the craptacular

There is a moment I will never forget, sitting in my living room in Massachusetts, flipping through the channels. I was 16 years old, and I came across an episode of a show that I loved, but barely understood called Style With Elsa Klensch. It aired on CNN—a thing that seems impossible now, in a day when political channels are filled only with people shouting at each other—and it featured roundups of fashion shows, tours of swank homes, and interviews with the morbidly and globally stylish.

As a teenager who spent most of her time in stovepipe cargo pants and t-shirts, connected to the living room stereo by the umbilical cord of the headphones, listening to the original London cast recording of Aspects of Love, I was both intimidated and riveted. That’s when I saw Karl Lagerfeld for the first time.

He was waving his fan, nudging his soap-bubble sunglasses up his nose, and Elsa was asking about the inspiration for his new collection, which was filled with zippered plaid and pleather, stripes, and frayed knits.

“Well,” he said. “I am inspired by many things this season, but especially a play I saw in New York.”

“What was the play?” asked Elsa, in her strange, semi-English accent.

“Rent,” he said.

To my mind, this is the exact moment when Rent jumped the shark. It was the spring of 1996. Jonathan Larson was dead. Adam Pascal was on the cover of Newsweek. Mark’s sweater was in the Chanel spring collection and cost $4,000.

I saw the show three times in subsequent years, all on the road. I loved it, but left feeling unsatisfied each time. The show was not the problem. Larson’s fervent, beautiful songs still gave me goosebumps. Angel’s death still played like a steamroller, reducing an entire theater of teenagers to sobs. The problem was the acting. No one on that stage could figure out how to escape the shadow of Rent‘s formidable, iconic original cast. Mark’s flailing was a cartoonish copy of Anthony Rapp’s quirky mannerisms. Young actors scowled and half-closed their eyes as Roger.

By this time, the show also had entered the cultural schema to the extent that its costumes and songs had become instantly recognizable, a kind of boilerplate of downtown cool. Of course, any time that happens, it becomes instantly uncool. Neil Patrick Harris didn’t just play Mark on stage—again, there was Anthony Rapp’s staccato delivery, writ large and accompanied by much wiggling of fingers. He then parodied Mark on Saturday Night Live.

In Rent’s last years in New York, I could not bring myself to go to the theater. I could not bear the thought of its returned original cast, too old now for the material, and too far inside their own performances to separate the original, honest intentions from the iconography.

So, how do you rescue that show from itself? How do you reboot the show—the original kernel of what was good and smart—and leave behind the hype? If you’re Michael Greif, the show’s original director, you blow it up and start over.

With a new production at New World Stages that opened last night, Greif has attempted to rebuild Rent from the ground up. He has cast younger actors and commissioned a new spate of costumes and sets. Regardless of what the show’s creators have said in the press, though, these things don’t feel or look particularly new. Mimi’s spandex dress in the show’s second act is the exact same spandex dress that Mimi wore on Broadway. Roger, played by Matt Shingledecker, is still doing a lot of scowling and working too hard to find the raspiest notes in his range.

There are two things in particular about this show, though, that make the price of a ticket worthwhile, and elevate this production beyond what it is—a cheapie redo of a really popular show. They are Adam Chanler-Berat as Mark, and Annaleigh Ashford as Maureen. Thanks to them, this Rent revival does feel truly new.

They achieve everything they do by cutting straight through the wreckage left by their predecessors, Anthony Rapp and Idina Menzel. Watching this Rent, you will not miss those two. You will not even think of them, in fact.

Chanler-Berat in particular achieves something so magical with his Mark. Looking almost eerily like Jonathan Larson, he finds all of Mark’s self-consciousness and touchy fear, the things that keep him isolated from his emotionally messy friends. His awakening at The Life Cafe in the show’s famous Act I closing, where the young filmmaker lets go enough to dance on a table, feels like an actual moment of transcendence and not just like another degree of a mild anxiety attack.

Ashford, too, finds a whole new way to play Mark’s flighty, gorgeous ex, Maureen. She heads straight for the comedy, and it’s a great choice. For the first time I can remember, Maureen’s performance in the 2nd Street lot is genuinely funny. And the character’s transgressions—her cheating on both Mark and Joanne—seem like the easy result of overconfidence and a distinct lack of self-awareness. You forgive her easily. Because everyone does.

