the craptacular

High unemployment? Rioting in the streets? Europe on the brink of economic collapse? Political chaos in North Africa? Bonnie & Clyde is closing?

Well, I just want to tell you that all of that will be solved very, very soon, because according to the awesomely-named Baz Bamigboye, Aaron Tveit has been cast as Enjolras in the film version of Les Miserables.

We have no idea which planets aligned to make this happen, but we love to imagine Cameron Mackintosh sitting on a huge stack of money in his office, stroking his chin, thinking to himself, “Now who should play Enjolras? Who is cold as ice, has a solar plexus of steel, can sing like an angel, has eyes that gaze innocently at the Lord with no intent other than liberty, and would look good while dying upside-down with blood streaming out of his nose? Wait! I know!”

Enter Aaron Tveit, who we think is a brilliant (and deliciously un-obviously obvious) choice for one of The Sexiest Musical Theater Characters of All Time. We’re excited to see him trade his New Balances and his pilot hat for “the xylophone,” as our friend Nicole likes to call Enjolras’s famous costume. We do have some cautious but not overly bothersome questions about how Aaron will play “period” and what the wig situation will be like. But right now, we’re still celebrating, and thanking the gods of musical theater on film, who are usually kind of feeble but occasionally come through for us. And of course, you now have to tell us what you think. Aaron Tveit as Enjolras is…

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photo: aarontveit.net

This, my friends, is why the internet exists. To bring you four minutes and twenty-three seconds of crazypants perfection, complete with lycra, bad lighting, and 600 smoke machines. And Sarah Brightman singing about how a Starship Trooper commandeered her heart and probably her lady parts too. You cannot unsee this, and frankly, I don’t know why you’d ever want to.

Last night, sometime around midnight Lucky and I ended up huddled over a table in a bar with the cast of Bonnie & Clyde, watching this video on my phone. My life is forever changed, and I have Claybourne Elder to thank.

Because a conversation that started with Blanche Barrow, and segued into the intricacies of dying a bloody death on stage, somehow ended up here. With this video. And we weren’t even drunk!

Below, the highlights of one seriously memorable night:

• So there was a Q&A with several members of the cast and creative team of Bonnie & Clyde. And it was wonderful, but the best part came after the formal Q&A, when the lovely Melissa Van Der Schyff and Claybourne Elder (Blanche and Buck Barrow, respectively) landed at our table for a chat.
• Our friend Kevin Daly, aka Theatre Aficionado at Large, made the amazing observation that though Melissa’s take on Blanche Barrow was quite different from Estelle Parson’s take on Blanche in the film, they both achieved something very similar—a beautifully realized performance that was a total highlight for audiences. Here’s to hoping Melissa can snag herself a Tony with the role, just like Parsons scored an Academy Award.
• Melissa and Claybourne told us about their awesome and hilarious and strangely sweet bloodying and de-bloodying rituals for Buck’s gory death scene, and the subsequent curtain call in which they hit the stage looking fresh as daisies. Apparently it’s such a harried process that it took Melissa weeks to even realize that Claybourne is essentially feeling her up as he rubs fake blood all over her chest with his hands every night.
• As Claybourne is de-gore-ifying himself, several dressers pitch in and help, one of whom holds a jar fondly referred to as “Bits o’ Buck.” Claybourne scrapes the pieces of fake brain matter that are all over his hands into that pre-curtain call. He’s saving them for a rainy day. Or the BCEFA Flea Market. Or something.
• I’m just going to repeat this for emphasis: “Bits o’ Buck” y’all. That is AMAZING.
• The conversation then meandered to Michael Crawford and The Phantom of the Christmas Album, and You Tube videos like this one. Claybourne and Melissa both did awesome impressions of Mr. Crawford singing a variety of songs you never wanted to hear the Phantom sing.
• That’s when we fell down the YouTube rabbit hole right there at our table and thanks to Claybourne Elder, I will never see the world the same way again. I’m just sorry we can’t share video of Claybourne’s impromptu performance of Sarah’s choreography (though I’m guessing Mr. Elder is not). I suppose the music video and your imagination will just have to suffice. So, on behalf of Mr. Elder and The Craptacular—you are welcome, America.

