Chicago is one of The Phantom’s favorite shows. (Let’s allow that to sink in for a moment.)
The Theater Company may not have appreciated their peril, but they were facing a tough audience in The Phantom. (This is always true, of course.) [Constantly wise and always astute, The Phantom brings dispassion and discernment to all of his audience experiences.] {But in this case he saw the movie, he bought the soundtrack, and he paid big bucks for his OPAS ticket.} <He likes the show.> But don’t fret, gentle reader. The Phantom did enjoy this particular production. Everybody can relax. Stop reading now if you wish. Your visit to this humble site has already been noted by the little counter that keeps track of these things. All 60,000+ of them.
For the rest of you, soldier on. The Phantom promises this won’t be too painful. It might even be pleasant. That will depend on whether you, too, have taste and discernment.
Drum roll, please, maestro.
Ladies and gentleman, for your opening act, we give you the voluptuous Velma Kelly belting out “All That Jazz.”
The Phantom hasn’t seen this actress on stage in a long time. He is very happy to have her back. Her throaty, yet surprisingly smooth, voice set up our first scene nicely. From the facial expressions of those near The Phantom, trapped in seats near the orchestra, we were also all extremely pleased to have survived the musicians’ desperate effort to get through the overture. They seemed completely overmatched, and gave every indication of having received their scores that very afternoon. We later learned that the group contained several talented individuals—in particular, as soloists, they did nicely later in the show—but they hadn’t spent much time (or so it seemed) working on the difficult bits together.
The accompanying action of the murder of Fred Casely was blocked and choreographed well, and despite the orchestra’s desperation, The Phantom settled in for a pleasant afternoon. He was pleased to see a popular vagabond of the Valley’s community theaters playing the part of Fred, as he had read somewhere (oh, wait, it was on that silly Theater Without Pity blog) [and everyone knows that no sentient being should pay any credence to what he/she/it reads there] that Fred was leaving town. We were all glad that this was not the case because Fred nailed his minor role with all the panache that it deserved but that a lesser actor might have ignored. Like all good supporting players, he refused to steal focus from his leading lady, Roxie Hart.
And now Roxie Hart attempts to use the cacophony coming from the orchestra pit to enhance, rather than destroy, her “Funny Honey” number.
Roxie is another familiar face. And The Phantom wishes to note that he understands why these faces are familiar. It’s because these folks are really good. The Phantom was pleased to see Velma, Roxie and Billy in lead roles again. They have earned their top spots and we acknowledge them. Good for you, familiar faces.
However, despite his regard for these phine talents, The Phantom cannot and shall not shrink from his duty. The advertisers negotiating with The Phantom to take this site global insist that he occasionally tell the truth. And so The Phantom will add the minor quibble that Roxie was skinny. Not just thin. Skinny. Auschwitz skinny. Scary skinny. The Phantom is concerned. Eat something, Roxie. Please. Oh, and one other thing: Roxie’s performance was shrill and brittle. Her strident tones led The Phantom to sneak some of those special painkillers out of his dear mother’s purse. Happy anticipation that was based on this young lady’s wonderful turns in other productions turned, unfortunately, into disappointment as this show wore on. Roxie was, however, tremendous in Chicago’s best scene, “The Press Conference Rag.” The Phantom couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Clap, clap Roxie. (But take note: she didn’t say anything in that scene.)
And now dear audience, marvel at our phine supporting cast!
“Cell Block Tango” was great. Good job, cell block ladies. The Phantom is always amazed by the Hungarian woman and her performance here was no less remarkable. Props go out to this young lady for memorizing her part in a foreign language. It was most appreciated.
Oh, and The Phantom also approved of the sexy lingerie. (As The Phantom has expounded on such matters before, he will simply wipe the drool off his keyboard in this case and continue.)
Presenting Bill Flynn, the completely self-absorbed, king narcissist of the Broadway stage.
Wait. What’s this? Is Billy’s hat too big? No, his hat is resting on his ears! Heavens to Betsy, what has happened to his hair? What would possess him to do that to himself? The Phantom is entirely familiar with the tiresome burdens of handsomeness. The ceaseless attention of throngs of lusty supplicants can be bothersome. But Billy, dude, to shave your head and morph into Fish Flynn? At least the corps kids don’t have a choice. What’s your excuse?
And Bill, The Phantom thinks that you are loaded with talent, he thinks you have one of the best singing voices in the Valley and he reads on his own humble blog (no less) how “hot” you are, but being wise, astute, dispassionate, and discerning, he has to disagree (once again) with some of your acting choices in this production. (Uh, oh.) [Billy has allowed this insignificant, inconsequential {but apparently well-read} blogger to get his dander up before.] <Does The Phantom dare?> /Oh, he do.\ Resolved: Billy’s loud blustering at Roxie when she wanted to fire him was a poor choice for two reasons. First, this otherwise phine actor continues to mistake volume for emotional passion. Can we all pledge, please, to stop yelling at our fellow actors when we wish to appear to be experiencing strong emotion? Mr. Director, will you please instruct your actors to find other ways of showing us what they’re feeling? The Phantom is growing weary of all the yelling that is taking the place of actual acting on the Valley’s stages. Here, Billy’s yelling was misplaced and noisome. The Phantom’s second small quibble is that the yelling also implied a romantic concern for Roxie that was inappropriate for the character. Indifference towards the hapless Roxie was the correct emotion. Billy needed to care not at all for Roxie and her situation because Billy’s only true love is Billy. Just Billy. Period.
Nevertheless, dear phans, watch in amazement as some of the actors nail their parts!
Conversely, the award for “truest to her character” goes to Madam Morton, who provided us wonderful singing and terrific acting. The Phantom has nothing but claps for this performance—no quibbles here—and the number “Class” that the Madam shared with Velma was the best scene in the show.
For your viewing pleasure: the Most Sympathetic Character ever.
Even The Phantom’s tiny, crusty (but discerning) heart goes out to Amos. Every time he hears “Mr. Cellophane,” he feels a miniscule tug. Who couldn’t feel sorry for the hapless and hopeless Amos Hart? He’s like a Labrador that gets the milk bone yanked out of reach time and again. This young Amos did a fine job with the role, despite the reprise of the male strip act which, instead of being funny, was a little painful to watch. The Phantom also worried that Amos was doing a “voice” that was entirely unnecessary. Amos didn’t need to do an accent. He would have been stronger without it.
Ladies and Gentlemen, give it up for Velma one more time in her own paragraph.
