember why and say, "Eff it, I'm going back to bed." Sarah then says something like, "Time to go," and I come to my senses. It's time to go.

6:15-6:45 a.m. It's interesting seeing the few people riding the subway so early on a Sunday morning. A few of them are wearing hospital scrubs. One guy is asleep. We're all tired, and no one seems to have any idea about what's going on.

6:40 a.m. I arrive in Times Square, so empty and peaceful before the tourists wake up. Some deli man is scrubbing down the sidewalk in front of his store, a futile practice I've always found quaint.

6:45 a.m. I arrive at the Lunt-Fontanne Theatre. I'm curious about the number of people that'll be waiting. This IS the final performance after all. Jeff had said he'd gotten there at 7:45, A FULL HOUR LATER, and was third in line. I wonder if I'll be so lucky.

There's just one woman there. I'm second in line.

Over three hours to go.

6:45 - 8:00 a.m. I sit on a very uncomfortable standing pipe (I don't want to sit on the damp concrete). I've brought several library books to pass the time, and read Disappearance Diary, an autobiographical manga of the time Hideo Azuma willingly went homeless/left his life as an artist and became a blue-collar worker/checked into a hotel for alcoholism.

It begins with, "This manga has a positive outlook on life, and so it has been made with as much realism removed as possible," which I find amusing.

8:10 a.m. I begin to text Sarah as a way of chronicling my experience. First text: Now they're saying the box office opens at noon... I'm cold and hungry.

Shit. Noon?

Also, I'm just wearing a t-shirt and shorts and haven't eaten in almost 12 hours.

8:52 a.m. I begin to question why i am doing this. There are six people here. Used to be seven.

9:05 a.m. Someone confirmed that the box office opens at noon.

9:28 a.m. Getting colder. Nine people are here now.

9:41 a.m. Right now i want to march around and sing 'Mammal' by they might be giants.

I can't help it. I'm cold and sitting on the pipe is very uncomfortable. I find doing these weird knee-lifts helps, despite making me look crazy.

9:51 a.m. I am cold!

10:00 a.m. And then, finally, the sun burst forth. Daylight. Such a wondrous thing. Hail Apollo!

The street turned into a beautiful, almost movie-like set, glistening with the morning sun. It was really something.

During this time I read A Few Perfect Hours... and Other Stories From Southeast Asia & Central Europe, and enjoy the final story, about the different attitudes toward death between the Balinese and New Yorkers.

It makes me think of Swiper. I'm glad his spirit has been set free. He had a big spirit - big enough to ride on.

I've been sitting here for over three hours and am losing my grip on reality a little.

10:02 a.m. The theatre speakers begin playing a 30-minute spiel about The Little Mermaid. Mostly song selections. This is a good idea for passing tourists, but a bad idea for people trapped in a non-moving line. Rather than getting me psyched, hearing "Part of Your World" several times makes me not want to see the show. It's just too much. And I usually LOVE "Part of Your World."

10:08 a.m. to 10:18 a.m. I text Bethany and tell her (because I'm a liar) that Sarah plays one of Ariel's sisters. She believes me, and I text her that she also understudies as Sebastian. I think she believes this, too, and when I admit that I'm making this up, she says, "Yeah, I was wondering how she could pull that off..." since Sebastian is traditionally played by a black man.

10:29 a.m. Ten of us. The speaker has repeated its spiel once.

During this time I read some of From Hell. The juxtaposition of this book and my mission amuses me.

10:38 a.m. Thirteen people.

10:40 a.m. Fourteen people.

10:54 a.m. Sixteen... Almost at the limit of twenty or so.

I get a grim delight in thinking of the people who show up for tickets but won't be able to get them because they arrived too late. Sucks to be you, suckers!

10:54 a.m. Starting third time the speakers have played.

Apparently I've lost my mastery of the English language.

11:00 a.m. Sarah shows up with a sandwich and a sweater. I had a feeling she'd do this (since she asked me where I was. I just replied "In front of the theater"), and it's good to have company in the last leg of the journey.

12:00 p.m. The box office opens, and we are told there are no Standing Room Only tickets.

Everyone stands, jaw agape, at the unfairness of this situation. We were told there would be SRO tickets, so we did our part. We waited in line (FOR OVER FIVE HOURS). We braved the cold and the damp and the never-ending speakers. We have our money. We did our duty. We deserve tickets.