So, here’s the crappy thing. We didn’t immediately write about Standing on Ceremony: The Gay Marriage Plays because we thought we had some time. But winter is cruel in New York and the show is closing in half a second (December 18) – a bummer, because we really enjoyed it and thought it had a future like the similarly-structured Love, Loss, and What I Wore. At the performance we attended, we:

• Laughed our faces off
• Sat across the aisle from Kelly Ripa (and admired her amazing platform heels)
• Ogled her husband Mark Consuelos just a little bit
• Ogled his costar Craig Bierko a lot bit
• Laughed along with Harriet Harris, who apparently is a genius at everything
• Chatted with the cast after the show, and asked them what kinds of plays they would add to the ever-shifting mix of this one, if they could choose. Harriet Harris’s answer: A play about same-sex divorce. Polly Draper: A play about entering into a same-sex marriage with children in the mix.
• Wept like babies during Moises Kaufman’s play, which was presented as a eulogy for a beloved partner
• Admired the pretty/dramatic/simple-but-bold set, which was done up like a ballroom at a wedding reception, by Sarah Zeitler
• Massively dug Doug Wright’s play, which presents a battle of ideologies played out on a Facebook wall.
• Took some extremely poor but well-intentioned photographs at the post-show event. Behold. And yes, we’re writers, not photographers.

Wednesday night Lucky and I had a few adult beverages on an empty stomach and went to see An Evening with Patti & Mandy and it was the GREATEST THING EVER. Okay, so it was completely crazypants and I’m not even entirely sure what all happened, or if I just dreamed the whole thing up. But I fucking loved every crazy moment of it. Because (fun) crazy is one of my favorite things to see on stage. Well, that and Mandy Patinkin affectionately patting Patti LuPone on the bum, which, good news, also happened multiple times that night. It was like my theater dream come true! Below, five of the crazy things that happened on stage at the Barrymore Theater:

They walked out on stage looking very much like your friendly neighborhood sociopath/axe-murderers
Maybe it was all that black clothing. Or that weird blank expression Mandy made while Patti was solo-ing. Or… I dunno. They just looked like manic crazypeople, smiling real hard and waiting for you to turn around so they could bury an axe between your shoulders. I should note that this did not make me enjoy “Some Enchanted Evening” any less. In fact. I may have gotten a bit teary, regardless.

The 37 Minute Carousel-Medley-of-Doom
Honestly, Patti & Mandy ended the night with the longest Carousel medley of life. It was basically Carousel Abridged. And it was not their best choice. Especially when they failed to edit out the “He hit me because he loved me” bullshit that Julie spouts over Billy’s dead body, which really doesn’t work as well in 2011 as it did (?) in whatthefuckever year the show actually happened.

The Secret Garden did not happen
I mean, maybe asking for a “Lily’s Eyes” duet was a bit much. But not even “Race You to the Top Of the Morning”? You’re killing me, Mandy. You’re killing me! But really. The song selection was often extremely weird. Like, all the B-Sides of musical theater ever, thrown into one show. As Lucky said while reading the Playbill pre-show, “I could have vomited up a box of Alpha-bits and come up with a better set list than this!”

“Buddy’s Blues”
Okay. So I get that we’re doing this like it really is in the warp-universe/Loveland/circus/vaudeville space. But, really? Mandy, it’s too many things. And that face you keep making where you pull your cheeks back and your lips become a really thin line and your eyes bug out? It’s creepy. And I don’t understand it. And it’s creepy.

The fact that I still want to have all kinds of crazy sex with Mandy Patinkin
I know, I KNOW! Even after all that, I still love him so much it makes my heart hurt and my lady parts sing. YEAH, I SAID IT. I know he has a wife. And children my age. And in Compulsion he had creepy pseudo-sex with an Anne Frank puppet on stage, which is something you cannot unsee. I honestly do not care. Not even one iota. That is how much I love Mandy Patinkin. My evening with Patti & Mandy somehow only solidified that love, which may be the craziest thing of all.

Photo: Joan Marcus

Tickets provided by the production.

I enjoy your foot and your stick-on soap bubble, Jeremy Jordan

So let’s get some important things out of the way about Frank Wildhorn’s new musical: Yes, Jeremy Jordan is delicious and big singing, and you will want to dive headlong into the fathomless depths of his dimples. Yes, Laura Osnes has outrageously great abs and sings like a singing machine of perfection. Yes, Melissa Van Der Schyff deserves, and will probably get, a Tony nod for her portrayal of Clyde’s sister-in-law Blanche. Yes, there is one truly beautiful, flawlessly craptacular moment in the second act where Bonnie & Clyde becomes Bonnie & Zack Morris, in which Clyde stops the action around him, steps out of time, and discusses why he happens to occasionally kill people.

