Thoughts on: Far From Heaven, Off-Broadway
The show put forth a solid effort, but it felt like a house constructed without a foundation. Considering how miraculously affecting much of the Grey Gardens music was, I expected at least one song to make me feel something. Instead, I felt less than I do while watching episodes from season 2 of New Girl. And that shouldn’t be close to the case for a show about a woman, mother, wife in the 1950s dealing with her homosexual, philandering husband and her own surprising romantic feelings for her black gardener. I know! It’s all there, waiting to be interpreted and transcended, and yet the opportunity was squandered. This show deals with pretty much the most serious dramatic ploys possible – all of them! – yet doesn’t deliver emotionally. There has to be a really big disconnect among the creators for something like that to happen.
The songs need to be rewritten, plain and simple. The book needs editing too, as I saw way too much of Cathy’s (O’Hara) husband’s office, and not enough of Cathy’s best friend’s seeming understanding yet complete and utter disapproval. I also didn’t understand the casting of Steve Pasquale as the husband. Maybe it was because I couldn’t understand what he was saying. Diction, people!
I didn’t actively dislike the show, but I didn’t actively feel anything, which is a huge problem. Plays happen up on that stage in order to make you, the audience, feel something, and I felt nothing. I just wanted to badly for it to be the event I was hoping for. With any luck, severe changes will be made and the show will be entirely transformed when (if) it goes to Broadway. I sincerely hope this happens, because everyone involved deserves better.
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“War Paint” on Broadway: The Good, The Bad, and The Not Ugly Can’t Be Ugly With So Much Makeup Involved
The Broadway musical “War Paint”, which ends its respectable run this weekend, flew in completely under my radar, but once it was on it, I was so hooked. A new musical with a brand-new score, telling the story of two of the greatest women in business, and starring two of the greatest women in musical theatre? Sign me up! Doesn’t that sound just kick you in the shins spit on your neck fantastic? I don’t know how the anticipation of this show was so contained, because in theory it is just the greatest idea ever: Christine Ebersole, Patti LuPone, a new score by Korie and Frankel (who wrote the glorious “Grey Gardens” for Christine), and a biographical tale of cosmetics giants Elizabeth Arden and Helena Rubenstein and their long rivalry? I still can’t get over how incredible it is in theory. In theory.
I read some of Lindy Woodhead’s book (erma) when writing this up because I am hella professional, but going into the show I knew nothing about the lives of Rubenstein or Arden except that they were successful businessers whose names still carry significant weight today. Going in cold, I was so pumped to be blown away. However, from the start I could tell that I would be annoyingly unsatisfied. There were moments of greatness – LuPone’s humor, Ebersole’s vulnerability, both of their voices (in SUCH good shape), a few of their songs. But overall, the score was mediocre, the book was a g-d mess (such eye rolling at the dialogue and some unnecessary whole scenes), and the choreography was meh. If I’m sitting in an audience thinking “I could do that choreo” and I’m right? That doesn’t belong on a professional stage.
But really no matter how much I criticize it (and how much there is to criticize), it was amazing to be able to see these two pillars of musical theatre not only again but together. Patti’s vocal placement remains unparalleled. Christine is so lovely and heartbreaking as always. The show was unquestionably worth seeing for these performances, even though I questioned seeing it because I’ve seen both of them in other and better shows. At one moment I thought to myself “dammit they are incredible” and then was like “oh well yeah that’s why there are four Tony Awards up there between the two of them.”
Okay so what’s it about plot-wise and not just historically? It starts with a look inside Arden’s well-oiled machine, her super successful and popular salon with the famous red door, and all the inner workings and workers who keep it moving. Arden had pioneered the lighter touch to makeup to make it okay for higher class women to wear it, mostly tricking them with pink porcelain containers that were responsible for like 90% of a product’s cost. But then this brassy Jewish immigrant with an AMAZ accent comes around with an enticing brand that threatens to take Arden’s top spot in the industry. Whereas Arden’s was pink and soft and old moneyed, Rubenstein’s aesthetic is sleek and chic, black and white, sexual and violent, grabbing the attention of a lot of customers. The two battled back and forth, stealing ideas and secrets, trying to get a similar product out before the other, and most importantly upping their game consistently in their rivalry, which actually benefited everyone.
