Sheesh!

And now, without further ado, the 2007 Most Remarkable Entrance in a Musicale Comedy goes to the Teen Angel in TTC’s production of Grease! Honestly, seeing the white-tuxedoed “teen angel” careen onto the stage, perilously dangling from a far-too-slender cord, desperately trying (but not quite succeeding) to avoid colliding with the set, was appalling fun. It was gangly. It was dangerous. It was the most perversely entertaining thing that has happened on that stage this year. The Phantom does not encourage actors to risk their very lives for the passing pleasure of their patrons. On the other hand, if they wish to do so, who are we to argue? The Phantom was appreciative.

Yes, The Phantom had a big time at Grease! The first act was so nicely done that he was actually concerned that there would be nothing but sunshine and dewdrops to describe here. That would be an outcome that might be welcomed by the cast, but it would disappoint many of you Phans who – come on, admit it – have gotten greedy, supping at this oasis of veracity, wit and wisdom. You want your incisive snark, and you want it NOW. But The Phantom scoffs at these petty, unbecoming desires because (being among the most moral of men) he always puts honesty first. Granted, The Phantom can be a bit (sweet) cheeky, but his candor and integrity cannot be questioned. And if the first half of Grease! was as fully realized as any show this year, he would tell you that that was the case.

The set was strong with a nicely crafted Rydell High backdrop and a judiciously limited number of set pieces.

The class reunion business was clever, and, as seems to be the case with TTC in the last few months, the supporting cast was staking their claim to the spotlight. Most of them were good fun. But be warned, you budding character actors, it is possible to have too much of a good bit. Don’t overdo it. Thou Shalt Not Steal Focus. (Those of you with long memories will recognize this transgression as the “Wise Effect.” Ironically, it is not wise to think that you – instead of the lead actors who actually have dialogue – are what the audience is supposed to be watching). Keep it mild, have fun, and fit in.

Our compliments to the costumer, who gets better and better with each production. Have we increased our budget, received more help, improved with experience or all of the above? Our only complaint in this area would be the overuse of wigs. This is a pet peeve of The Phantom, who maintains that no wig is better than a wig that is less than perfect. If there is any doubt, even a shred, lose the wig. It’s distracting, and it detracts. Remember, it ain’t jake if it looks fake.

Karaoke Regulars everywhere would have been pleased with the trouble-free rendition of “Summer Nights.” Our two leads were proven workhorses (having appeared in Best Little Whorehouse and Sweet Charity). Their performances were solid and duly noted.

Rizzo was performed by an actress who has trod the TTC boards for years now, and she has probably rightfully earned such a plump role in the spotlight. She had a strong voice and the chronically sour demeanor that the character demands. Just remember, Rizzo, when you’re part of a chorus we’re not supposed to hear you blasting away. You shouldn’t be, but you always are, louder than everyone else. Combine that strong vibralto soprano thing you do with some microphone difficulties and we couldn’t hear the clever lyrics to “Beauty School Dropout,” much to our dismay.

Our favorite Pink Lady was Jan, who was not only adorable but who maintained her character’s nuance without fail for the entire show, never once threatening to overdo it. Jan had a fine chemistry, physically and emotionally, with her Burger Palace Boy, Roger. Well done, you two.

And as is so often the case, all our Pink Ladies were good. Marty and Frenchy were well cast and we liked their performances very much.

The program refers to Danny Zuko’s posse as The Burger Palace Boys, and for consistency, so shall we. Unfortunately, The Burger Palace Boys weren’t that great. Kenickie wasn’t creepy enough, Doody was annoying, and Sonny was just his more obnoxious sidekick. (Sonny, stick to set design. You rocked the house with your “Joseph” set. That’s clearly your strong suit.) Roger was just ok, considerably aided by his romantic co-star, Jan. So they weren’t terrible, but they weren’t great. They drifted between being tepid and lukewarm.

But on the whole, the first act was wonderful, the play a rousing success.

Or so we thought. About a third of the way into the second act, things just seemed to fall apart. The cast slammed on the brakes. The dancing wasn’t tight. The dialogue was halting. The record party was painful, and the whole show suddenly seemed to become one of those promising adolescents who goes wrong, a smart, sweet kid who becomes a lawless slacker, a disappointment who dares you to write him out of the will. You want to disown him, but you’re too nice, and he knows it. He continues to flaunt convention, ignoring propriety and the public’s opinion until he – yes, as shocking as it is – grows up to become The Phantom. (Just kidding. Clearly, it requires uncommon talent, generosity, and love of humanity to be The Phantom. Anyone can see that.)

What were we talking about? Oh, right, towards its end the play staggered along like a death scene that has you yelling, “Just die already.” Audience members were looking around, sharing worried glances with strangers, checking their watches and shrugging their shoulders in perplexity. The obligatory sexist, Sandy-turns-to-the-dark-and-sleazy-side-to-win-her-man scene came with little fanfare and even less surprise. But then perhaps we know this show too well. Will this become a problem in a TTC season full of oldies but goodies? We’ll see.

Nevertheless, all’s well that finally ends. A lively reprise left us smiling and delighted to have attended another successful TTC production.

Other than that, it was great.

The Phantom

Coming to Grips with a Dreadful Reality

Hello, phans. The Phantom recognizes that you thirst for instruction, and he regrets his long silence. He was happily organizing his insights regarding July and August’s august offerings – an excellent selection of shows including Thoroughly Mundane Millie, Moan over Buffalo, and For Dogs Alone – when his world was shattered by the news that another steward of stagecraft, a paragon of poetry, and a scion of symphony – indeed, a man who (in his prime) had nearly as much influence on local Arts as the humble Phantom himself – yes, no less a man than the Council’s leading charmer – was quite possibly a scoundrel and a thief. Could it be true?