They disagree. The only alternative is to pay $121 for regular tickets, but I'd barely be willing to pay $25 to see this (in the words of Jeff) "terdfest of a show." I'm not blowing away a lot of funny money that I could spend at Dragon*Con on a 2.5-hour trainwreck.

Angry and confused, I leave Times Square.

RIP, Ariel.

Let's (Not) See The Little Mermaid!

The Little Mermaid closes on Broadway this Sunday. And yes, I admit, I wanted to see it. It's a nice story, I absolutely love the music, and Ariel's a honey. But even before the dark days of unemployment, this show scored very low on my theatrical priorities, because it's supposed to be sucktastic. But I still wanted to see it, you know?

Then just the other day my friend and fellow Hogwarts alumn Jeff asked if I wanted to go to the box office early one morning and stand in line for Standing Room Only tickets. Naturally, I said yes.

But... I didn't go. FAIL. I was too tired yesterday and overslept my 6 a.m. wake-up call (and, perhaps not coincidentally, had a very strange dream involving Mary Poppins), so screw it, no SRO tickets for me.

As a punishment, I scoured YouTube looking for clips of what I'd be missing.

Turns out, I wouldn't be missing much.

"Under the Sea"


"Poor Unfortunate Souls"


This is such unimaginative staging! And the costumes are like a joke - they're awful. Sebastian and Ursula are great characters (I sort of dream about one day playing Ursula), but you suckify them by making them look like... cheap imitations. Hell, even Shrek put a lot of creativity and fun in their costuming.

Jeff's texts as he watched the show helped confirm my suspicions.
- Holy crap, this is a trainwreck!
- [Ariel's] too skinny. I could see her ribs from the back of the house. She needs to eat some fishsticks.

I don't think it holds a candle to Disney's Hollywood Studio's The Voyage of the Little Mermaid, as you can see here (pardon the poor quality):



Still, though, I should've gotten my lazy ass out of bed and gone to the box office. I might try on Saturday or Sunday, but I fear the weekends might be more crowded and harder to get ahold of SRO tickets.

So there's still the slimmest of slim chances that I'll get to go and be... (sung) part of that world.

Let's Fuerzabruta!

Last night I went to see Fuerzabruta! (for the second time) as part of that Off-Broadway 20 at 20 deal. It's this pretty amazing show that was featured on America's Next Top Model, as shown here in the winning picture of Whitney:


I like Fuerzabruta! a lot, and not just because there's an exclamation mark in the title and my friend Hallie is in it. Sarah describes it as "a show for sensation seekers," and I guess that's close to the mark. It's not a normal show with story and characters or even dialogue, it's more of an experience.

And, for someone whose legs turn to putty over fireworks and roller coasters and parades, Fuerzabruta! is right up my alley. Where else, I ask, can you see people flying and running sideways in a windstorm and underwater while right above you? That last part, especially, was cool - it's just crazy disconcerting for people to be splashing and rolling around just inches above your head.

I love stuff like that. It's inspiring and beautiful and gets me psyched and my writing doesn't do it justice. It's hard to put words to something that is wordless, you know? This, to me, is what EPCOT's Journey Into Imagination should be like, because it very much is a journey into the imagination. Throw in Figment (voiced by Billy Barty, of course), and I'd be in heaven.

My favorite part (as is everybody else's, I'd imagine - that's probably why their catchphrase is "Look up") was definitely the water. Hallie had said to let her know when I'd be coming so she could do one of the cooler parts in the show (I guess they switch around and it's not that set in stone as to who does what), so last night she was swimming.

I guess the four women in it (imagine a clear-bottomed, very shallow swimming pool, right over your head) are supposed to be water nymphs or spirits or just the human representation of the ocean (one thing I like about the show is that it is so open to interpretation). A lot of the time they're playful and having fun and sliding around like dolphins, but then there's a thunderstorm and they get angry and primal and screaming because the sea, as they do NOT teach you at The Seas with Nemo and Friends, can be very dangerous.

But before all that, during happier times, they were right above us, swimming around, and they sort of interacted with the audience a little bit. When Hallie was nearby, I waved, she noticed and recognized me (I wasn't sure she would, since I don't know how visibility is on her end), and we met, Hallie free in the water above, Kirk trapped on land below.