It was most interesting to see the two strong women reconcile the fact that they are pioneers for strong women in industry, with the fact that their success is coming in an industry telling women they aren’t good enough as is. An actual quote of Rubenstein’s is “There are no ugly women, only lazy ones,” which is HILARIOUS but like, terrible. This provocative conflict between what they represented and what they were actually doing added to all the interesting conflict with each other and the competition that was responsible for a lot of later success, when either could have easily just skated by instead of constantly trying to innovate. There was SO MUCH potential for this story, right?? and I hate that it wasn’t a home run.
One of the biggest problems for me was that Rubenstein’s and Arden’s male companions’ and partners’ storylines and songs take up WAY too much space. Their whole thing reeks of fragile white masculinity and it is so eyeroll through all of it. It made me angry that even in my safe space I couldn’t get away from white men complaining when they might not be in charge of literally every single little bit of the world and oh how terrible it was for them to have (gasp) ladybosses. But more than that, I was furious that it seemed like the creators were seemingly trying to shore up a show about two strong amazing women by adding a B plot about their partners, adding a male story just in case the ignorant masses would be too scandalized by a show only about women. Like the thought that “oh to be safe we need a lot about the men in their lives” was probably the focus of a lot of early discussions. And it made the show worse. Trust female stories to be enough.
Aside from these men, my other big problem with the show was another white man, Charles Revson, who grows up to form Revlon and who in the movie version would be played by that creepy guy who shows up in literally every TV show, Isaac Heller. Revson is responsible for nail polish being so easy and accessible. Early on, he tried to sell his product to both women, who both passed. His bit could have been a short thing just so we knew his name and his deal and that both women passed, and his later enormous success – and his overtaking both Arden and Rubenstein in sales – would have had the same impact on the audience, as we realize oh shit this was probably a big mistake on both their parts. But to have looong boring scenes where he tries to sell his product and then later a whole drawn out mess with his big Revlon commercial/musical number? We did not need to see the TV commercial for Not One of the Main Characters. And we REALLY didn’t need that mess where Arden tries to warn Revson’s model girlfriend that she should be careful being his model because…actually it’s unclear why she felt so sad about the model, except that maybe she meant to say ‘don’t rely on your looks, they fade’ and was guessing at how sad the pretty girl might feel one day? BUT WHY WOULD THAT MAKE A COSMETICS GIANT SAD THAT JUST MEANS SHE’D HAVE A DEFINITE FUTURE CUSTOMER.
In the book (#woodhead), it’s clear that both women’s failure to recognize Revson as a serious player in the cosmetics industry and as a potential competitor was a huge mistake, and I think that could have effectively been shown without giving him unnecessary stage time. The women were too busy concentrating on fighting with and one-upping each other to notice new opponents creeping around them. This is an important fact, but the show addresses it way too messily.
But that competition and rivalry was the best part, creating such drama and intrigue between the two as representatives of their companies. They engaged in back and forth recipe leaking thanks to their partners who swapped companies (that should have been the focus of the men’s stories – that they both left to work in the rival company – AND THAT’S IT), and that led the FDA to require cosmetics to list every single ingredient on the label. We have all the shady dealings of these women to thank for knowing what’s in our stuff. How interesting is that? That’s strong material I wish we saw more of. (There was a Senate hearing or two but I wanted more and I wanted facts!) Both had to rename products and rethink advertising campaigns – especially when we saw both of them sell creams that were identical but one was sold for night and one for day. Companies still pull that shit today though when we can clearly see it’s all the same ingredients!