She was perfect. Sexy, and rough, just the way The Phantom likes his Velmas. We liked Velma. More Velma, please.
And now an act of incredible daring and death-defying thrills.
Costuming. (Are you phaithful phans surprised?)
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, the costumes in this production took traditional Fosse-esque black and white and turned 180 degrees to fill the stage with color in several scenes. The Phantom is a traditional sort of fellow, and he was prepared to jump all over this choice with the wrath of a thousand jungle queens. Color don’t go with Fosse and Chicago! But The Phantom is always fair as well as discerning, and gol ‘dern it, it worked. The lusciously red chorus of beautiful babelicious babes was wonderful. The circus performers in “Razzle Dazzle” were a visual feast. (Ok, a visual square meal. But delicious, anyway. )
The final scene of our larcenous ladies in their vaudeville show sputtered instead of sizzled, but The Phantom is sure they were tired. He was. It was a looooong show, but overall, the audience had a good time.
Other than that, it was great.
The Phantom
Posted in The Theater Company
Good news: StageCenter produced another show worth seeing in Plaza Suite. StageCenter’s prior show, Talk Radio, had been a rousing success, but it had been a variable year for the Valley’s oldest community theater. The Phantom, ever the cautious sage, wondered if Radio was a fluke. Had StageCenter turned a corner? Were they on their way back up? They hedged their bets by staging a solid, time-tested, award-winning Neil Simon play — but then they didn’t seem to tell anybody about it. The local newspaper was evidently unaware that the show existed—either that or they’re carrying a grudge against the SC folks—so whoever’s handling publicity over there again dropped the ball. Nevertheless, a decent number of patrons showed up the night The Phantom dropped by, and we all found ourselves watching a three-act trio of mini-plays. (Must The Phantom now do three reviews?) [Yes and no.] {And off we go.}
Plaza Suite is a look at the lives of three couples who occupy the same room (on different occasions) at the famous Plaza Hotel in New York. It’s the late 1960s, and the lights go up on a gilded Motel 8-ish setting, complete with bar! Were this play 100% accurate, all the characters would have taken full advantage of the bar and they would have been smoking while doing so. Those were the days. The Phantom is nostalgic about his nicotine-and-alcohol-fueled past. He thinks, nay, he knows that those grownup habits made him irresistibly attractive to the ladies back when he was 16. Ah, misspent youth! Now, being a tad wiser, The Phantom still enjoys the occasional Marlboro Light, but he vows to quit every night.
In the first act, we met Karen and Sam Nash, a suburban couple staying at the Plaza because their home is being painted. Karen, an endearing, ditzy sort, was trying to rekindle some fire in their relationship by staying in the same suite they had stayed in 23 (or 24?) years earlier on their wedding night. The self-absorbed, vainglorious Mr. Nash had the kind of disregard for his flighty spouse that comes from forbearance and familiarity, and so The Phantom (who, as you will recall, has been carefully reading StageCenter programs ever since he unwittingly stumbled through that warp in the space-time continuum that led him to experience the alternate reality known as La Turista without adequate supplies of food, water, or clues) [you’ll note, however, that despite that challenging experience, he has stared destiny and fate in the face and returned to StageCenter for subsequent shows] {what a guy The Phantom is} <really, he’s indomitable> /where were we? Oh, right\ was intrigued and somewhat amused to find that Karen and Sam are actually married to each other in real life. Sam was a cheating chauvinist who either ignored or belittled his spouse. Were these people acting? Generous and charitable, The Phantom wants to believe that they were perfectly nice people, but they seemed, shall we say, perhaps too comfortable in their roles. There was real chemistry between them, and much of it was caustic.
The Phantom hadn’t seen this couple before, but he enjoyed their banter and authentic (?) performances, and he looks forward to seeing if they can play roles that fall further out of their comfort zone. Karen rushed some of her lines, but she let her world fall apart quite effectively without becoming screechy. Sam left us with a semblance of sympathy as he did seem to have some genuine affection for his soon-to-be-estranged wife.
The Phantom also enjoyed the luscious Miss McCormack, the object of Sam’s affection, in spite of her clipped delivery. He flashed back to a very profitable prior life (The Phantom has been reincarnated several times) [once, with surprising success, as a horned frog] when he saw her banana-hued outfit, complete with go-go boots. She was a babe and The Phantom hopes to see her again. Overall, the act left The Phantom with a lump in his throat—its story was not a happy one—and he eagerly drowned his sorrows with the adult privations available at the SC concession stand. He hoped for something lighter in the acts to follow. This was Neil Simon, after all.
Act Two introduced us to Jesse Kiplinger, a quasi-slimy playa, an ex-New Jersey native who has made it big in Hollywood. He was in New York for business, but his mind was set on re-seducing his high-school sweetheart, Muriel Tate, a middle-aged hausfrau from Tenafly. She had stars in her eyes and a bottomless appetite for Hollywood news, and we all knew she’d succumb to Jesse’s charms (if that word can be said to apply here) because she seemed to have glitter on her décolletage. (The Phantom, ever the cautious sage, has learned that it is very good news when a date shows up with glitter on her breasts.) [See above, with regard to a profitable prior life.] {Disregard the horned frog. Frogs don’t do glitter. Except by accident.} Our leads here were again well-matched, but with less desirable results. He was lethargic and she stilted. The blocking left us dozing until the end when discussions broke out among the patrons regarding what was in the rafters that had Muriel’s rapt attention as Jesse rocked and scootched her towards the bedroom in a painful (but in better hands, one assumes, a potentially hilarious) seduction march. Perhaps she saw angels, or her lines were scribed on the drops. We have seen Jesse before when he was better. This time, he seemed to stumble his way through his lines. That we were so aware they were “lines” is troubling in itself, but Muriel kept reminding us that these were carefully scripted lines that had little to do with the way she was actually feeling.
But The Phantom hung on, cheered considerably by the realization that Act Two was half the length of Act One. What was in store for Act Three?
A pleasant surprise, to be sure. Awaiting us were two veterans of the community theater stage. Roy Hubley was portrayed by an old workhorse who, once again, did not disappoint. He was very good as the beleaguered father of a bride who has locked herself in the bathroom right before the ceremony. His frustration mounted and loudness ensued, but one of the act’s best bits was his transformation through heroic self-control into a tender, kindly sounding board for his daughter. Paired with Roy was another familiar face as Norma Hubley. She was very fortunate in having such a reliable, talented scene partner, and she parried his Simon-esque quips with a hysteria that served Roy well.
