Shrillago

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

Plaza Sweet and Sour

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