But the show, which opens tonight on Broadway, has some problems. In that light, I give you:

5 People Who Could Die in the First Act of Bonnie & Clyde, But Unfortunately Don’t

1. and 2. The ICs
You know what IC stands for right? Make it your new favorite acronym: Insufferable Children. Bonnie & Clyde has two of them – an insufferable Bonnie child, and an insufferable Clyde child. In another context, they might not be so insufferable, but in this one, they just wander around and heavy-handedly underline the point that Bonnie and Clyde began their lives as innocent, wide-eyed babes who never meant to hurt anyone, honest. Their smiles will grate, and their sun-will-fucking-definitely-come-out-tomorrow singing voices will make you want to punch holes in concrete walls. Paging Gavroche, stat.

3. The Poor Bastard Being Played by Louis Hobson
JESUS CHRIST, LOUIS HOBSON. First The People in the Picture, now this? Louis Hobson, who is so talented and cute and the one and only Dr. Fine of my heart 4 eva and eva. In Bonnie & Clyde, he is given the thankless task of playing Bonnie’s nice, hard-working, non-homicidal rival suitor. But in a show called Bonnie & Clyde, you don’t even want to think about being that guy. In a show called Bonnie & Clyde, you are that guy in your nightmares, and in those nightmares, you are wearing a gun holster and singing a gentle, deeply unmelodic, country-tinged ballad in 3/4 time while your woman fucks Jack Kelly… I mean Clyde… under a tree ten feet away. Wake up, Louis Hobson! Wake up!

4. Frank Wildhorn
Before I really get into this, I have to say. I have been known, on occasion, to bust out the Jekyll & Hyde album, and when I get my own cabaret show, “The World Has Gone Insane” is going to be my first-half closer. So I appreciate some well-placed Wildhorn now and again. But the songs in Bonnie & Clyde are more or less a catastrophe of monumental proportions for all the same reasons that Wildhorn songs always are: They miss the emotional mark, and they’re so flat and literal. There’s a song about driving cars. There’s a song about not wanting to go to jail. There’s a song about how getting gunned down in a 1934 Ford Sedan isn’t the worst way to go. That last one, incidentally, will make you want to raise your hand, midshow, like a precocious fourth grader, and say to whomever will listen, “Actually. Dying is so bad, Bonnie Parker. I appreciate that this show doesn’t really give your character any serious intellectual substance, but if you die, you literally lose at life. So yes, dying is that bad.”

5: Me
Right at the beginning of the show, when Precocious Insufferable Baby Clyde was shooting his Playschool Child’s First Gun, I thought to myself, “OK, kid. Aim right for the audience—Row M, Orchestra Left—and hit me right in the chest and end this right now.” Stop trying to convince me that Bonnie and Clyde are just two nice kids. Stop being the kind of show that goes so far as to put a note in the Playbill to explain as much, like we’re all a little slow in the head. Stop trying to aggressively avoid the whole cynical-and-corrupted-young-America idea that’s so prominent in the MOVIE, because—newsflash—THE MOVIE IS GOOD. What’s wrong with being good? Being good is good! Hit me with your best shot, baby Clyde. Because literally losing at life might not be so bad as watching Bonnie & Clyde.

So Alan Rickman is starring in this think-y play on Broadway called Seminar. It’s by Theresa Rebeck, and it’s about writers, and the notion of what it means to be a writer, which might make your head hurt. It makes my head hurt, and I write. In fact, it might make my head hurt because I write. But when you discuss this play at your office, or with your friends over dinner, these are the five likely conversations you will have. (And yes, we are all going to pretend that you work in an office where people care about things like think-y plays about writers starring Alan Rickman. Because that’s the headspace you like to inhabit on a regular basis.) Here goes:

Alan Rickman is the bomb… even when he’s not playing Professor Snape, who is, of course, the bomb of all starkly dressed cinematic bombs. In Seminar, he plays a writing coach who spends a lot of time alternately verbally abusing, half-encouraging, and sleeping with his students. He is the venerable professional that his young students want to become. Of course, we learn over the course of the evening that his experience has come at great cost. In a single terrifying, sonorous monologue late in the show, he projects out the life path of one of his most talented students. The effect is riveting, and gives a sense of what’s at stake for all of these characters: It’s not just writing. It’s a terrifying, risky life. And even the most talented can come to disastrous ends.