The material, too, has held up well. Larson’s lovely characters – his crew of willfully impoverished East Village vagabonds – still feel vivid and poignant, their struggle pertinent. You don’t have to have the AIDS virus to understand the difficulties of finding connection in a hyper-technological, increasingly disconnected world. Try dating in New York for a couple of weeks. You’ll see that Larson’s message still resonates today.

And while this production of Rent may not be a radical revisioning of the work, it still tells its story well, and with a couple of amazingly strong performances. Karl Lagerfeld may not be rushing to put Rent’s costumes into his collections these days, but that’s probably a good thing. Mark and Roger, I think, would approve.

photo: broadwayobsession.tumblr.com

This week, The Craptacular welcome’s Jenna on board as our Special Jonas Correspondent.  You may know Jenna as JBomb11 on the Twitter, or from her writing over at E!Online’s Watch With Kristin blog.  She’s a natural brunette with an addiction to Sweet Stripes who taught The Mick to use the word boner.

Full disclosure? I love me some Nick Jonas. I’ve been that creepy cougar lusting for him since he was about 17 and started looking like this. Seriously? What 17 year old looks like that?

But I digress. (Only to regress later, I’m sure).

When it was announced that my former jailbait Jonas was going to star as Link Larkin in Hairspray at the Hollywood Bowl, I knew I was going. And sure enough, August 6 rolled around there I was with my friend Tee, settling into a box seat not far from the stage. Mr. and Mrs. Jonas were two boxes over, just waiting for me to introduce myself as their future daughter-in-law. I’ll marry Joe or Nick. Doesn’t matter.

The Mick is one of my dear friends, and she teaches me all about Broadway: the notes that are hard to hit, who sucks and succeeds in which roles, etc.  Thanks to her I knew who Jonathan Groff was before Glee and she took me to see Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson twice in one weekend, so she definitely takes care of me, theater-wise.

Basically, I’m not going to pretend that I’m any Broadway expert. I can pretend to be a bunny, but that’s just an adorable little impression I do. I’m just a fan of theater, lucky enough to witness Nick Jonas in a hunky role. And I love Hairspray, so I was basically ready for a standard, fun evening of musical theater with a Jonas bonus.

What I got was a little more than standard fun. It was a learning experience, and after Nick Jonas gave his last shimmy shake to “You Can’t Stop the Beat,” I’ve got some new knowledge nuggets to store in the ol’ memory bank:

Nick Jonas Can Dance: Not in the Justin Timberlake way that his brother Joe is trying (and failing) to mimic, but in the “I worked really hard and want to nail this” kind of way. Nick was sharp most of the time, nailing each choreographed piece with his overachieving gusto, but it was the moments where he clearly threw in some fun that he really shined. Some hip thrusts here and there during “It Takes Two.” A fun little flip before “You Can’ Stop the Beat.” A certain swagger as he shimmied across the stage between rehearsed group numbers. I loved that he cared enough to know his choreography backwards and forwards, but when he went off the straight and narrow…he looked like a seasoned pro. Which, really, he is I mean, check out his swag during “It Takes Two” and try not to pop a chub.

Corbin Bleu Can Also Dance: But we knew that from the High School Musical movies. Still, if you didn’t notice his talent as a dancer in those Disney flicks, you’ll notice now. That kid made Seaweed’s choreography look like an improvised dance battle. Like, “I’m just gonna move through this complicated routine like it ain’t no thang.” And huzah! It truly was “no thang” for him. I love watching people who kill a role without even looking like they’re breaking a sweat.

Wait. So She’s That Chick From American Idol? Told you I was a Broadway amateur. I didn’t even know who was playing what part before going to see Hairspray! I know Diana DeGarmo is no stranger to the stage, and we all know how Lucky and The Mick felt about her in Hair. But she stole this show. It could easily have just been the role of Penny Pingleton, which is tailor made to be all kinds of ridiculous. But I loved what she did with it. You could tell she was having an absolute blast playing Penny. And we weren’t distracted by her big vocals until the end, and by then, we were eager for that burst of vocal power from DeGarmo.

Glee Must Have Stolen John Stamos’ Soul: Because as Corny Collins, he was phoning it in at best. Look, he’s very attractive. He’s got a smooth voice. And Stamos will always have a certain sexy vibe. But my eyes were not interested in following him when he spoke or did…anything. He really could have just been a voice over dude. Which sucks, because I enjoyed him on Glee, and I felt like he could have had more fun in the role. It was more like “I’m saying a line…now I’m saying another line. And here’s another one.” Ditto for Drew Carey as Wilbur Turnblad, but no one cares about that role much anyway. Oh, well. Back to watching Nick Jonas stand in the corner and react to something.