The fact that Norma and Roy were so physically different enhanced the comedic nature of the act. Roy is tall and Norma is not, but they were matched in the yelling department. Roy nailed the facial expressions and his timing was superb. Norma got a wee bit one-note at times but we thoroughly enjoyed her mini-logue about being more than just a mother. Funny stuff, and a credit to the clever writing of Neil Simon.
The Phantom was also charmed by the “cool” groom and the lovely bride.
Norma and Roy were suitably matched but not extraordinarily matched. Would Norma have shined more brightly had she been more evenly matched with a lesser co-star? Perhaps. And this is why The Phantom, a (cautious) sage, continues to ponder the lessons in stage chemistry that were presented us with this production of Plaza Suite.
Here were three plays in one. Three pairings of actors and actresses. Act One a remarkable chemistry undoubtedly gleaned from real life. Act Two: no chemistry but equally poor performances. Act Three: A slight mismatch of skill but still a functional and funny performance. Well done, indeed. Are we to applaud the director for matching these thespians up as well as she did? If she had moved our actors around and paired them differently, would it have been a better play? We don’t think so. Act Two was the weakest, but it still managed to amuse. The play finished strong and on an up-note that left us smiling.
Regardless of these trivial musings about the profundities of casting, this StageCenter production truly represented the “community” of community theater. It provided a pleasant mélange of talent and a pleasant evening of the fine words of Neil Simon admirably performed by a hearty crew of amateur thespians.
StageCenter, keep up the good work. The Phantom looks forward to seeing what you come up with next.
Other than that, it was great.
The Phantom
Posted in StageCenter
The Phantom knows you’re reading this. He knows that his insight and instruction inform and inlighten, and he knows that once you all become Phul-Phledged Phans, we will all be better off. He is not used, however, to his wisdom and truthiness having such immediate effect. Phaithful Phans will recall that not long ago, The Phantom despaired at the state of things at StageCenter. He challenged the venue to get it together, and he exhorted you Phans to support the theater. He threw down the gauntlet. And the StageCenturians picked it up, waved it around and said “We got yer quality theater right here, Phantom! Bring It!” And they were correct. They brung it good, real good, with their latest production, Talk Radio.
This gem of a dramedy was brought to life by a cast and crew that contained some of our local Titans of Community Theater. The Phantom wasn’t quite sure what to expect after he saw some of the advertising—sometimes hyphenation is not our friend: Stunning Anal….-ysis anyone?—but once the lights went down, he couldn’t help admire the better than average set coupled with the much better than average (and we are not talking just SC here, folks) acting.
He loved Sidney Greenberg, the money wizard with his sure-fire path to financial freedom and a seven-figure income. He did not miss that, in his spare time, Sidney went to the track in a car full of rust. Sidney’s rapid-fire patter was perfectly Suze Orman-esque and very timely, given our uncertain fiscal environment.
And then we met our protagonist, our anti-hero, Barry Champlain. This abrasive, obnoxious, drug-and-alcohol-fueled shock jock had us both hating and loving him in 90 short minutes. His patter—and some timely testimonies from other characters—delineated a complex, yet sadly empty, existence. There were tears at the end both onstage and in the audience. The Phantom himself was moved; he recognized, with heartbreaking familiarity, what Barry was feeling. Let’s not go there. Suffice it to say that it’s lonely at the top.
We were also introduced to the single-minded producer, Dan Woodruff, portrayed by yet another theater veteran who has come a long way in his acting. He gave us the best performance we have seen from him yet (and that includes “Four Dogs and a Bone”). Dan did not sink into the wiseguy routine that has plagued this actor in the past (and The Phantom was very grateful).
A fine performance was also offered up by Stu Noonan. Indeed, The Phantom became suspicious that most of these actors weren’t having to dig too deep to find their characters. (Were there more than the average number of ex- and current radio aficionados onstage?) [Are these people really as driven, twisted, impulsive and compulsive {but not repulsive} as they seemed?] <Probably.> /But that’s phine with The Phantom. Anything for art.\
Similarly, the actress who portrayed Linda, Barry’s full-time producer and part-time girlfriend, fit her part beautifully. (Because the program suggested that Linda was a whore, The Phantom wishes to explicitly state that he does not, by any stretch of the imagination, mean to imply that this actress is actually familiar with whoredom, whorishness or whoresombility.) {He is sure that she is a flower of a girl who is possessed of only pure thoughts and good deeds.} [Indeed, The Phantom has routinely dated much worse.] <Though not in this particular county.> Nice job of acting, dear.
But the show was Barry’s to command, and well, goodness. Just when you think that this actor is really, really good, he comes out even better. Shame on you if you missed it, folks. This was a professional quality performance. Gritty and growling. Full of anger and angst. A perfect blend of manic yelling, acerbic humor and sadness. Barry sailed in and out of emotional seas leaving us holding on to our seats for dear life. Clap, clap, Barry. Clap, clap.
And the set itself was a star. It allowed the actors to do precisely what they needed to do without ever getting in their way. So, kudos to the director of this phine piece of theater. The Phantom was delighted and humbled (and how often does that happen?) by its contribution to community theater, in the Valley and elsewhere.
Other than that—well, seriously—it was great.
The Phantom
Posted in StageCenter
Dear The Phantom,
My lovely bride, Abby, and I recently joined the empty-nesters club. Our kids finally flew the coop, and our home was ours—just us—at last. Then my dad died, and my mom came to live with us. She’s a bit of an alcoholic control freak. Well, actually she’s definitely an alcoholic control freak. Then, not to be outdone, my mother-in-law moved in too. Well, we thought wackiness was sure to follow. You know what I mean: wackiness that’s coupled with farcical hilarity and a dash of dramatic soul searching in a backwards version of a coming-of-age, goofy comedy. That’s certainly what I intended.
So, Mr. The Phantom, how come no one was laughing?
Signed,
Boring in Bryan
__________________
Dear Boring,
Conceptually, you are correct. A reasonable person could rightfully expect wacky, good times to be forthcoming from a situation like that one, which had a lot of potential for high quality entertainment. Some of the lines recited by your family were funny, but—and you know that The Phantom has only your best interests (and of course, those of his phans) [and perhaps his conscience] {and common decency} /and maybe even the Universe’s essential balance of order and chaos\ at heart, but the Truth is that the show sucked. Y’all fell well short of the mark. Wide right. No points.