I also loved that we saw how these amazing women adapted when the war broke out – by creating products specifically for women in action and by veering away from using materials being rationed. This was interesting! Do more of that! I loved that they said they were helping to provide women in action with the war paint (take a shot) they needed to stay strong. The commitment of these women to make the companies they built as strong as possible could have made such a solid show if the creators believed in that story enough. Luckily the two performances are incredible, as I said. And not just their singing; they are some of the best actresses too. Patti’s biggest line, delivered when she is yet again trying to think of ways to destroy her rival, was, “It is dangerous to leave an enemy wounded. The attack must be fatal.” It’s a good line and her delivery was one hundred emoji but it did NOT need to get extended audience applause. What the crap kind of psychopaths was I sitting among.
Christine’s best line won’t really translate to the page, but when she was dismissing all the other sources of competition in the industry (really, they only had eyes for each other), she waves off the idea of being threatened by one of them because “she’s from Hoboken!” Right it sounds like nothing but Ebersole’s delivery was maybe the best of any line ever by anyone and the audience was crying. Patti’s funniest moments were from her ridiculous accent that I LOVED. It made her say things like ‘shits’ instead of ‘sheets’. “Where’s that contract?” “It’s right here on the shits.” Obsessed.
See I complain but there was so much good in this show. I just so badly wanted it to be better. The big number “Face to Face”, the duet performed on the Tonys, felt like an important piece of musical theatre history, just watching these two sing a duet. And Arden’s big 11 o’clock number “Pink”, about how her dismay that her entire life’s legacy might just be boiled down to her signature color, was Tony worthy in my opinion. And honestly, the costumes stand out as the most striking part of the show. They really deserved to win the Tony. I’ve never really noticed costumes before, not enough to realize that I’m noticing them, but I was in awe of Catherine Zuber’s work here. She is flames.
Side note, I learned afterward that Elizabeth Arden’s real name was Florence Nightingale Graham lolol her shitty parents.
So if somehow you have the chance to see this show in the next few days, you should. It’s so frustrating that it wasn’t constructed more thoughtfully and that all the songs aren’t as good as the best ones, but there is still some greatness in the story, and seeing LuPone and Ebersole together is a magical experience.
THEATRE
- The Nederlander redid the bathrooms since I was there last and it’s maybe the best bathroom situation I’ve ever seen in a theatre except for the Lyric, that shit is enormous.
- I got rush tickets for a Saturday matinee right before showtime. Definitely one of the easiest rushes I’ve ever encountered. (Although probably not for its final weekend.)
- This had the latest start of any show I’ve been to, I think. But it was a Saturday matinee and it was the oldest crowd I’ve ever seen too, older even than the people on the cruise I was on 8 years ago when it was me and husband and then 100 people from The Villages retirement home in Florida. So, I guess there’s at least a reason.
STAGEDOOR
OMG are you kidding, you do not stagedoor on two-show days for people of this calibre! They’re not coming out for shit!
“Oh, Hello”: Oh, Goodbye to the Funniest Show On Br’dway
First, the two men introduce themselves to the audience in front of the closed curtain in a prologue of sorts. Nick Kroll plays Gil Faizon, “charmed I’m sure”, a down on his luck actor who didn’t book an important gig as the CBS mascot, and John Mulaney is George St. Geegland, a writer of tenuous ability who wrote the play within a play that the two will perform later in the show – about two old men who live together on the Upper West side, named George and Gil. The ‘real’ George and Gil are, of course, also Upper West Siders – “the coffee breath of neighborhoods.” George introduces himself by saying “for someone who is so frequently mistaken for a Jew and a woman, I am neither.” George and Gil traipse about the front of the stage just as you would imagine two elderly men with shoddy hips would. They proclaim their love for the theatre and their intentions to pay “homepage” to the great theatrical traditions. George mentions that it will be a treat “for anyone familiar with our oeuvre, which means ‘egg.’” They go on to boast about their Br’dway home, the Lyceum theatre, which has housed works by such greats as Tennessee Williams and his sister, Serena.