Well, of course. As has been documented over and over in these pages, The Phantom is not naïve.

Still, it’s hard to watch. Unlike those of lesser sensitivity and sophistication, The Phantom is no phan of train wrecks. He prefers to look away.

At least we can take away some useful lessons here. This was a man whose sense of self-importance never flagged, even when he was crass and wrong, and The Phantom hopes one day to have the same level of smug self-assurance. The whole sordid affair also reminds the Phantom that it’s rarely a good idea to get your name in the paper.

And speaking of thievery: Thoroughly Mundane Millie was yet another show that was stolen by the supporting actors. Mrs. Meers, Muzzy, Ching and Bun delighted us with every line. Bravo! Brava! The steno tap number was undoubtedly the best tap number ever performed by amateur theater in our memory. And to borrow from the esteemed Mr. Butler: A fine performance was turned in by Millie and Jimmy and the rest of the voluminous cast. (With one exception: on behalf of the most excellent Dorothy Parker’s ghost, I must shake my virtual head in sadness and disgust. Please stop spinning Dorothy, it’s not worth the energy. Let it go.)

Moan Over Buffalo was wacky and wild, putting the fa in farce. We laughed, we cried (from laughter), and we were pleased that we were able to enjoy and admire Howard’s comedic chops without having to hear him sing. NTA is clearly your place, my good man. We also hope that Ms. Roz has been able to peel her dress off by now. We were stirred by the sight of her in a costume that was clearly two sizes too small, but we were concerned over whether or not she could actually breathe in the thing. (Not really. The Phantom is kidding. Please, ladies, wear your garments as tight as you wish. Just be sure to wax first.)

We returned to StageCenter with some trepidation, but For Dogs Alone was fine, especially in comparison to Mr. 2%. Good for you, Stage Center.

So, we’ll strive to pick up the pieces and regain our composure. We need to soldier on. We’re looking forward to Grease! and we’ll look forward to seeing you in the lobby.

The Phantom

Everything Old is New Again

OPAS started it with a first-time-ever televised preview party. We sat at home, broke out a bottle of our best imitation domestic vintage and toasted the season with The Phantom’s clever canine and only true friend, Spam. The hard working folks at OPAS have craftily worked around a major refurbishment of Rudder Auditorium and will be delighting the hometown crowd with The Ten Tenors, Asleep At The Wheel in A Ride With Bob, Movin’ Out, The Producers, Blast! and CHICAGO. True—been there, done that. However—loved them, will go again.

Get more info about these main stage blockbusters, what’s coming to Intimate Gatherings (another Montana Rep play we are most enthusiastic about seeing) and something entirely new and different: OPAS Underground, by going to the website at opas.tamu.edu. Rumor has it that season tix are selling like the proverbial hotcakes so get yours early.

Then right on cue The Theatre Company filled its patrons with food, announced their upcoming season and trolled for sponsors. This one is loaded with repeats but has a healthy dose of never-dones and a mysterious never-heard-of, hence the moniker: Those Oldies but Goodies.

Neither The Phantom nor Spam attended the soireé but the list and ticket info is on the web at the newly spiffed-up website: theatrecompany.com. For those of you anti-clickers they are offering Grease, Funny Girl, A Christmas Carol, Camelot, Merrily We Roll Along, Seven Brides for Seven Brothers and The Pajama Game. Head over to the website and order those tix early. Sure to be another successful season.

StageCenter is rolling out its next production with the reputedly hilarious satire (we love a good satire) Four Dogs and a Bone. Opens August 16 and runs for three weekends. Make a night of it in downtown Bryan. You will eat, drink and be merry. Good time guaranteed.

And last but never least, The Phantom is looking forward to Charles Pitman’s next directorial effort at that little gem The Sunny Furman Theatre in Navasota with Moon Over Buffalo. Ya know it will be a phunny, pharcical, phree-phor-all if Mr. Pitman is involved. It also opens on August 9, but don’t dilly-dally, this comedy only runs two weekends. NTA website has more info at www.nta-stage.org. It’s a short drive and a pleasant, if not guffaw inducing, evening. Don’t be a putz and bypass NTA.

In the fall NTA’s has planned a Donny Wilson directed piece entitled Black Comedy. We know nothing except it opens November 1. Could be dark, could be light, could be a refreshing Pilsner with a slight hoppy overtone. Who knows? The Phantom will check it out. So should you.

Other than that, this next season in the Brazos Valley will be great.

The Phantom

Mr. Two-Percenter

Just when you thought it was safe to go to Community Theater.

Let us start by acknowledging that yes, of course, inarguably, indubitably, and absolutely fer sure, the folks one finds trodding the boards of community theaters are amateurs. On good nights, that’s part of the charm of the whole enterprise. We theatergoers applaud their pluck, we admire their industry and we are often delighted when talents and roles intersect in a felicitous way. We cringe, however, when shows are amateurish. We are unimpressed when too many participants are clearly inexperienced and/or unschooled and the show cries out either for more rehearsal or more authoritative direction.

(A quick legal note: Now that you gentle readers have a sense of where this review may be headed, The Phantom asserts that he is not responsible for any angst that may be inflicted by your decision to read further. Please, if you are phaint of heart, consider a timely departure at this point. This blog is not intended for those with thin skins or bleeding hearts.)