Regretfully,
The Phantom
————————
What, The Phantom asks, has happened to a famed theater venue? This show should have been a hit, but it suffered from some indifferent casting, some lousy acting, and some odd direction.
Let’s start with the acting. It was dicey at best. The Phantom even hesitates to call it some of it acting.
For example, take Sarah. Please. Sarah has apparently been a valued StageCenturian for a long time. The Phantom hears that she is a paragon of loyalty, dedication, truth, generosity of spirit and all things good in this world—backstage. She is evidently a tireless volunteer, a results-oriented stage manager, a faithful friend, and an effective and successful director. She is said to have many wonderful strengths, and of course, StageCenter needs her and dozens more like her. She is extraordinary, and The Phantom applauds and appreciates her. But please, please, please have mercy. The Phantom—and this is important, so he will be brutally honest and direct—has taken to shuddering when he sees her name on the cast list. He’s not kidding. Sarah, dear woman, acting is not one of your many strengths. It has become bizarrely fascinating for the audience, rapt with suspense, to wonder whether you are going to remember your next line or not. Then if the actual words do come to mind, will they be enacted in a manner that seems to pertain, however remotely, to the scene at hand? One never knows, and the ongoing mystery is always an unintended highlight of your shows. But that’s not fun for long. In fact, it’s not actually “fun” at all. It’s dreadful. Sarah, please stop. StageCenter, for heaven’s sake, please stop hanging Sarah out to dry. She deserves better.
By comparison, everyone else in the cast of Red Hot Mamas did alright. Not great, but okay. Unfortunately, their efforts were noticeably hampered by direction and blocking that was amateurish. Interactions between characters dragged along without any snap, and any rhythm the actors started to develop was crushed by the interminable set changes. At least our long stretches sitting in semi-darkness waiting for something to happen were accompanied by an enjoyable soundtrack.
(The careful reader may have noticed by now that, although The Phantom is widely renowned for his discretion and universally admired for his judgment and taste, he risks being indelicate by being quite so direct. However, with great blogging comes great responsibility, so The Phantom shall soldier on. But keep reading, dear Phan, and you may find that The Phantom has some displeasure to drop in your lap too.)
Why didn’t the director utilize the entire stage instead of closing off two-thirds of the space with large black walls? Had he opened up the space and had a bedroom set up stage right and the living room/kitchen set up at stage left, scene changes could have been achieved using lights and not with the tireless crew/smaller-role people doggedly dragging the furniture on and off over and over and over again. Crafty lighting to manage one’s scenes has been used to great success by other theaters. In this show, every time we had to sit through an Atlas-U-Rent-It-U-Move-It scene change, any momentum that had been hard fought and won in the previous scene, any emotion, be it glee or sadness, was beaten to death by the dreary, unending and painful moving and setting up. At one point our devoted backstage crew painstakingly set a complex dinner table for four. Was it worth it? No, no and no. The audience was kind not to revolt, take hostages and then burn the place down when their demands for a little pace were not met.
Overall, this production was a disappointment. And The Phantom is disquieted. He does not review children’s shows, so he did not review Treasure Island, but it was reportedly dreadful. It’s not been a good fall for StageCenter. Indeed, it’s been a mediocre year. Some shows have had excellent casts (consider, despite the anachronistic stupidity of the play itself, La Turista) and some shows have been simply superb (The Compleat Works of Wm. Shakespeare, Abridged), but too often of late StageCenter has had an air of a small club of neighborhood kids puttin’ on a show instead of being a genuine community theater. What’s going on? Is its board dropping the ball? Publicity has been nonexistent, so it’s no surprise that auditions and performances have been poorly attended, and that suggests that the place could be better run.
But The Phantom also worries that you, his Phaithful Phans, aren’t doing your part. Look, folks, NTA is great—really good—but Bryan and College Station need more homegrown theater than just the phine musical phare served up by TTC. What have you done for StageCenter lately? You’re here on this site, so you care about theater in the Valley. (You also love The Phantom himself, you know you do, but let’s not interrupt The Phantom’s instruction.) It is time, The Phantom asserts, for you to feel some personal responsibility for supporting (and perhaps restoring) this venue. Audition for its shows. Go to its shows. And make yourself heard. If you don’t know what’s going on at StageCenter, tell them. If there’s a show you want to do or see, suggest it. This is not the time for passivity, people. Support StageCenter.
Other than that, it can be great.
The Phantom
Posted in StageCenter
Heads or tails? Right or wrong? Black or white? Good or evil? Pepperoni or sausage? Some of these are difficult choices, but The Phantom, ever the decider, is here to help. You’ve learned to count on The Phantom for incisive certainty, and you’ve come to depend on him to instruct you with regard to whether you enjoyed a show or not. And now, faced with the mixed blessing of Jekyll and Hyde, you need him more than ever. He does not shrink from his duty to his phans. As always, he stands tall, taking the unpopular stand when Truth requires such resolution and courage. And in this instance, bold as ever, The Phantom phinds that you were ambivalent about the show.
Yup, The Phantom is certain that he is firmly on the fence about it. It was dark and complex; it was a difficult show, and TTC should be applauded for forging ahead with a show that challenged the sugary, “phamily-oriented,” phare we usually get from this theater company.
Jekyll and Hyde was reminiscent of OPAS’ Sweeney Todd, in a good way. It opened with a crazy guy in a wheelchair, and got gloomier from there. We weren’t going to be warmed by lighthearted music and cute quips before the boy finally gets his girl this time. There was creepy white makeup and black eyes abounding. Bad guys, to be sure. And wenches! (We could tell by the corsets.) [Hmm, corsets. The Phantom phinds that he needs to pause for a moment to recall, fondle, the corsets.*] {Corsets are tricky. They’re like sparkly gift wrapping for babes, and happily, these corsets surrounded babes. Thank goodness.} Indeed, what’s not to like about a comely wench? The Phantom knew that he was going to like this show a great deal.
But then The Phantom phound to his displeasure that, although the lyrics seemed to be rather clever, they were routinely drowned out by a dreadful sound mix that broadcast the orchestra’s keyboard at a volume that far exceeded that of the singers’ voices. TTC’s orchestras have had a storied history, and those stories have not always had happy endings. In this case, however, the group appeared to be quite solid, and every instrument blended well with the cast—except for that blaring keyboard. The Phantom suspects that he would have been less equivocal about this show, applauding more enthusiastically a solid effort, had the actors’ words not resembled cell phones with spotty reception. Can you hear The Phantom now? The lyrics could be routinely heard only during soft passages when the keyboard backed off. Who was in charge here?