Originals Stick Out Like an Awesome Thumb: I wasn’t aware until reading the program that Harvey Fierstein and Marissa Jaret Winokur were originally Edna and Tracy Turnblad in the Broadway production. But I could have made that deduction myself during the show. Clearly, the original cast members were driving this Hairspray train, and every other cast member was along for the ride. Overall, I just really enjoyed Winkour and Fierstein’s near flawless performance. After all those performances together on Broadway, I guess it would be embarrassing if they weren’t nailing their parts. But thank Groff they had originals in the two of the biggest roles, because the production probably would’ve just been “meh” without them.

I also hear this production had little rehearsal time, so any issues with chemistry can be chalked up to that, right? Bottom line, I give Hairspray‘s Hollywood Bowl production a solid B+. Wait, how do musicals get rated? I give it four stars out of five. Two thumbs up. An 8 out of 10. Will someone tell me how the hell to grade the show?

Whatever, I fucking liked it a lot.

Photo: SocialiteLife.com

I should feel guilty about how quickly the son of god has taken over my sexual fantasies. I do not. Thank you, Hunter Parrish. As the only person on earth who could credibly follow in the wake of Jonathan Groff’s handsomeness, Hunter Parrish won legions of (breathless, overheated) fans as Melchior Deuce in Spring Awakening and then promptly peaced out to rejoin his hit TV show, abandoning Broadway forever.

OR NOT.

Because now he’s playing Jesus in this season’s revival of Godspell. Welcome back, Hunter. And thanks for showing us that there’s still hope for Patrick Wilson and Ben Walker. P.S. We’re moving into the theater. And never wearing underwear again.

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Hunter Parrish is so sweet he's bringing you some ice cream.

Hunter Parrish just eye fucked the shit out of you in a book store.

Hunter Parrish would look this good on your couch, too.

We don't know why Hunter Parrish would ever put a shirt on either.

• Wow. Flexibility is awesome! Too bad I can’t even touch my toes.
• These fools would come in handy if I ever wanted to pull off my own Oceans 11-style heist.
• Spider-Man wasted a lot of money on sets and rigging and insanity, given that this shit cost max about 1/70^th of that mess of a musical and it’s 100 bazillion times more compelling.
• Holy shit I am so nervous and amped up for these guys that I am actually sweating bullets right now.

And I was.  Sweating, I mean.  Approximately ¾ of the way through the 90 minute show, the cast was doing a series of tumbling stunts.  Flipping and leaping and contorting their bodies, one by one they soared through an increasingly tall and unstable stack of hoops while a pulse beat loudly through the sound system and an EKG was displayed across the back wall.  By the time they’d stacked on the fourth hoop—they’d eventually get to five, I think. Or maybe six?—I was really, really hot.  And anxious.

Which is funny.  Because this was probably one of the less risky tricks the cast had performed all night. They were not dropping from an insane height with nothing but their own muscles to stop them, or being tossed 20 feet into the air by a companion as they flipped and twisted more times than I could count, landing on their feet in someone’s hands.  But that’s the thing about Traces.  They know how to build suspense.  How to pull you to the edge of your seat and make you actually care about the outcome of this feat of physical strength, dexterity, grace and precision.

My favorite number featured the lone female cast member, Valérie Benoît-Charbonneau, performing feats of derring-do with her nose buried in a book.  Flipping, rolling, performing handstands on a dilapidated old armchair, scarcely taking her eyes off the words.  It was such a bright, exciting performance—seriously, one child exclaimed “This is funny!” during the number—perhaps in particular because it so beautifully mirrored the squirmy, joyous feeling you get when you pick up a truly wonderful book.

After the show, in a bar, I attempted to explain exactly what Traces was.  Circus.  But on a human scale.  Circus that was as much about the humanity of the performers as it was about their physical prowess.  And there was dance, and street performance.  Piano playing.  Parkour.  Skateboarding. Basketball.  It was hard to capture Traces in words.  Damn near impossible.

At the end of the day, it was compelling.  Unexpectedly, unbelievably so.  The performance doesn’t just land well, it connects.  In an age where the spectacle of theater often risks supplanting the humanity of the art and the artists, Traces is decidedly low on flashy technology and tricks and high on real, human emotion.