[Wait, maybe it is. Some of the most entertaining comments come from those who wear their allegiances on their sleeves and check their dispassionate good sense at the door. Indeed, if you are related to any of the members of the cast of Mr. 80%, please ignore the disclaimer above and read on. If you actually gave birth to any of the cast, we insist that you plunge ahead. And remember to post a comment the moment you finish reading it through for the first time. Don’t delay. Go with your gut.]

{The Phantom also begs the indulgence of his phaithful Phans for the interruptions above. You didn’t need such instruction, and we all know you ignored it. Still, every now and then, it’s probably a good idea to demonstrate that The Phantom is, after all, a kindly gent with others’ best interests at heart.}

<Or perhaps not.>

Let us continue by reminding you Phans that The Phantom likes StageCenter. He is very pleased with the new venue. He feels that hoisting his ample girth up the stairs after a meal involving three baskets of chips at Los Nortenos provides just enough exercise to restore his honor. He loves the fact that the theater still has a bit of smoky ambiance that reminds him of the days of Big Otis at the 3rd Floor. He is very, very grateful for the air conditioning.

That being said, The Phantom was looking forward to a pleasant evening of ribald yet light comedy theater with the production of Mr. 80%. What he got was a gangly, halting performance overdone by some and underdone by others that made his burritos burn in his belly.

We should have been forewarned when the play started with a diffident and hem-hawing introduction by the director. He seemed to need more practice because he stammered like a preteen asked to speak in front of the whole school, girls and all. We were warned of “adult situations” and portrayals of alternate lifestyles. We should have been warned about the rote deliveries and constant out-of-sync yelling to come. Yo, actors, you know who you are. Or do you?

Our lead, Sharon, was played well by a newcomer to StageCenter. She seemed to have a clue. And that’s a what-to-do-with-herself-on-stage clue. Her character had no clue but that is about the book and not about the performance. So she is off the hook.

Her romantic partner, Sam was ok, we suppose. The character was a straight guy pretending to be a gay guy, but we felt that it was the straight guy part that was difficult for this actor. No chemistry with Sharon, no chemistry at all.

It was Jan that tortured us. At first, his little bit done behind Sam’s back was amusing. But it quickly became old. Real old. Ancient, if not antediluvian. And the swishing and swaying and lisping, oh my. It was tiresome. Insulting, too. It was way too much. And even worse was the screaming, the one-note yelling. It was quite horrible. Ninety minutes of mindless shouting and The Phantom’s burrito was bubbling in a sour stomach. Jan never, ever, not once, did a scene with a partner. He never really listened to what anyone said. When he wasn’t screaming and flipping his limp wrists about, he was looking absolutely bored with the whole thing. Three words for you, Jan: “Acting is reacting.” Three words for you, Phans: “He was awful.”

And why was Patricia, Sharon’s medical resident roommate, such a b*tch? We wanted her to be exhausted and snarky, not mean.

Fortunately the whole affair was saved by the all-too-brief appearances of what could only be called lesser characters, Leslie and Ronnie. If the program is to be believed, this is “Leslie’s” first time on stage and he did very well indeed. Not too much, not too little. And Ronnie is to be applauded for her fine delivery of her monologues. A Cat Therapist. Funny stuff. She made The Phantom smile.

Actually, the funniest bit of the whole play was the printed program which noted (and we hope facetiously) that our lead “loves to take part in intelligent conversation;” Sam is into “heavy drinking;” Patricia only participates in activities beginning with the letter “S;” Jan is hoping for that big break; Leslie likes constructive mockery and Ronnie is blessed to be working in the fabulous world of real estate. Hilarious.

Unfortunately, it was a miscast production that seemed under-rehearsed and amateurishly performed. Not StageCenter’s best night. It was only 2% for us.

Other than that, it was great.

The Phantom

Sweat Equity

The problem with raising the bar is that one has to keep holding it up. The Phantom was not robustly entertained by TTC’s production of Sweet Charity. It wasn’t a bad production, but it also wasn’t The Phantom’s cup of tea.

 

Like the pot-luck supper at the Lion’s Club, this show offered a variety of dishes. Some of them were delightful, full of flavor and prepared to perfection. Other dishes, however, were something like that Jello Surprise salad that Mrs. Higginbotham always brings. You really don’t want a big helpin’ of that lime-related oleaginous mystery. No, ma’am.

 

And that’s how The Phantom felt about this show. It was the pot-luck Wednesday Solstice Supper at the civic center. The opening scenes were a tad bland and awkwardly acted, as if lines were dropped and everyone was trying to catch up. The townspeople were either overdone or underdone, a veritable succotash of characters. The show dawdled on at, shall we say, a tepid pace.

 

The flavor was kicked up a notch during the “Big Spender” routine, perhaps because its familiarity made it a form of comfort food. Who can go wrong with such a great song and a hearty slab of Bob Fosse-style choreography? But even here The Phantom was underwhelmed. Didn’t we do the whole whore thing in Best Little? We really liked the whole whore thing in Best Little. In fact, we loved the whole whore thing in Best Little. But “Big Spender” was reheated leftovers. Yawn. We’re not that much older. Are we already that much more jaded? No, The Phantom resists the absurd notion that he is a spent husk, a pale shadow of his former vigorous self. We think instead that the scene itself was merely lukewarm.

 

It’s true, our Charity was a dimpled cutie who can carry a tune and who had the personality and acting chops to pull it all off. We’ll look forward to second helpings from this young lady somewhere down the road. In this case, however, well, um, perhaps it was the book. Something was missing. Charity was clearly working hard, but she seemed to be impersonating her character, instead of truly inhabiting the role.