Our lead and title character did very well, considering the huge difficulty of his part. The Phantom warmly applauds his ability to pull off the character switch (and we are hopeful that he did not permanently damage his vocal chords with his Hyde voice). Even after a demanding performance, he still managed—with the help of some clever lighting; kudos, light person—to nail the last number, “The Confrontation.” Clap, clap, Dr. Jekyll, and clap, clap, Mr. Hyde. (That’s four claps if you are keeping score. Impressive.) Moreover, despite his antipathy to their frequent misuse, The Phantom forgives Jekyll for his use of a wig (this time; don’t get cocky) because he used it as an essential prop for his character change. We were happily disturbed by his violent persona, and slightly jealous of the grope count he shared with the curvaceous Lucy. Good for you Jekyll/Hyde. Good for you, you lucky dog.
And that brings us to Lucy. She was good in Camelot, and she was good here. Nice set of lungs on that one. We wondered throughout the show whether we would become better acquainted with them at any moment, and The Phantom applauds such tension. But didn’t she remind perceptive patrons of another well-known singer? The Phantom is thinking here of Janice of the Muppet House Band. Oh yes, The Phantom is correct here and you know it.
Janice or Lucy? You be the judge.
Thank goodness for the phine corset. This woman has better-than-average talent as well as good looks. The Phantom correctly criticized her modern, kickin’ motif in Camelot, but he is certainly not one to carry a grudge, and he enjoyed her work here. He looks forward to seeing her again. Come back, Lucy.
The Phantom also understands that Lucy was responsible for the chorus sounding as good as it did. She was also the vocal director, and she had the chorus sounding great. Props to you, chorus, and props to you, vocal director. If only we could have heard your voices better over that %@&* keyboard. The Phantom is still miffed.
Emma Carew was the other love interest, the proper fiancée of Dr. Jekyll. The Phantom is always right, so he’ll say again what he said before: this young lady has grown to be a solid performer. She has a lovely voice, she’s very pretty and her performances are phine. Unfortunately, as reliable as she is, she consistently lacks the “it” factor. She hits all her marks, but she lacks a vivacious presence that connects with the audience. Perhaps it will come. The Phantom was whelmed by her performance as the title character in Cinderella, and he was whelmed by her performance here. He would like to be overwhelmed.
The Phantom’s dear mother also saw the show, and we should be cautious about heeding her observations—she was still loaded on painkillers after her sex change operation—but she questioned the costuming choice for Emma. There was no harm in Lucy staying in her babilicious outfit for the entire show, but did Emma have to stay in the same wedding dress throughout? The Phantom suggested to his dear mother that Lucy had to be the proper yang to Lucy’s flamboyant ying, but Mom continued to assert that we should have found poor Emma a change of clothes somewhere along the way.
The rest of the cast was good with no hits or misses, just as they were supposed to be. There might have been one tiny little problem. The actor who played The Bishop was once again cast in a role that had him scurrilously exploiting women, and once again, it was creepy. Whereas some actors have the It factor, this actor has lately had an Ewww factor. The last thing The Phantom really enjoyed from him was his scene-chewing performance in Grease. Way back then, his white-tuxedoed teen angel entrance was undeniably the best thing to appear on a community stage in a long time. But since then, The Phantom has only been annoyed by this cabbage-patch actor.
Lady Beaconsfield was so loud that she partially compensated for the %@&* keyboard. You can only admire her chutzpah in taking on the monster. Good for her.
It was a big show, with big moments and big numbers. Too bad the keyboard was too big. (Heed The Phantom, TTC people. Don’t make him come down there.) But the show was rather a risky undertaking that TTC took by the horns, and it turned out to be another successful production.
Other than that, it was great.
The Phantom
*Whoops. The Phantom apologizes for the typo. That should be “fondly.”
Posted in The Theater Company
Sunny Furman is smiling down on the Navasota Theater Alliance. NTA closed out its season (when is the NTA Season? Their website makes it seem an amorphous thing) with a remarkably charming production of I Hate Hamlet. The Phantom remarks about its charm because, in truth, being discerning and wise beyond his tender years, The Phantom really does hate Hamlet. (No, really, he does. And he is not about to bore his phaithful phans with needless justification.) [Indeed, there’s no need to explain. It’s self-evident.] {He won’t interrupt this phine review complaining about a four-hour slog through heavy, angst-ridden language.} <And there’s certainly no need to note the organizational difficulty involved in tracking the dysfunctions and disturbidness of all the crazy characters.> /No, The Phantom, as well-adjusted as ever, eschews eccentricity.\ %Except, perhaps, the excessive use of parenthetical observations% (And then everyone dies, including that old guy two rows up and seven seats over—dead of boredom! No, The Phantom does not need to tell his readers that he hates Hamlet.) ^But where were we? Oh, right^ So with trepidation, The Phantom made his way south to Navasota. But as is often the case with the NTA, he was amply rewarded by the cleverness of the script, the clever deftness of the set, subtle and not-so-subtle costuming (such as the now-infamous Barrymore tights) and the notch-above-really-good acting in this community theater production.
Right away we are introduced to Andrew Rally, TV doctor, heartthrob and stage-actor wannabe. He’s brand new to New York with his pockets full of Hollywood cash, a ditzy girlfriend, an aging agent and a Long Island Iced realtor. All these forces combine to land Andrew in John Barrymore’s old apartment with an undeserved lead role in Summer Shakespeare’s Hamlet. An impromptu séance conjures up the ghost of Barrymore, who is determined to coach our hapless hero to be a heralded Hamlet, and hilarity ensues.
Andrew was delightfully portrayed by an actor who, to everyone’s benefit, is now a familiar face on the Valley’s stages. We are continually delighted by the range of this natural actor, who fills diverse roles with seemingly effortless grace. Comedy or drama, contemporary or classic, this young man seamlessly fits in. And we are glad he does. Thank you, Andrew. Clap, clap and a third (nearly unprecedented) clap. Your comedic timing is spot on. The Phantom does need to note that when your characters are intimidated or overwhelmed, you employ a nervous tic and a second of stuttering that we have seen in too many roles, and it’s becoming an annoyance. It’s a small thing, however, and it subtracts little from the overall excellence of your performance. The Phantom, ever magnanimous, is willing to consider it your signature. So be it. Very good job indeed, and we hope to see you again soon.