Oh.  And all the cast members are hot and their bodies are sick. But that kind of goes without saying.

Ticket provided by The Hartman Group.

Photo: Michael Meseke

The recent revival of Rent at New World Stages (opens August 11) got us thinking about something we clearly never think about: good looking men in theater, and the good looking characters they play. Here we bring you our favorite hotties in musicals. No, like… the fictional ones. If you have favorites that we missed, please do share your heartfelt personal stories of devotion in the comments…

Roger in Rent

Why is Roger hot you ask? Well, let’s make a quick list. A) Because every girl loves a guy with a drug problem and a troubled past. (No, but really.) 2) Because he’s a musician who wears leather and writes love songs. III) Because he’s the first guy you ever saw in a musical who is hot in the same way the boys you love in your real (post 1980s) life are hot.  And even though his love songs are kind of bad, it’s impossible to care.  Because you just want to take him in your arms and kiss away his problems. Or something like that.  Obviously it’s your love that will save him.

Fiyero in Wicked

Remember back in literature when Fiyero was supposed to be kind of odd looking? Yeah, neither do we. And neither does Aaron Tveit. So handsome that he even transcends several pairs of high-waisted, lycra-blend pants, Fiyero wins brownie points for loving Elphaba for who she really is, despite being a dick for like the whole first act. For this, he has won a decade of fangirl adoration. He’s also kept some cute people employed, and spared us some more songs from Boq and the goat man or whatever, and we can’t argue with that.

Enjolras in Les Miserables

If Les Miserables is history’s first boyband, Marius is clearly Justin Timberlake, Grantaire is A.J. McLean, and Gavroche is Justin Bieber. But Enjolras? Enjolras is J.C. Chasez – the smoothest, loveliest, noblest creature on the barricade. He has the moves, the looks, and the charisma to inspire an army. Turn on the wind machine and get ready to march in slow-mo, baby, because it is time for the revolution. In your pants. Victor Hugo’s character, as written, had no mistress and stayed a virgin for France. Like Joe Jonas, only different. But having heard the way Aaron Lazar (or Anthony Warlow, or Ramin Karimloo) sang “Do You Hear the People Sing?” we think the character in the musical had some distinctly different motivations.

Gabe in Next to Normal

Okay. So technically he wasn’t even real.  But Gabe was so handsome that even though he was just a figment of her imagination, he tempted his own mother into a weird oedipal relationship.  Also, he was in his underwear at one point.  And he pole danced for the audience for a hot minute.  These things were probably totes unnecessary and inaprops, but, like… That’s what you do when you have a hot character on your hands, right?  We never heard anyone complain.

Tony in West Side Story

So the best part of West Side Story is when Tony and Maria fuck on the bedroom floor. Wait, that doesn’t happen? No, shut up! It does happen! OK, so it happens offstage, but it most definitely happens. Just ask the women who sat next to us at the recent revival. They knew it happened, because when the lights came up and Tony stood there wearing nothing but his underwear, they started hollering like they were at Thunder From Down Under. (Thanks, Matt Cavenaugh. And your biceps, too.) More sensitive than his thug homeboys, more insightful than the grownups around him, Tony is our forward-thinking, self-sacrificing hero. And in that amazing bedroom scene, he’s apparently Maria’s too.

Melchior in Spring Awakening

This young hottie wasn’t troubled, exactly.  At least at first.  He was just a sensitive, deep-thinking rebel who looked bangin’ in a pair of knickers and some Converse sneakers.  In the 1890s.  Mr. Gabor was so hot h even convinced Wendla she wanted to have sex with him when she didn’t even know what sex was.  And really, who can blame her?  We’d abandon all sorts of morals for that radical Hottie McHotpants any day.

Giorgio in Passion

The men in Sondheim’s musicals tend to be too head case-y for hotness, but Giorgio is a grand exception. He’s beautiful. He’s sensitive. He likes to read. What’s not to love, besides his obsessive superficiality and his distinct tendency toward mental illness? While simultaneously carrying firearms? I mean, sure it makes no sense. But as a wise man once said, “Love within reason, that isn’t love.”

Curly in Oklahoma!