 

Some of the servings were sweet. We really liked Vittorio and his girl. He was great. An Italian accent can go as wrong as a clam marinara on a hot day, but he pulled it off. He was charming, believable and likeable. Clap, clap, Vittorio. We also smacked our lips to the tasty set and lighting in the Vittorio apartment scene. Served up just right. Our compliments to the kitchen.

 

And here, too, Charity did a fine job. The meal was acceptable, if you were really hungry, but it was unremarkable. There was enough on our plates, with lots of choreography and another familiar song, “If My Friends Could See Me Now.” Some of the dance sequences went on too long—they would have been better to have had several measures cut—but overall, the dancing was good.

 

But wait, what’s that? The Phantom can actually hear the steam beginning to seep out of the ears of the hardworking cast and crew who, deep in their hearts, would rather be reading pleasant, complimentary lies than the discerning truths always to be found in The Phantom’s tender care. But phrankly, Phans, most of the first half of this show was—prepare yourself, this ain’t gonna be easy, you know how nice, decent people suggest that if you can’t say anything nice, you shouldn’t go to your boss’s house for dinner? Well, The Phantom never shrinks from his duty—dull.

 

But calm yourselves, fellow diners, the pantry wasn’t bare and the Chef was still cooking. Suddenly sliding out of the ennui oven was a wonderful example of talent and chemistry combining to create a deliciously entertaining piece of theatrical pie. “There’s Gotta Be Something Better Than This” jostled The Phantom awake and provided him some genuine nutrition at last. This was a splendid number, performed beautifully by long time favs in the characters of Helene and Nicky. These two had a blending of flavors that was larger than the sum of their parts. It also didn’t hurt that they were both babes. And our lead showed up to add the Cherrity on Top. We really enjoyed this number. Clap, clap and a third clap to round out the trio.

 

Yes, we were no longer thinking wistfully about the other things we might have done with our afternoon. We were next rewarded for our patience with a beautifully crafted elevator scene that was so nicely acted that the audience made a collective yummy sound. It introduced Oscar, the male lead, who (we are very pleased to report) did the claustrophobia bit without making it a bit. We were fully immersed in his misery. Bravo, young Oscar. Well done, but still pink in the middle. A nice bit of cooking. And Charity did so well, seeming for the first time to be a genuine human being, that we are almost apologetic about our previous comments on her behalf. Almost.

 

And then, intermission. Whew, almost an hour-and-a-half at the table. May we excuse ourselves for a moment or two of freshening up before it’s time to start the next round of consumption? Urp.

 

Perhaps after a spicy hot dish one needs a calming sorbet to cleanse the palate? We don’t think that was intended by the “Rhythm of Life” number but that is certainly what was served up. The number was not loud enough, not celebratory enough, not expressing the rocking rhythm of life the author intended, unless that life is from the Sunset Days Assisted Living Center in East North Zulch. The Phantom’s lovely mother, Phrances, has told him stories of the sultry, sinful, soulful Sixties, and these weren’t they. Hippie beads do not a happening make. (Go ask your Grandma, kids.)

 

The “Baby, Dream Your Dream” number was nicely done by Nicky and Helene, who were still babes. It was the icing on the cake for these two. We smell a duet, a pairing, something to put in our favorite recipe file for later.

 

We were later reminded, however, that for all his charm and real talent, Oscar is not much of a singer. We like this fellow, and we think that he may have an actual future in both comedic and dramatic fare. We look forward to seeing him in—gasp, TTC-ers, it’s not treachery or betrayal—nonmusical productions at StageCenter and NTA. But, let’s see, how can we put this gently, The Phantom’s humble existence will not be less complete if he misses another opportunity to hear Oscar sing.

 

Charity had the big, splashy showstopper scene with a back up of sparkly psycho band members that made us think Stephen King might have had a hand in there somewhere. In the middle of the night after the show, The Phantom woke up in a sweat, imagining all those faces with the frozen fake smiles hovering in the dark before him. He was unsettled.

 

In spite of a bittersweet ending, we were sated until next time. And isn’t dark chocolate supposed to be good for you?

 

Other than that, it was great.

The Phantom

Fiddle Dee Dee

The Phantom is perturbed. You phaithful Phans come here for wisdom and discernment that is leavened with generous dashes of sarcastic wit. The Phantom says what everyone thinks – that is, everyone who’s not related to the members of the cast – but he says it better and more cleverly than others can. But how can The Phantom provide his usual snark and devilish repartee when the Theater Company actually pulls off a production that is mostly beyond reproach? Instead of being obviously wise and all-knowing, The Phantom risks being merely Petty in finding faults in a production with heart, style, and—at last!—a competent orchestra.

 

Yes it’s true. We really liked the show. It was a phine effort that made for a thoroughly pleasant evening. Nearly all the performances were strong. The set was neat and tidy and just tangible enough to provide realism without distraction.

 

The blocking was, surprisingly for once, acceptable. The director at TTC continues to send people left, right, out the ramp, and back upstage in a manner that’s often manic. In real life, The Phantom has noticed, people sometimes sit and talk without constantly moving around the room. There were moments in this show, however, that were beautifully staged, and the best of them was the Sabbath Prayer scene. Bravo, and a hearty clap-clap for that piece of blocking poetry. Our favorite scene, however, was the dream sequence, which was absolutely perfect. Even the dancing, which is usually difficult for any volunteer company to master, was quite good. Such strong knees on those boys. Oy.

 

Costuming? Great. We loved the dream sequence costuming. Just loved it.