John Barrymore was another familiar face and this actor seemed to fit this part to a tee. He was funny, over-the-top and raucous, and The Phantom was greatly entertained. The Phantom’s dear mother also saw the show, and she was much impressed with John’s tights, but her judgment has been suspect since her alien abduction. John’s real-life wife is said to have claimed that the protuberance was no prop, but that’s preposterous, one presumes.
What’s more, this show hit the trifecta. Our third male actor also nailed his role, providing all the bombast and bluster the juicy part deserved. Gary Peter Lefkowitz, Hollywood producer/agent/schmoozer extraordinaire, was hilarious. The Phantom has found this actor to be a bit too bold (and loud) in other shows, but this time his style fit the part. His accent, body language, timing and delivery were perfect. Clap, clap to you Gary Peter Lefkowitz.
Felicia, the realtor, was funny and bubbly and all over New Yorky. She hit every stereotype, and she produced frequent chuckles, the stray guffaw and even the occasional belly laugh. This actress is consistently good and we look forward to seeing her again.
So far, so great. What’s the catch? Well, very little indeed. A couple of trifling matters. In the larger scheme of things, they’re hardly worth mentioning. Really, move along folks, there’s nothing to see here. The show was a hit. Everyone did a great job. The audience was seriously entertained for almost two hours. Go home. It’s over. He liked it.
Oh, all right. Let us think of something.
[pause]
Lillian Troy. Was she German? Was she English? Pick an accent. Any accent. But do, please, pick just one. Lillian did a serviceable, phine job in her role. She supported nicely, but she did distract a bit with a globe-trotting accent that wandered from dialect to dialect. Yo, people, accents are tough. Practice at home. And don’t do one unless you can get it right. Your audience generally won’t fault you for not doing an accent, but doing one badly will get you noticed in an unfavorable light.
Last and unfortunately least, The Phantom was perplexed by Dierdre. Was the character supposed to be annoying and dull, or was the actor in over her head? Dierdre had us scratching our heads and wondering what could possibly have attracted our intrepid hero to this drab woman in the first place.
These were small matters, however, and they did not diminish The Phantom’s overall enjoyment of this gem of a production.
Other than that, it was great.
The Phantom
Posted in Navasota Theater Alliance
Zzzzzzzzz. Huh? Wha? Oh, sorry, just give The Phantom a chance to wipe the drool from his chin. He seems to have taken a little snooze there. And he fears that TTC’s season-opening production of Cinderella was responsible. We’ve seen a string of hits from TTC, but (and The Phantom recognizes that, as he is about to suggest that this show was perfectly ordinary—no, check that, humdrum—feelings are about to be hurt) [but The Phantom, as phaithful Phans will attest, wishes no one ill will] {the problem, of course, is that this is a dirty job, but The Phantom has to do it} <okay, but why? Why must The Phantom proceed?> /Oh, that’s easy. Because it’s his blog, that’s why. The larger, more important question is why you would pay any attention to the rambling opinion of one cranky, albeit exceptionally insightful, theatergoer with some time on his hands\ (but do, please, read on) this show was a big miss. It didn’t bomb, but it did fizzle. Dud comes to mind. Slow comes to mind. Sleep comes to mind.
We opened with a crowd scene and a town-crier who belted out “The Prince is having a ball!” The costumes were sumptuous, the singer was strong and the crowd was, well, large. But the crier was hitting some tough high notes, and we had hopes that our leads would be even better than this young man (who was quite good). And maybe that expectation did not serve us well, because it was not to be.
The story was unchanged from the original fairy tale, with the possible exception of the fairy godmother. She promised no special favors or magic and was less a “fairy” godmother and more of a “Life Coach.” It was an interesting twist with a modern, more reasonable flair. But really, what fun is that? The whole point of the tale is that a good, ordinary, plain girl gets magically transported to beautiful with a pretty dress, perfect hair and kick-ass shoes, meets a prince and in a few short hours has formed a bond with him that will sustain them for the rest of their lives. It’s the stuff that has fueled the deeply disturbed fantasies of little girls around the globe. Our fairy godmother had all kinds of opportunities for a clever and delightful performance but she missed the mark with her unremarkable portrayal. (The Phantom notes that there were mouses that became mighty steeds, so perhaps he is mistaken about the scene’s intent. But if there was supposed to be magic, the scene certainly wasn’t magical.)
Our Cinderella did a very solid job with her part. The Phantom seems to remember that this young lady was once a young lass. Time flies. She has matured nicely and routinely gives us high-quality performances, and this show was no exception. She has a lovely voice. She was a sweet contrast of innocence and naiveté to her stepmother and stepsisters. She was rather bland, though—we didn’t see enough ebullience and energy—and that’s one of the reasons there was no electricity between her and the prince.
And that was a big problem. The Phantom is pretty sure that the audience is supposed to be interested in whether or not Cindy gets her man. And The Phantom is certain that their brief courtship is supposed to have some spark. A nap is not supposed to be on the audience’s agenda.
So what about the prince? He gave a nice performance—nice and safe. His voice was a bit shaky at times but he held his own. Considering his garb–the secondhand clothes of his sexier alter ego, Arthur of Camelot–he did well. Or alright. It was okay. Whatever. * yawn *
The chorus did fine. The dancing? C minus. We have seen creative and entertaining dancing come out of TTC in recent months, but this was Miss Cratchmore’s Fall Fun-tacular Adult Beginning Dance Recital and Bake Sale. Without the cookies. Ho Hum.
So let’s see. What else? Did anything really interesting happen in this show? Oh yeah, one of the stepsisters was great. In fact, she stole the show. You know which one. She was funny. She has been funny before and she’ll undoubtedly be funny again. Thank you stepsister, you kept The Phantom afloat. The stepmom and the other sister were fine, and the best number of the show was clearly the “Stepsister’s Lament.” The other numbers were plagued with a tempo that seemed overly slow. They were plodding and we were nodding (off).
The Phantom was so underwhelmed that he didn’t care one way or the other about the excessive aisle-stuffing by the cast. The Phantom understands that this director has a signature bit of utilizing the aisles to expand his stage, but this time for one long stretch he effectively blocked the view of all the patrons who had made the bad choice of not sitting in the center section. The Phantom prefers center-center so as to get the best view of the pageant-like feel of the ramp to nowhere. And it was cozy, snug in the center, surrounded by the cast on all sides. So perhaps, shame on you, you stupid side-aisle-sitting patrons. Arrive earlier so you can nab the best seats. The director can do whatever he wants. *yawn*
So there was nothing to get too excited about. The show meandered along. The air conditioning was working. It was nice to be sitting down. But there is one more wee tiny detail. A mere quibble. A last trivial complaint. The king and queen were awful. There. There’s the 800-lb. gorilla sneaking up on The Phantom’s left. The Phantom, ever a tolerant man, supposes that our King is the nicest of fellows. But c’mon, dude, you are killing us. Any more swishing and swaying, and we’re going to have to report you to SALADA (The Stereotype Abuse League of American Dramatic Arts). Our queen sang well but she worked each spoken line to death. She had all the panache of Catherine O’Hara as Sheila Albertson in Waiting for Guffman. Combined, the king and queen were painful.