Our palms touched, though we were separated by this thick vinyl of the swimming pool bottom (sort of like the characters in Pushing Daisies), and the audience (according to Sarah) was like, "Whoa..." because clearly we were interacting in a way that was a lot more (hmm, what's the word?) comfortable/familiar/friendly than the rest of the nymphs.

I wish I had a picture of that moment. It was magical. I'm the type of guy that, when my friend Kellie plays Snow White in a Disney parade, she IS Snow White, so it was pretty amazing in that breathtaking moment, before she waved good-bye and swam away, to hold hands with my friend, the water spirit.

The Pun That Started a Round of Applause...

Pam remembered it!

It happened after the fight between King Arthur and the Black Knight (who loses his arms and legs in the process).

A beggar walks by, calling out, "Alms for the poor, alms for the poor."

Then he picks up the fallen arms. Arms for the poor. Wokka wokka!

In retrospect, it's not that hilarious, but the timing was right to bust out the applause.

Spamalot

Last night, in what could be the final theatre-going event of 2008 (or longer, depending on how much I end up tightening the financial belt), Pam and I went to see Monty Python's Spamalot.

It's closing soon, they're offering $20 tickets (visit http://www.BroadwayOffers.com and enter the code SPBAL20), and it's the Year of Yes, so why not?

Plus, we'd seen a lot of downer theatre this year (Equus, All My Sons), so we thought it'd be nice to end the year on an upbeat musical.

The show was all right. I'd rather watch Monty Python and the Holy Grail, obviously, but it was a way to spend the evening. And it had a lot of puns! I love 'em! I'm an idiot! They're one of my favorite things, I find them just punderful.

When King Arthur said, "The grail is a symbol..." and the percussionist in the orchestra hit a cymbal, oh, how I laughed.

During a dance number, when someone carried out a bale of hay and everyone on stage pointed at it and said "Hey!" rhythmically, I hit my knee and elbowed Pam painfully to let her know how much I appreciated that horrible bit of wordplay.

And there's one more, I wish I could remember it, but I just started applauding. And I didn't stop. Pretty soon, the audience picked up on it, and they were applauding their approval for some stupid pun.

I was pretty proud of that moment. If there's one thing I can do, it's incite a crowd to action - I once got everyone in line at Splash Mountain to sing "She'll Be Coming 'Round the Mountain" or some similar song. Oh, and when we landed in Orlando last month, I got the other passengers to applaud. Yeah, I'm a regular John Candy from Planes, Trains and Automobiles.

I kept track of the number of puns in the second act - there were ten. I was curious if any of them would get spontaneous applause that wasn't started by me. No pun in ten did.

That's my show, good night, folks!

Grandma and the F*ck Yous: Last Show Ever!

Tonight is the LAST SHOW EVER by the awesomest riot grrl band to ever come out of Elizabeth College, Grandma and the F*ck Yous. Come see it!

Grandma and the F*ck Yous: Last Show Ever!
A timeless tale of Riot Grrrls, Punk Rock, Love, Violence, Queer Action, Betrayal, Activism, & Hair Dye.
December 3rd, 9:30 PM
$5

WRITTEN BY: Lynn Bixenspan & Betsy Todd
DIRECTED BY: Kirk Damato
FEATURING: Bob Acevedo, Eric Bernat, Lynn Bixenspan, Stan Laikowski, Sarah Nowak, Betsy Todd
LOCATION: UCB Theatre 307 W. 26th Street (@ 8th Ave.)
Call 212-366-9176 or click here for reservations.

Equus? Heck, yes!

Pam and Michael Martin are taking me to see Equus on Thursday as a birthday present, and I'm pretty psyched about it. Actually, I'm always pretty psyched about something, and after the suck-month that was September (Sucktember), I'm glad October is gearing out to be pretty good.

Back in the day, Pam and MM and I used to see all sorts of show's during what is now known as "Broadway's Renaissance." We'd seen Xanadu, Grey Gardens, Frost/Nixon, and now, keeping in the tradition of seeing shows with only one or two words, Equus, which is not only creepy as heck, but features Harry Potter naked (or so I've been told).

I feel that this almost makes up for me not getting to see Hamlet with David Tennant and Patrick Stewart in England, for sadly that trip didn't prove feasible in this time of economic and social uncertainty.

In conclusion, Thursday!

PS: That headline was the best Equus pun/rhyme I could come up with. If you have a better one, please leave it as a comment.