 

And the orchestra? Really good. Wonderful, in fact. We particularly liked the split personality and evident pleasure our orchestra had in its pre-show and intermission jazz. Unlike some of the players who have shown up for TTC shows, these folks had evidently learned to play their instruments before driving to the theater.

 

Yes, the show was a hit.

 

“Oh, Phantom, you are toying with our affections. You usually put the grit in griticism. Is Mr. Butler hacking this site? Don’t bore us with this favorable review.” Sorry, dear Phans, but it was good, and, as always, The Phantom must speak the truth. As painful as it might be. Even at the risk of disappointing his readers.

 

Okay, okay, there are a few points The Phantom must make. Inevitably, some of the performances were better than others. The daughters were all wonderful. Our revolutionary didn’t sing as well as some of the others, but he tried. Motel, the tailor, was goofier and broader than he should have been, but we blame the director for letting the actor play the part that way. (And yes, we know who you are, and it’s ok, you are coming along just fine, SC). (It is okay if we don’t actually say “Sweet Cheeks” but just say “SC” with a knowing wink, isn’t it?)  (We thought so. Thanks, Sweet Cheeks.)  (Oops. Thanks, SC.)

 

Tevye, you were great. Delivery, strong. Accent, just right. Characterization, spot on. If we shut our eyes during your conversations with God, it was a heavenly experience. You have come a long, long way since Paint Your Wagon and [shudder] Oliver! But why would we shut our eyes? Tevye, schweetie, you are still screwing up your face in the most unusual and goofy way. We think you don’t even realize you are doing it. You lift your chin, your lip curls up and your nose follows, as you crinkle up your eyes looking down your nose in an impenetrable squint. It’s weird. It’s distracting. It startles us, and detracts from an otherwise phine performance. Still, there are others who, being regrettably possessed of poorer judgment, seem not to be bothered by this quirk. Your directors evidently haven’t told you to knock it off. So perhaps you can continue to get away with ignoring The Phantom’s pet peeve [shudder again] as you have in the past. We shall continue to come see you, but justice and taste require that we continue to tap you on your virtual shoulder and remind you of this unfortunate habit.

 

Only Yente made us shake our heads and sigh. She had to have been the most Goyish Yente in the history of this show. She was, let’s see, ummm, ahh, awful. She made the cream cheese curdle and the lox go bad. Toss out the stale bagels—no, better yet, toss them at this actress and make her swear to never play outside of her waspish ethnicity again. Stay on the Protestant path, dear, for there is no Judaic sensibility in a single cell of your being. And we believe that Yente needs that sense more than most of the characters in this play.

 

Other than that, it was mechaye [great!]

The Phantom

Glengarry F-ing Ross

The Phantom admits to being impressed. Since being relocated to the Brazos Valley as part of a witness-protection program, he has come to know the area as a bucolic little place where everyone from a potentate to Pharaoh’s right-hand man is a fresh-faced teenager, and theater is phamily phare that’s phull of phun. Then, to The Phantom’s surprise, the Theater Company gives us a whorehouse full of actual babes bumping and grinding in their underwear. Woof. And now StageCenter offers its seamy production of Glengarry Glen Ross. All of a sudden, Phans, we’ve got some bits of real life on stage. You want despair? You want crassness and crudity? You want grimy desperation? There was no need to wait for the week before Christmas at the Post Oak Mall; this production had them all. Oh my, we heard curses that would make you, your mama, and even your martini-swilling mee-maw blush. It reminded The Phantom of his days as an oil worker who frequented a biker bar.

The story was predictable only in its dreariness. It was about four salesmen desperate to sell plots of real estate and willing to do anything—shady and beyond—to make a sale. Why? To keep their f-ing jobs, of course. This office put the diss in dysfunction. There was screaming, lying, manipulating, accusing, plotting—it was almost like being backstage in a community theater—all in dialogue full of exorbitant cursing. The f-word, the c-word, the x-y-z-words, they were all being furled and hurled out like weapons onstage. They pierced each other and the fourth wall, where horrified but fascinated onlookers sat and squirmed uncomfortably beside The Phantom, with only some of them sharing his strong stomach for dark theater and even darker beer. Which, by the way, wasn’t too many people. Tsk, tsk. Where were you, sophisticated theater patrons? C’mon Phans. Have some nerve. Support the theatrical arts. Glengarry Glen Ross was a fine evening for those fascinated with the human condition. We easily slid past the initial shock of dozens, perhaps thousands, of curse words, and quickly slithered into the seedy world of sales depicted onstage.

We met Shelley Levene, once a legendary salesman, who was on the verge of becoming a has-been. If he didn’t get a sale, well, more cursing, and who knows what. More despair, certainly. The director of this production also mastered the role of Levene with such fluster and bluster, such utterly sad yet hopeful desperation, that The Phantom’s empathy barometer went off the chart. As you know, Phans, The Phantom is an extraordinarily sensitive person. He is a soft touch for small animals of any species. But he found Levene to be uncommonly affecting. We were also impressed that Levene would so eagerly (or stupidly?) take on the role of both director and lead actor. Courage? Foolhardiness? An unnatural love of playwright Mamet? Whatever. A man of less mastery, stature and confidence than this actor would never have been able to f-ing pull this off.

How to create theater magic, people? Put Levene onstage in a pas de deux with the acting chops of hotshot salesman Ricky Roma. Roma was mesmerizing. BCS denizens are quite familiar with this actor, and he put it all out there as the cocky dude flaunting the office’s only recent sale. Did he use smarmy tactics to get the sale? You bet. Did he gloat about it to his co-workers? Is the Pope a wild bear in the woods? Did he, in the end, show humanity to his old buddy, Shelley? What are we, f-ing stupid?