So all in all, it was a slow, somnambulistic start to the TTC season. The Phantom is discouraged, but not down. There’s value in a nice nap.
Other than that, it was great.
The Phantom
Posted in The Theater Company
The Phantom has been a phan of this cleverly written play by Larry Shue for years. And there are evidently other Foreigner phans in the Valley–including our esteemed director, who has directed the show more than once. The Phantom strives constantly to expand his own horizons, and he thinks no one should get into a rut. Still, if future productions of the show are as good as this one, The Phantom provides his permission to bring it back every other year, if you wish. We won’t mind a bit.
As the discerning patron has come to expect, the NTA set was crafted to perfection, replete with trap door and clever props. Props to you, clever props people. The complex set was an integral part of the play, and The Phantom admired it—though he did feel a touch of paranoia when the only viable exit from the theater became the only logical entrance to the set. But let’s not dwell on petty issues of architecture. Let’s consider bigger questions. We never see the actors using the restroom facilities during intermission; are there others in the theater? And that trap door: Did it go anywhere? If so, where?
Clearly, The Phantom is stalling. He has both good news and bad news regarding the efforts of our cast, and he hesitates to begin, lest feelings be hurt. (Indeed, have you noticed the recent reticence with which The Phantom approaches the mild moments of helpful instruction that make his judgments so insightful and wise? He is obviously reluctant to cause anyone distress.) [To be sure, it is plain by now that The Phantom possesses rarefied standards of ethical propriety.] {Sure enough, when the Valley thinks of Fair Play and Truth, it thinks of The Phantom.} <And he’s humble, too. Don’t forget the huge humility.> /Good thing, too. Can you imagine all this power to intrigue and entertain in the hands of someone with less class and taste?\ (It would be unthinkable, if we could actually remember what we were talking about. Oh, right:)
NTA did a fine job with this gem of a play. Froggy LeSeur did not disappoint. His accent was excellent, an accomplishment for which we are grateful. The Phantom feels about badly performed accents the way he feels about wigs: If it can’t be done right, don’t do it at all. But Froggy was good, buoyant and animated. Good job. And Charlie did a phine job as the beleaguered “foreigner.” He launched into the Shakespearean prose late in the play with just the right amount of contrast to bolster our amusement and keep the play a rollickin’ good time. Very nice performances, gentlemen.
Everybody loved Opal and everybody loved Betty too. She was sweet, infinitely likeable and just right. This actress’s success with pleasant parts leaves The Phantom—ever a prescient person—wondering what she could do with a character that wasn’t so affable and slightly naive. Can she play mean? Manipulative? Cruel, even? We hope we get to find out, because, so far, she has been rock solid.
Let’s now pause in our praise. Segue here to the Reverend David Marshall Lee. The Phantom was intrigued to find himself mentioned in this actor’s bio in the program. Thanks for the shout-out, Rev. Lee. But The Phantom can’t be bought by obeisance. (Try saying that five times fast.) Or, to be more precise, one supposes, he can’t be bought so cheaply. The Phantom found, as you’ll recall, your first performance at NTA—in Almost, Maine—to be a wonderful performance. You displayed a depth of character(s) that belied your youth. We happily anticipated delightful future performances. Regrettably, we did not much enjoy your second performance, but The Phantom is not a phan of melodrama, so you get a get-out-of-jail-free card for that one. Here in The Foreigner, we thought you’d be back in your element, but your performance was the weakest of the entire ensemble. What was wrong? The accent, the loud menace, and the over-acting. Instead of coming easily and effortlessly, your performance seemed forced. Rein it in a bit. Tune in and stay in the moment with your scene partner, every time and every performance. Don’t yell; it’s a sign of inexperience. Is it possible that your nerves were keeping you “real” in Almost, Maine, and now that you have logged a few hours on the boards your confidence is getting the better of you? And before you and the inevitable groupies pining over your movie-star good looks get all up in a lather, please note that to be the worst in a company of very good actors is not all too terrible a thing. The Phantom wishes you well in your college career and he looks forward to seeing you on stage again.
Ms. Catherine, the blushing and expectant fiancée, was a familiar face to the community of community performers. She’s usually pretty good and sometimes great, but this time we saw her interpret the role of Catherine as an anxiety-ridden, shrill shrew and a bundle of nerves, mean nerves, that almost got on our last nerve. Ah, here’s the cost of seeing a play several times done by several different companies: One can’t help comparing performances. So The Phantom will backtrack here and thank Catherine for loosening up and becoming considerably more likeable in the second half of the play. A sympathetic Catherine was much more agreeable than a shrill Catherine was.
The Phantom has saved the best for last. The show was absolutely stolen by the delightful performances of Owen and Ellard. Owen, a time-tested community theater fav, had superb timing and a couple of physical bits that sold his part 110%. Moreover, The Phantom was gratified to be spared any glimpse of the goofy facial expression that has dogged this actor—oh, yes, you know the dreaded aspect to which The Phantom refers—particularly because Owen was so funny and so despicable without it. Clap, clap Owen. The Phantom thanks you from the bottom of his tiny heart. Could it be that this community favorite gave his performance such an air of authenticity simply by channeling his inner redneck? Perhaps. This is Texas after all, and we knows our intolerance.
But there was no channeling of inherent dumbness for our Ellard. We have seen this young man a lot lately, and we are now certain that he’s just a damn fine actor. The accent: spot on. The mannerisms: perfect. The way his character reached out to everyone in the audience, now that’s good stuff, ladies and germs. Good stuff. So you combine his skills with the fine performance of Charlie and you had a breakfast scene that was as good as any that The Phantom has seen in several performances of The Foreigner. He is sorry that he only got to see it twice.
So, other than that, it was great.