So the last time we saw Curly on Broadway he was played by Patrick Wilson.  Who took over for Hugh Jackman.  And any character who has been played by those two men is clearly like, the hottest thing ever to roam the plains of Oklahoma (sorry, Taylor Hanson).  Plus, he looks real good in a neckercheif.  And he can throw hay around.  Or throw you around in the hay.  You know, whichever you prefer.  Plus, he’s chivalrous, and willing to defend you from psycho crazies.  These are all good things, in our book.

Chris in Miss Saigon

The heat was indeed on in Saigon, and not because of all the half-naked girls, mon cher. Sargent Christopher Scott was kind of a disloyal dope in the end, but wow he looked good with his shirt off. And yeah, you cried your face off during that “Why God, Why” reprise when he started throwing the couch around. Played by basically every exceptionally good looking actor of our times (Patrick Wilson, Steven Pasquale, Jarrod Emick, Will Chase, Ramin Karimloo, Matt Bogart, John Barrowman), the character of Chris became a kind of benchmark of musical theater hotness. If you were Chris, everyone on earth wanted to go to bed with you. Which I guess is how Chris got himself into all that trouble in the first place…

Andrew Jackson in Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson

Oh shiiit, you didn’t think we forgot President Sexypants, now did you?!  Of course not.  We’re just saving the best for last.  And clearly, he’s the best.  Because there was an enormous ass on the billboard.  And the tagline was “History Just Got All Sexypants.”  And Mr. Jackson (if you’re nasty) gave a lapdance to one lucky audience member every night of the week.  And even blood-soaked and whining like a bitch he was so hot you wanted to peel his tight, tight jeans off with your teeth and go to town.  It is literally impossible to make this list without him.

Jonathan Groff told us it wasn’t happening months ago, in an interview. And he knows everything there is to know on planet earth, obviously, so we weren’t shocked when we heard Lea Michele was officially out for the 2012 revival of Funny Girl.  Still, we must confess, Lauren Ambrose isn’t the first name that came to mind when scheming up another actress to take the part.  But according to today’s news, she’s our girl.

Riddle us this, dear readers…

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Video: Evan Palazzo

You know what sucks about seeing Matt Morrison on stage these days? You know, onstage at Nassau Colisseum — like we did on Sunday night — and not, say, at the Neil Simon Theatre.

It makes you want to go to your happy place and visualize the last time you saw him ON STAGE. Like, when he was playing Lieutenant Cable in South Pacific or Fabrizio in The Light in the Piazza. Because Matt is righteously handsome, and his hips move real good, and he sings like a beast, but whatever it is he’s doing on the stage in front of all those shrieking women, it’s not what he does best.

In fairness, he sure got a lot of attention, especially for an opening act. (Matt is the warmup act for the New Kids on the Block/Backstreet Boys this summer.) We’ve never actually seen that many asses in their seats for an opener. Really. Never.

But his act conjures an uncomfortable feeling. It’s like being on stage as Matt Morrison doesn’t suit Matt Morrison nearly as well as being on stage as someone else.

For the past few days, in an attempt to figure out what is going on with Mr. Morrison, we’ve been asking some of life’s most important questions.  Below, a selection of those questions and other various concerns:

1. What awful thing did Matt do in a past life that has taken him from Broadway star to TV star to… this? Matt’s singing Simon and Garfunkel covers and soft-shoeing. At the same time.  Do these things work together in this context?  Or any context?  Clearly some savvy record company guy thought they would, because alas, this is the community theater/cover band vibe of Matt’s live show.  They even threw one of Michael Buble’s old costumes in there for good measure.
2. Why do these proceedings make Matt seem like a tool? Matt’s not a tool! Matt is Link Larkin! Ok, bad example, but you know what we mean.
3. Who thought that a Gene Kelly/Michael Jackson/Patrick Swayze dance medley was a great idea? Matt Morrison?  Someone else?  Matt Morrison?  Whatever the case, he lists these guys as his heroes and then follows up by pirouetting/moonwalking/tapping for a couple of minutes. He also calls them all triple threats which is… incongruous. And not true. And both of those things.
4. What the hell is this song about Mr. Schuester? And how it’s hard to be Mr. Schuester? And also simultaneously hard to be Matt Morrison? It’s called “My Name” and it’s about Matt’s impending and/or ongoing Glee identity crisis. But if Matt’s having a Glee-related identity crisis, why does his act play like Mr. Schue Live?
5. Why is Matt Morrison being solidly outsung in a major American concert venue by Joey McIntyre? If you thought that the New Kids on the Block couldn’t possibly compete with the pipes of a trained Broadway performer, think again. The NKOTB have one of their own. Lieutenant Cable vs. Fiyero is, as it turns out, a fair fight, and it’s not looking good for Matt.
6. Why is there a tambourine solo? Anywhere on earth? For any reason?