Levene and Roma knew they were each one sale away from either a Cadillac or the bread line. They commanded the stage in a give-and-take that only the lionhearted need attempt or watch. Bravo. Their tour de forces were muy simpatico. (Note how The Phantom can be try-lingual.) Thank you, gentlemen, for never phailing The Phantom.

But enough about the two gentle giants. What about the rest of the stellar ensemble cast? The Phantom was also impressed by another verbal dance between the somewhat naïve and entertainingly flustrated George and the criminal-in-training Dave. George was played by an actor The Phantom always trusts to deliver. But here’s some advice to the actor playing Dave: “less is more.” Trust yourself. You have it, so your constant gesturing was distracting and unnecessary. Your hyperactive dialogue with George was snappy and tight, and you two played well together. Be less a caricature and The Phantom will be pleased.

The office was run by a doofus named John. He was appropriately annoying, with even the “bwah-ugh” grunt of a child who doesn’t get his way. He was on the receiving end of much of the cursing, and too dim to even react. Good job, actor. We hope you were not typecast, because we all couldn’t stand you.

Blake was the boss from hell. The Phantom was pleased that this actor, who nailed this role, even resembled Alec Baldwin from the film, with a sharp, useless look. If he was indeed as rich and successful as he bragged, however, he would have worn better shoes. Perhaps Prada (or even Kiwi brand shoe polish?) hasn’t yet come to the Valley.

The detective who makes everyone’s bad day even worse was played well. His arm grabs probably produced real bruises.

The stage setting was appropriate: an office filled with small, utilitarian, metal, postage-stamp size desks designed to deflate worker egos and make them crave a luxury like, say, a cubicle wall. Also impressing The Phantom? Bright yet gloomy lighting. The choice of classic jazz music to set the mood. The guts of the StageCenter board. The opportunity to purchase a beverage and imbibe of it during the performance. The Phantom’s only complaint? His canned, cold drink was canned but not cold.

Other than that, it was great.

OPAS, OPAS, OPAS

It seems that OPAS has been a bunch of busy little beavers these last few weeks. Ballet Hispanico caused quite the Euro-buzz. Recognizing that even his expansive wisdom and acumen have limits, however minor, The Phantom doesn’t review dance or musical concerts. But you can get the dish at the OPAS chat room. After you have satisfied your Phantom Phancy here, surf on over to OPAS Chat.

The Kodo Drummers were a big hit (or so we heard). As one female friend told us, “Naked men drumming. What’s not to love?” Uh, well, we didn’t enjoy it all that much back when we were in the Boy Scouts, although we imagine that some lesser men may be into that sort of thing. We’ll just take your word for it.

However, we were fortunate enough to have a ticket for Aida. It seemed to us that we had just seen this relatively new musical performed by those ambitious folk over at TTC. Could it have already been a year? Where does the time go? But it was like comparing apples and pomegranates. OPAS’s production was a six-truck wonder with a fabulous big-time set, amazing big-time lights and wonderful big-time sound. Touring companies sometimes seem to be the minor leagues of Broadway, talent-wise, but there was nary a soul on that stage whose voice failed to send shivers down one’s spine. Everyone was top-notch. Everyone was good-looking and above average and had a summer place in Lake Wobegon.

Despite being exceptionally quick on the uptake, The Phantom had some difficulty placidly accepting the intentional anachronisms—guards carrying guns in ancient Egypt?—but it didn’t really matter in the end. We got big Broadway-level production values, and although this show is not a personal favorite—is there any music you walk out humming at the end of the show?—it was done so well that The Phantom was completely satisfied by evening’s end. Thank you, OPAS, for continuing to expose this little cow college to such stellar productions.

A few days later, Lost in Yonkers showed up in Rudder Theater, concluding a busy 3 weeks of OPAS shows. Broke and busy, The Phantom had to miss this one-night stand, but he doesn’t need to stand tall for theatrical excellence all by himself. Your turn, phaithful phans: How was the show?

Other than that, we bet it was great.

The Phantom

The Bravest Little Whorehouse in Texas

Gol’ Dern, pardners, that was a damn, uh, I mean darn fine show. The Phantom was actually moved to his feet by the excellence of the thing. And the irony, well, the irony was delicious. Why, what irony could you possibly mean, Phantom, oh Phantom, Mr. Phantom, sir? Well, sit a spell and have a listen to yur ol’ Uncle Phantom. He knows there was discussion about the language in the book. Righteous, church-going, hard-workin’ folk (no Longhorns need apply) were troubled by the blatant and repeated use of the Lord’s name in vain. As well they should be. This is, after all, the premiere Family The-ater in the Brazos Valley. (Do take note here, gentle phan: The Phantom is not mocking TTC in saying this. He agrees with the statement wholeheartedly.) This play has been running somewhere, on stage and on film, since 1978, and everybody knows that it’s chock-full of coarse language which is unsuitable for children. But it’s the Subject Matter that’s Really unsuitable for children. Did no one at TTC notice this? The youth of the Valley is used to coarse language; they hear it routinely at the mall. But they’re not used to good-looking young whores, who are only available around here at… Oops. The Phantom almost said too much. Anyway, it seems a bit silly for the well-meaning folks at TTC to yank out the GDs in the name of propriety but then stage the provocative rest of play intact and full-throttle, with its costuming, dance numbers, and a wide variety of characters that were also “adults only.” Evidently, GDs are bad, but sexed-up teenagers giving it up for $5 and a Coke is good. And there, dear phans is the irony, delicious, delectable, de-wonderful irony.