As they move about the stage, you notice more detail about their costumes. George goes for a musty professor look, with corduroys, a turtleneck, an old man sweater vest, and a heavy tweed jacket from which you can almost smell the mothballs and b.o. no doubt emanating. Gil is more casual in dark green pants of unknown origin, a brown leather jacket that looks older than he is, a pink shirt that screams Miami circa 1982 coming through the zipper of his pants, and sandals with white socks. I would have been hysterical even if they were silent. Every single movement Nick Kroll made was perfection. Just the way his resting face would subtly resemble a main drooler in a nursing home was fantastic. Mulaney was less developed in all the depth of detail that Kroll had, but still great. If this wasn’t a ridiculous comedy spoof Kroll’s character preparation would be award-worthy. So unnecessary.
Then the curtain rises to reveal an intricate set, with an exterior of an apartment building on one side of the stage and the detailed interior of an apartment on the other, plus a salon in the back. Gil notes to the audibly surprised audience, not expecting such a set for such a show, “This is the first time an audience’s expectations were exceeded by having a set.” They explain that they retrieved all the various set pieces from past shows that had been on Br’dway. Some came from an August Wilson play that they can’t remember the name of; that’s why the picture of ‘their family’ hanging on the wall is of a black family. The salon was courtesy of Steel Magnolias, of course, with its chairs with the hair dryer helmets attached and the wall of products. The trapdoor, from the Diary of Anne Frank. (There’s a lot of humor that is awful like that so you have to be along for the ride.) The geezers get the audience used to the serious theatre they’re about to throw at us (not) by going over some of their favorite theatrical traditions. George talks about how obvious it is when someone is going to die by the end of a play because they’ll cough in their handkerchief and then open it very conspicuously and it’ll have red blood on it. True! He of course demonstrates how this plays out, and as the dying cougher he holds up a blood-stained handkerchief for all to see. Gil demonstrates another way overused theatre trick, and one of my favorite parts of the show, the ‘one-sided phone call’, or as he says it, “the win-sided phin call.” Asking their (unseen/not real) Indian lighting intern Ravi, “one of those new kinds of Indians”, for melodramatic lighting, Gil performs this theatrical ploy of repeating information from an offstage source so the audience knows what you’re learning. First, you get a phone that no one would ever have; Gil produces an old-fashioned rotary phone. Then, you fiddle with it way too much ‘to show the audience that you’ve been working with it all week’. Then the conversation occurs as such:
*Ring ring*
Gil: Oh, hello.
*Pause*
Gil: Charmed I’m sure.
*Pause*
Gil: The police?
*Pause*
Gil: Oh, you’re the police.
I’m still laughing at that. It’s so stupid! Yet it was hilarious! That’s what most of the show is like, really. They share a lot of their backstory as friends and roommates and all their misfortunes and misadventures, and then they perform George’s play for us. It’s hard to tell where the play ends and the play-within-the-play begins, because nothing really changes. It’s still the two of them being preposterous. They talk about past successes and failures, and they give us a rundown of their goings-on from various decades, all of which seemed to involve Steely Dan music and, their favorite thing in the world, “c’caine.” They talk about c’caine a lot, and against all odds their repeated pronunciation of that word gets funnier and funnier.