Hamish Linklater has a shockingly hot body… I guess I could pretend that I didn’t notice, because this is a play where we’re all supposed to be thinking with what’s between our ears, but to hell with that. Also, in a play that touches liberally on the theme of what it means to get your art noticed by any means, it bears mentioning. Hamish Linklater is ripped like Jesus, and you actually get to see his rippedness for about half a blissful second, along with his tattoo. Which is real. Because I googled it. Of course, it also bears mentioning that Hamish Linklater gives a great performance here as one of Rickman’s most gun-shy, neurotic pupils.

That lady just flashed you… There is a moment right at the top of the show were Hettienne Park, playing Izzy, a self-professed “edgy” downtown writer, fully pulls her shirt up and shows you her boobs. For a lot longer than you think it’s going to happen. Her point, and the entire point of the character’s existence in the show, is to illustrate how some young writers make their mark simply by having impact, and not by being any good. Anyone who’s ever taken a writing class knows this person. New York is full of her, and the male version of her too. Rickman’s character actually praises her for this, because it’s a method of survival in a line of work where so few survive. But for the sake of your water cooler conversation, I’m guessing that you’ll just be discussing her boobs.

Why is this apartment onstage so much nicer than my apartment…? Much is made of Lily Rabe’s character’s apartment in the show, and with good reason. It’s beautiful and huge. And rent-controlled. There’s art on the walls, a pretty chandelier in the center of the room. This rich girl’s life serves as the backdrop in Seminar for a reason: It’s mostly rich people who can afford to write. Who can spend years tinkering with a single story, like Rabe’s character does? Not Hamish Linklater’s character, who balks at the apartment and the privilege that comes along with it. Props to designer David Zinn for creating a space that makes good sense for these characters to inhabit—and for giving me decorating tips.

Who the hell would ever want to be a writer…? You can extrapolate the ideas in Seminar out to all artists, because the show basically concerns itself with the creation of art, and what that means in our world. Its characters are not so different from a gang of struggling young painters or photographers. And Rebeck teases out the idea well—the endless competition, the stifling of talent by fickle audiences. Somehow, though, this play doesn’t really achieve more than that. Maybe it’s because so few people actually try to make a living making art. In that light, the play’s themes can seem remote. The human relationships in the show work hard to keep things grounded—and strong performances all around help the cause—but if you’re not struggling through the third draft of your novel, you might leave the theater scratching your head.

image: AP Photo/The Publicity Office, Jeremy Daniel

Look. I’m just going to lay it on you.

This production of Private Lives is not going to help you understand why the fuck this play keeps getting revived every five minutes. (Well. Beyond the fact that it’s an obvious star vehicle and it’s not totally insulting to human intelligence a la Spider-Man.)

Because this comedy of manners is still kind of shallow. And it still relies upon wild, unrealistic coincidences to motivate the plot. And there’s not actually very much moral handwringing or like… basic suspense to what is happening on the stage.  In other words, this production, directed by Richard Eyre and currently playing at the Music Box Theater, just doesn’t solve the problems Noel Coward’s play presents for a modern audience.

But somehow, that doesn’t render the play completely unenjoyable.  Probably because its stars are such fun to watch.

Sure, Kim Cattrall’s performance as Amanda—a woman on honeymoon with her second husband—is a bit uneven and occasionally stiff. But when she’s on, she’s on, and it’s great to watch her play someone besides Samantha Jones with such gusto.  Who knew Ms. Cattrall was such a good physical comedienne? I certainly didn’t.

And then there’s her co-star, Paul Gross, who plays Amanda’s ex-husband Elyot, who also happens to be on honeymoon with his new spouse. You probably have no idea who Mr. Gross is—mostly, he’s starred in Canadian TV shows—but he will be front and center on your radar after you see Private Lives for several reasons. First and foremost, he looks good in those suits. I mean, really. Pictures do not do him justice. Man is looking handsome. You understand why Amanda wants to leave her husband for Elyot, that’s for sure. But secondly, he’s actually hilarious. His comedic timing is fantastic and the way he drops each line—as if they were his own witty words just rolling off his tongue—is completely badass. Gross alone is worth the price of admission.

So the bottom line is this: you probably won’t leave the theater with any understanding of why Private Lives is supposedly considered Noel Coward’s finest work. But you will have a good time while you’re there.

Photo: Cylla von Tiedemann

Tickets provided by the production.