The show opens up with a set that looked an awful lot like the touring company set that The Phantom saw years ago. And why not? If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. The Phantom loved the set, all red, white and Texas blue, a very economical and clever use of space. The pared-down orchestra (thank the stars above) tucked neatly under the stratospheric upper stage that continues to annoy The Phantom. Alas, his insightful complaints have come to naught, so we humbly recognize that the abominable upper platform is not coming down anytime soon. But we digress. The band is costumed and we get a tidy little Texas twang introduction from the bass playing bandleader. And then there it is, the opening number, “20 Fans.” We are not playing footsie here. They lay it all on the line. The girls are fabulous, every one of them looking dirty, delectable and needy in their lingerie. Bumping and grinding and grooving their little hearts out on stage. The Phantom’s heart swelled at the scene. He’s pretty sure it was his heart. Coulda been something else. But there’s no doubt that we’ve never seen anything this sweet at The Dirty Sock, and Amen to that, brother. The TTC sure didn’t hold back on that number. Thank you, ladies, thank you one and all from the bottom of my, uh, heart.

Next we are introduced to Miss Mona, wonderfully crafted by an actress who should and could be doing this professionally. Acting, I mean. Not the other. I suspect she’d be real good at the other, too, because she completely embraced the part. Uh, no, that was in that dream I had after the show. Mona embraced the role, but not the particular part. (But, then, why does it keep itching?) Again, The Phantom may have said too much. Focus, Phantom. Stick with what’s real. Ok, stay with us here. There’s bound to be confusion but we don’t want to have to spend the whole night clearing this up. She was terrific. More please, sir. Acting, I mean. Oh, never mind.

What a bright spark from “Shy.” This little gal was priceless. There it is, living proof that you can do so much without “doing it.” She didn’t have a bit but her non-movements were exactly what this character needed.

By this time, The Phantom was sold on this production. Who doesn’t like a bawdy romp with actual babes in the house? Still, he was a little disturbed when the cast celebrated Shy’s passage from naïve bumpkin to bona fide slut. A whole bunch of heartfelt GDs would still be more wholesome than that little scenario. Did no one at TTC notice this?

Switch scenes to the studios of our obnoxious protagonist Melvin P. Thorpe. We were glad to see this actor again after his splendid performance in Singin’ in the Rain. He had all the energy and self-righteous self-promotion that was required. The nasally twang added to his caricature but on occasion The Phantom found it an interference that made Thorpe’s dialog hard to understand. We loved Melvin’s back-up group. Phantom-props go out to the talented and hard-working bunch who created the costumes. Yes, we noticed the wholesomer-than-thou khaki with white oxford shirt and Texas bandana on the Melvin singers. We think we even saw a glint sparkle off the toothy grin of one of the Dogettes *Ping!*.

Change of scene again to the Gilbert Café. The actual set change was minor, but we had no trouble making the transition in our mind’s eye. Here we were introduced to the good townspeople including Sheriff Ed Earl, marvelously recreated by an old veteran of Brazos Valley Theater. This actor was such a brilliantly crusty, horn-swaggling, cussing, no-nonsense country good ‘ol boy we can only wonder how much of this performance was acting and how much was genuine character, born and bred. He was that good.

We are also introduced to another pivotal character with Doatsey Mae. This newcomer impressed us with her solo and she had a dry delivery on her lines that we found engaging and nicely done… at first. But we were disappointed in the second act when she continued her droll bit and was as dry as the toast she served to the sheriff. She did nothing to bring out the love triangle that The Phantom—being possessed of uncommon and uncanny insight—knows is supposed to exist between Doatsey Mae, Miss Mona and Ed Earl. This was her opportunity to do a little pine for the clueless leading man that was supposed to set up his similar heedless rejection of Mona later on. So, subtlety was steamrollered by a bit that subtracted something from the show. Did no one at TTC notice this?

The “Aggies” turned in a fine performance and we offer another Yee Haw and a ten-gallon salute to the costumers. We would also like to mention that the choreography and execution of the dance were both surprisingly well done. Naw, shucks, well done is too mild, it was foot-stomping fun!

In Act II we have that wonderful testimony to Texas politics and politicians everywhere, “The Sidestep.” We somehow think that the late, great Molly Ivins may have had a hand in writing this wonderful song, it’s that clever. And even though the Guv had his head stuck in lights for some of the time we were grinning like pigs in s**t, sorry, in clover, throughout. Our only misgiving was that the reporters couldn’t be heard over the crowd and orchestra because the question and answer portion of the song is the cleverest of all. The Governor was so much like our own Honorable Rick Perry that The Phantom double checked his program to make sure that Good Hair wasn’t moonlighting in BCS.

Our story comes to its inevitable conclusion with a terrific goodbye scene between Ed Earl and Miss Mona that proves The Phantom correct once again. When there is chemistry (and it doesn’t have to be overtly sexual) between two leads, it’s a magical click. You wouldn’t accuse either of these actors of being world-class singers (oh, stop it, don’t get huffy, this is a compliment) but they gave such stellar performances that their songs enhanced the story rather than competed with it. It was a joy to hear and watch. And oh, the tension of Mona’s misplaced love for Ed going unrequited, a thing of acting beauty, that was. Take note, TTC. Tune in. Believable casting of solid, if unremarkable, singers who can bring depth and substance to their roles and who act (rather than just sing) the songs is what makes a show a rich experience instead of just a fancy dress recital. We faithful audience members were pleased to see the implausible casting and superficial emotionality of some past shows not recur in this one.