The play versions of George and Gil resurrect a radio show they once had called “Too Much Tuna”, where they chat with celebrities at a dirty local diner where even the coffee is gray, and feed them freaking enormous tunafish sandwiches. At least I think that was in the play; like I said, it’s hard to discern what was written by George and what was the main show, especially because the gimmick of that radio show – on station WOLO (say it out loud) – is exactly what they performed for real every day. George and Gil sit down at their diner table and start their radio show, and glory over the greatness of tunafish. “It really is the queen of the sandwich meats,” they say. SANDWICH MEATS. Then they bring out their special guest for the show, to the audience’s delight. So every performance, a random person from the audience or, more commonly, the biggest celebrity in the audience would be brought up on stage to try to make sense of what was going on and what George and Gil are saying and try not to just sit there laughing hysterically while they ask if you do cuhcaine. At my show, our celebrity guest was Hank Azaria, which was a fantastic surprise. He talked about how he part-owns a horse, a ridiculous fact that George and Gil brought up later in the show. Hank also talked about how his brother was once asked to join the Ramones, when they were first starting. Gil responded, “I was asked to join Simon and Garfunkel, because I was equal parts Simon and Garfunkel.” The improv throughout the show but particularly at this segment is beyond impressive.
In the play-within-the play, or maybe in real life, Gil had a problem with raccoons. (Rickoons.) He somehow always found himself having relationships with them, and was currently embroiled in a tumultuous affair with a r’ccoon named Lisa (who runs the Twitter for the show’s surprise guests, for real). Somehow this led to them talking about Shakespeare in the Park – maybe that’s where they met, I can’t remember the logic of this show, I was crying the entire time. “Did you ever go to Sh’kspeare in the Park?”, they ask. They discuss “Sh’kspeare” and how overrated he is. “Sh’kspeare is such a hack. Romeo sees the girl and just does a quick take – ‘Oh, ya dead? I’m not gonna check if you’re just sleeping I’ll just kill myself.’ Hack.”
Who on earth knows or remembers how, but the performance of George’s play leads into another unexpected yet familiar theatre trope – the nightmare ballet. As crazy as it sounds, it looked even crazier. There was all kinds of crap happening with the lights and ghosts and set pieces and all of it was like an LSD-trip — which they touched on at one point, referring to an “LSD cult now known as SoulCycle”. They wake up from this insanity laying down on the floor, unable to move after what they’ve just been through given their advanced age. Prostrate (a word I imagine they would love saying and confusing with something close to it), they take turns yelling up to Ravi, the lighting intern, for help. It’s one of those jokes that is funny but somehow gets funnier the longer it goes on, once it reaches and then passes the point at which you go, annoyed, ‘oh it has to stop now, right?’ noooope. “RAVI! IT’S GEORGE. FROM THE FLOOR.” “RAVI! It’s Gil. Charmed I’m sure.”
I have a vague memory of “Too Much Tuna” getting picked up for more episodes and so they celebrate their success with new outfits. Mulaney comes out in a very slimly tailored beige belted expedition ensemble which he perfectly terms “Pussy Safari”. Gil shares that all he aspires to own one day is a ‘thundercoat.’ “A what?”, George asks. “A thundercoat,” Gil responds. “For a dog. When there’s a thunderstorm, and they get scared…it helps them not be scared….Well they still get scared.”
This show had no right being as hysterical as it was. I’ll remember things every so often, like how Gil found himself out in the audience at one point and saw a young boy sitting on the aisle, and asked him in his normal voice, “Are you enjoying ANY of this?” Or how Gil once worked as a stand-in for mashed potatoes ‘so they could get the lighting right for photo shoots’. How do they think of this stuff?! I can’t wait to see the taped performance (details for the airing have not yet been announced) and I hope all of you watch it too, but really there was nothing like seeing this absurdity live onstage. Whatever’s in the Lyceum next has, somehow, astonishingly, inexplicably, big shoes to fill.
Theatre:
The Lyceum Theatre gets my vote for Br’dway theatre most in need of a serious refurbishment. The only bathroom is down a staircase only reached from inside the orchestra, which is insane to begin with. But there are maybe 4 really old stalls in a bathroom lingering from the 1970s. Because of this, the theatre boasts the longest bathroom lines of any theatre. Be warned. You’d think the Shuberts could afford a little upgrade. Eye roll emoji.