It’s that time of year again! Between Black Friday sales and tree-trimming, please join us in our little annual tradition: The Craptacular’s hot shirtless men on Broadway post! Enjoy. And try not to drool on the keyboard.

Jeremy Jordan

Hunter Parrish

Wallace Smith

The Various Spider-Men

Norm Lewis

Nick Adams

Harry Connick, Jr.

Darren Criss

Daniel Radcliffe

Andrew Rannells

Adam Pascal

Further reading: 10 Hot Shirtless Men on Broadway 2010

Radcakes loves to rehearse in the rain. So does Michael Park.

Hey hey, America! What is up? Welcome to the one day of the year you pay any attention to Broadway musicals, besides the night of the Tony Awards. And let’s be real: You don’t even care that much about the Tony Awards. So, for moms who are up early stuffing the turkey, general insomniacs, and enthusiastic theater nerds across the nation, we give you our guide to what’s what on the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. No, Jonathan Groff and Lea Michele won’t be standing on a float, surrounded by dancing M&Ms this year, but there’s plenty of other stuff to savor — hours before all the tryptophan hits your system.

Newsies
This is a musical about turn-of-the-century newsboys who sing and dance, because that’s what turn-of-the-century newsboys did in between being impoverished and starring in Disney movies. Another thing that the Newsies like to do? Sing and dance in Herald Square, duh. In fact, they sing and dance in Herald Square EVERY MORNING. Because they’re Newsies. So what you’re seeing on the parade telecast is just a basic thing that happens all the time in New York City. This show stars this guy named Jeremy Jordan… I mean… a guy named no one.

How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying
Besides having the longest title in the history of musicals, this is that show that stars Harry Potter. That’s basically it. Oh, you want to know more? Well. It’s an ancient satire that doesn’t really play like satire anymore, but that’s probably director Rob Ashford’s fault, so I shouldn’t blame the material. Anyway. The good news is, if the cast performs “Brotherhood of Man”—and they always do—it’ll save you about $150 a ticket and several hours of your life. No reason to see the show after you’ve seen the best part for free. You’re welcome, America.

Spider-Man: Turn Off the Dark
Yes. This is the show that dropped some people. And concussed some others. I mean, they’re not likely to bring all the rigging and shit for flying out onto 34^th Street, so the chances of major bodily injury or death are slim. Mostly, you’ll probably just be forced to listened to several minutes of whiney U2-esque pop rock. But don’t despair. You’ll also get to see star Reeve Carney, and he’s hot as hell. All is not lost. Plus, if its cold and Spidey didn’t stretch enough, you might get to see someone tear their groin. That’s exciting, right?

Anything Goes
This is a very old musical that doesn’t make any sense anymore, but you won’t care because the girl who stars in it is named Sutton Foster, and she is the queen of all badassery and if she was actually going to be on the Macy’s Parade, probably even your Dad would come to the TV and watch for a minute because she’s really hot. Too bad, though. She’s not going to be on the parade because she’s a big star, and who wants to freeze their ass off in Herald Square on Thanksgiving Day when they can be home, snuggling on the couch with Bobby Cannavale while other people handle the cooking and the belting and things.

Sister Act
This is a show about singing nuns! It’s really good! It’s not about anything else besides singing nuns. Just lots of singing nuns. That means that no one in this show has sex or kisses anybody, but there is a huge statue of the Virgin Mary that’s all bedazzled like a disco ball, and it spins around. Because that’s what disco balls do. You probably won’t see that on the parade because it’s too big to move around. I mean, it moves around. But it only moves around inside the theater where it’s at.

Memphis
This is a show where Roger in Rent plays someone else. You can tell he’s someone else because he’s ten years older and doesn’t have any tattoos. The general story of Memphis is about how white people saved rock and roll and fixed all the racism on earth and then sang a song about it. Bon Jovi wrote the songs. It’s good. You know that it’s good because it won the Tony Award for Best Musical. That’s what the sign says.

Priscilla Queen of the Desert
Do not change the channel. Those are indeed men dressed as women. Here in the big city we call them drag queens. And yes, they’re singing a song you already know. No poncy show tunes here. Just men dressed as women singing Madonna. It’s okay to sing along and tap your toes. In fact, you totally should! Because that will totally prove to your dirty liberal friends and family that you’re not closed minded! You like the gays when they’re not hitting on you! See, you’re even tapping your toes and singing along with Drag Queens!