One last note: both of The Phantom’s hearing aids exploded during the first lingerie scene, so he couldn’t hear what was happening on stage when the girls were driven out of town. His hearing’s not that bad, actually, but the Angry Townspeople were right there chanting and yelling in the aisles. In theory, that’s a nice way to block the scene, but their rabble-rousing drowned out the dialog on stage. The Phantom was so engrossed in the story that he is actually sorry that he couldn’t hear the lines. This is not always the case.

Other than that, it was great.

The Phantom

God’s Favorite, Phantom’s Phancy

Navasota Theater Alliance’s latest is a little ditty by Neil Simon, God’s Favorite. It’s a re-telling of that Old Testament feel-good tale of Job. You know the outline: torment, agony, anguish, and a happy ending. If you find overwhelming suffering to be hilarious, you probably voted for Bush both times and this play is for you. Luckily, The Phantom finds personal disaster and skin boils to be a scream. He can take it as well as dish it out, so he enjoyed himself… mostly.

As is usual with NTA, the set was a star. They’ve been outdoing themselves (and everyone else in the Valley) lately coming up with something new, something creative, something amazing. This time, they booted all the patrons out of the theater during intermission for the transformation of the Benjamin home into a burned out shell. This was hard on The Phantom, spending all that time in a room with other people with the lights on. Nevertheless, the wait was worthwhile. The set was completely redone. Good job, hard-working volunteers. Phantom-props all around.

The Phantom’s judicious and discerning reactions to the actual humans onstage were more ambivalent. The proceedings started with instructions to the audience from the director of the show. Evidently, every theater in the Valley now believes that wayward audiences must be told how to behave before being allowed to see a show. In this case, the nice director person explained that we would be asked to leave the theater during intermission, for our own good of course. All perfectly understandable. However, any public appearance in a local theater makes one fair game for The Phantom, who must dutifully report that his brow was furrowed by the director’s demeanor. She behaved like a Disneyland tour guide who had Celine Dion’s arm choreographer.

When the play began, the talent was a mixed bag. No one was awful. It all came out in the end. But you rely on The Phantom for shrewdness and sense, so he forges ahead. We have seen Joe Benjamin before, and although he seems to be a likeable fellow, he also yells a lot. As a matter of fact, he yelled almost constantly. For 1.5 hours. And still, after all that hollerin’, he still had enough chutzpah left in his strained vocal cords to give us an extra big yell in the very last scene. It was impressive, in the same way that a root canal seems to last for several days. We were tempted to cover our ears, and would have were they not already numb. Several audience members undoubtedly lost their remaining hearing, but it was probably too little, too late. But do take note: It wasn’t Joe’s volume that was annoying as much as the monotony of his incessant, unending, non-stop shouting. There was no variation, no distinguishing marks that differentiated the “angry-with-the-drunken-son” yelling from the pain yelling, and the pain yelling from the frightened yelling. Oy.

Segue to the children here. The twins were cute and precocious and slightly trying. The Phantom remains perplexed by the bizarre high step Ben Benjamin did when he was supposedly sneaking across the floor. Are all supporting actors driven to create a clever bit that backfires by being distracting and out of place? Could Ben possibly have been directed to be so “cute”? Oh, say it ain’t so, theater phans. But we loved his goofy hat with the flaps. No, really, we loved it.

David Benjamin was played deftly, and considering the complexity of the part, this actor did very well. We have only one note. Playing drunk is tricky. Most people overplay the role and come off as silly caricatures, just like—uh, oh—David did. The trick is (now lean in and listen carefully, kids) when you act drunk, try to act like you’re trying not to act drunk. Get it? Ok, ok, remember how you came home that time and your parents were waiting up for you because they suspected that you had been up to no good, and they were right? You walked in and pretended to have a completely straight conversation with them. You self-consciously tried to speak clearly, but it took time, and your manner was all wrong. You didn’t fool anybody. But now, when you’re onstage, if you can flash back and tap that goofiness, that slow deliberate attempt not to slur your words, then you are doing a good drunk.

Technically, Sydney Lipton wasn’t the lead, but he was really the star of the show. The Phantom’s sage acumen leaves him too certain of himself to wonder, as other audience members did, whether this character really was an employee of God or the actual Devil himself. The Phantom knows the answer. But please feel welcome to continue this debate on your own time. In any case, Sydney is one of those characters that an actor loves to play. All of Simon’s best lines were reserved for Sydney, and the Sydney in this production did a fine, energetic job with the material. Much of the time, he was a pleasure to watch. However, for the well-being of us all, The Phantom must act. This otherwise good actor continues to employ an odd aw-shucks, Hee-Haw, gol-durned jaw-hanging-open, lower-teeth-showing facial expression that must surely frighten small animals and children. This needs to stop. The face doesn’t work. It’s too foolish and farcical for too many of the situations in which it appears. Indeed, this problem has progressed to the point that a derisive nickname is now in order to convince this talented person to cease and desist. The suggestion box is open, dear Phans. The Phantom shall begin. How about “grotesque goofball”? Too mean? Yes, probably, even for The Phantom. But dire measures are needed. Feel free to help.

The actress who played Mady was wonderful. Nice sense of timing. Great accent. We loved her, and as is often the case with a good character actress, we wished we had seen more of her. Thank you for adding to our delight.

And the rest of the cast was just fine. Directing: good. Sets: fabulous.

And other than that, it was great.

The Phantom