The humidity in NYC got us hot and bothered this week. Here’s the theater news we’ll be discussing while we’re huddled inside with cool towels on our foreheads like swoony southern belles…

• This week, for a hot minute, The Craptacular went big time. Indeed, it was the New York Times.  Lucky riffed on the idea of pre-show announcements infringing on her theatrical experience for the ArtsBeat blog. The Mick is so proud she may or may not have screen-capped the entire NYTimes.com website several times over.  Check out the original post, then join in the debate!
• Broadway Stands Up for Freedom — or as our attorney friend called it, Lawyers & Broadway — happened this week. A benefit for the NYCLU, the event also served as a celebration of New York’s shiny new marriage equality law. Highlights? Nikki M. James, who knocked “Be a Lion” out of the park so soundly that we wondered if she’d be interested in playing Dorothy in a Broadway revival of The Wiz; Gavin Creel, who wore a Texas tuxedo and stubble and no one cared because he continued to look like the most gorgeous person on earth; the insanely delightful Lindsay Mendez (amazing dress, girl!) who sang the equally delightful Kerrigan and Lowdermilk song “Hand in Hand.”; and Seth Rudetsky, who always makes us giggle until we pee. Excellent times, for an excellent cause. 
• In case you weren’t convinced, Glee creator Ryan Murphy has full-on lost his mind and is now saying that Lea Michele, Cory Monteith, and Chris Colfer were going to star in a really excellent spinoff, but now they’re not. Because YOU RUINED EVERYTHING, YOU HORRIBLE FANS, by freaking out about their departure from the show. Hear that? Stop freaking out! Stop caring about stuff! God, just shut up and go away, you horrible people whose very existence guarantees the future of the show.
• An Evening with Patti and Mandy comes to Broadway.  Or so the rumors say. Actually, it’s An Evening With Patti LuPone and Mandy Patinkin.  But we like to shorten it, so that it sounds like a musical about two teenage besties having an epic sleepover.  We bet Mandy Patinkin would love that.  Regardless, we hope it comes to Broadway for real.  Because I would pay a lot of money to see that, even though it doesn’t involve hot guys.
• The Alicia Keys-produced play Stick Fly got a new theater this week. No, another new theater. Originally slated for the pillbox-sized Lyceum, it’s now going to be at the slightly-bigger-but-not-really Cort. 
• American theatrical genius Tony Kushner will write Steven Spielberg’s upcoming film about Lincoln. That simply cannot be topped, you say. Well, sure it can. It will also feature the exceptionally handsome Lee Pace, late of The Normal Heart. With this development, he joins the starry pantheon of Broadway Stars Who Have Been in Movies About Abraham Lincoln, which currently only contains one other person — Jonathan Groff.
• Bonnie & Clyde has a website! With music! And it sounds terrible! Big surprise, right? 

• Justin Bartha, currently starring in Zack Braff’s All New People (and some of our more vivid dreams), has just been cast in The Social Network star Jesse Eisenberg’s new play, Asuncion.  In our opinion this really ups his nerd credibility—you know, by working for a real nerd and not just a pretend nerd—and, well, makes us love him all the more.  Now, here’s to hoping the play doesn’t suck…

Do we smell a new promotional trend for rock musicals?

Behold: The mildly uncomfortable rock band/theater cast combo music video!

The first one we noticed was the Green Day/American Idiot version of “21 Guns”, which features the cast singing in the studio, “We Are the World”-style. Because that’s what rockstars do.

The second is this gem, courtesy of Spider-Man: Turn Off the Dark, which gives us many, many shots of the blissfully photogenic Reeve Carney doing lots of things. Pouting, looking adorably tortured, rehearsing some dance fights, cuddling with Jennifer Damiano. (Extra points for encouraging the Reeve-n-Jen-are-dating rumor, guys. We love it.) Of course, it’s cut with footage of wise old Grandfather Bono and Uncle The Edge walking around in a dark room like they’ve never met that Reeve character before in their lives and aren’t too pleased that he’s singing their song. Also. Why is it snowing?

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