The Phantom
Posted in Navasota Theater Alliance
The good news for The Phantom—clearly a man of humble means and modest tastes—is that Pajama Game did not tax his moderate talents. Was it loaded with symbolism or double entendres? Did it offer social commentary on the post-war American caste system? Was it a psychological treatise on the division of power between the sexes in the age of the nuclear family?
Nah. It was a cute musical created in the days when writers simply wrote a story around some good songs. The story was simple: Boy meets Girl. Girl denies feelings for Boy. Girl nevertheless has wholesome but lustful feelings for Boy. Girl decides to disregard everything her dead mother taught her or would want her to do. Girl then jumps Boy. (This story line, by the way, was plain to The Phantom, but he acknowledges that it may have been less clear to less discerning patrons.)
The Theater Company’s production of Pajama Game was a game effort with some elements that were worthy of fame and others that were rather lame. The Phantom was glad to see the actor who played Hines return to TTC. This platter-spinning Kool Kat is a familiar, accomplished actor who is unfailingly a delight, and he was entertaining once again. As an added bonus (what would you expect to pay, Ladies and Gentlemen?), Hines performed a tidy little dance number with the sparkling and very funny Mabel. It was lots of fun. But wait, there’s more. The Phantom hopes you kiddies paid attention to what a seasoned actor does when the script calls for “drunk.” The belligerence was there, the loud was there (but only when it needed to be) and simmering anger spiced up the mix. But he did not stagger and bumble and slur every word. Moderation, people. Learn from Hines, and rein it in. So, Hines did a phine job and gets a hearty clap, clap from The Phantom.
Gladys was another veteran who turned in a wonderful performance. Gladys is consistently phine whether she is the lead or a co-star or a member of the chorus. She gives 110% in all of those roles, so she’s a generous actor (and choreographer), and The Phantom is always pleased when she shows up in a show. Supporting actors who steal focus and who are too self-important should study Gladys’s good-natured and selfless support of the shows in which she appears.
We also enjoyed the choreographer’s chops and most of the chorus in the “Racing with the Clock “ number. We had seen the rolling desks before, but this number gave them a fresh new bent.
So phar, so good. The discerning reader of this site (Uh, oh. Note The Phantom’s use of a singular noun. Is there only one person reading these words who is capable of sound judgment?) [Surely not. The Phantom’s phans are a skilled bunch.] {Indeed, even if he wished to distinguish his phaithful phans from ordinary visitors to this humble site—such as those who prefer fake compliments to thoughtful guidance and truth—The Phantom is certainly using the phrase “the discerning reader” in a collective sense that describes most of his flock.} <And even if he is not, consider yourself, gentle reader: You, most assuredly, are the perspicacious person to whom he refers.> /Where were we? Oh, right:\ has undoubtedly noticed that we have yet to mention our leads. There’s a reason. The Phantom, as kindly as the next man, always hesitates before giving voice to the mildest wee criticism.
Let’s take our male lead. Sid looked too young, but he had a mature voice and demeanor that belied his boyish countenance. He also gave us a lovely rendition of the classic song, “Hey There.” Quite gorgeous, actually. But he was either less attentive to or less adept at some other songs, and he fell victim to an ailment that seems to be the curse of the Valley’s community companies: yelling when any sort of passion or intensity is appropriate. People, people, let’s take LOUD out of our repertoire, shall we? If someone (the Director, perhaps?) [Indeed, who else??) {Come on, Director, do us the kindness of keeping your cast under control.} doesn’t get our actors to quit yelling at their hapless audiences, the sound of The Phantom’s eye-rolling may actually begin to drown out the noise onstage.
The Phantom was also disappointed with the (lack of?) direction given our female lead, Babe. She was tough, sassy, tough, strong-willed and tough. And pretty. Quite becoming, actually. She was tough, too. And therein lay the problem. The show was written for the fifties, costumed for the fifties and, fiscally, is all fifties. But here was Babe struttin’ the street-wise, head-bobbing, eyebrow-raising, oh-no-she-dinnit ‘tude of a 2008 tough girl. Secure in his manhood, The Phantom likes tough gals. But Babe was anachronistic. She was also out of place. Babe was a phine actor who sang and danced very well and who was quite easy on the eyes, and we would have liked her very much had her interpretation of her character been more in touch with the context surrounding her. Unfortunately, her manner was distracting. It detracted from, rather than augmented, the play. She was 50 years too modern, and she would have been more convincing and endearing had her behavior not been so oddly mismatched to her time and place. The Phantom wonders why the Director didn’t notice. Help your cast, Director, when they make well-intentioned but wrong-headed choices.
So Hines and Gladys and Mabel were great, and Sid and Babe were able actors with Achilles heels. There were also a couple of other characters who—The Phantom must be unstintingly straightforward here—had us grimacing and gritting our teeth. Endurance was the order of the day. Have faith, children, this scene will surely end sooner or later, and that person will depart.
Take Prez. Please. The character was a cur who was presumably intended to be a laughable philanderer. You know the type: a charming rogue whose dalliances are cute. The actor performing this part sang well, but—and The Phantom is genuinely uncertain where to place this blame—he was not at all amusing or appealing. He was unseemly and unsettling. His ruthless pursuit and exploitation of his subordinates was callous and wholly off-putting. He was a horny little toad. Is the part unredeemable for modern audiences no matter who plays it? Was the actor—who seems to be a cheery sort—just a poor choice for the part? The Phantom is unsure.
The Phantom also suffered when Mr. Hasler stalked the stage with overly loud—again!—blustering in oddly unconvincing efforts to be manly and fierce. He was certainly a sizable fellow, but a greedy taskmaster and titan of industry he was not.
So the principal players were a mixed bag. But a hearty Phantom shout-out goes to the chorus, who did a phine job. “Hernando’s Hideaway” was a hoot. The choreography was delightful, too, except for the decision to arrange one number so that it could build to one of the leads doing—quel suprise!—a running handspring. On occasion, TTC choreographers decide to take advantage of a cast member’s particular talent, such as the aforementioned handspring, but they should resist that temptation when the talent is unique. In this case, before we got to the Featured Moment, we had to endure some dreadful cartwheels and such by people whose talents, shall we say, lay elsewhere. It was too steep a price to pay.
On the whole, the show was another in a string of successes for the Theater Company. The Phantom thoughtfully suggests, however, that TTC strive for as much substance as style. Its productions tend to be opulent, but its characters are sometimes half-baked. The Phantom looks forward to more performances from TTC casts that inspire empathy and compassion in addition to admiration for their clever costuming.
Other than that, it was great.
The Phantom
Posted in The Theater Company
