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Oh Hunter, how quaint.  A Facebook page exhorting the universe to “Give the Tonys Back to Broadway!”?

Yes.  Let’s get angry about the fact that Jay-Z and his mega-watt wife got more screen time than Barbara Cook and her Mumu and her subpar Sondheim review.  And let’s rail against the injustice of giving Jets Quarterback Mark Sanchez the privilege of handing out an award instead of… you?

Because that’s the real problem here.  The heinous injustice of a network trying to run a profitable program that, incidentally, gives the theater world and this struggling art-form the national exposure it might never otherwise achieve.  Wouldn’t want anyone who isn’t truly dedicated to theater to stumble upon this program and perhaps consider seeing a show.  That’d be a nightmare.

I’m not saying I didn’t think Sanchez was totally out-of-place and frankly, not that noteworthy.  And I’m not saying I want to see every Hollywood starlet who ever got bored stumbling across the New York Stage and usurping jobs from credible theater focused actresses.

What I’m really saying, I guess, is that a watered down, ratings-driven telecast is the least of our problems.  (And let’s be real.  A Facebook page whose real purpose isn’t entirely clear—you’ve already had to clarify your intentions at least once—isn’t going to help anyone anyway.)

The real problem is that the Tony Awards have come to represent what is perceived as safe and palatable and potentially profitable.  That instead of rewarding art for its merit, we’re awarding it for…  what?  Its ability to possibly stay open if you give it a big enough award?  Its ability to not offend too many people or provoke too much thought and sound kind of passably okay in the process?

The real problem isn’t a watered-down telecast.  It’s watered down awards.  Because when you disallow critics from the voting pool, you foster an Old-Boys-Club mentality which leads to awards that are less about excellence and more about which show has more investors in the voting pool that year.  And the Tony Awards become increasingly meaningless at the same time as they encourage the investment in and creation of sub-par theater that takes no risks and thus, slips closer and closer to cultural irrelevance every single day.

But by all means, please, keep complaining about the fact that you have to hang out with too many mainstream celebrities on Tony night and you and Marc Kudisch aren’t getting enough screen time.  That should really help our struggling art-form.  Just like Million Dollar Quartet has really pushed the boundaries of the… jukebox musical…

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Johnny Gallagher Explains

Oh hey. Our favorite smart/sensitive boy turned 26 today.

How did we celebrate? By thinking about all our emotions, buying some vinyl at a 400% markup on Bleecker St., listening to some alt-country, and pegging our jeans. Or something.

Anyway, we love Johnny Gallagher. We love his brains and his moody, critically-acclaimed, Tony-winning performances and his big dorky glasses and his messy hair. We love that he makes Lea Michele and Jonathan Groff 33% more cool by proxy. We love his various bands and his moderately inappropriate, in-character eyeliner. We love that Green Day are, in his words, his heroes. And we love that he’s different. And we love that girls love that he’s different.

Happy sort-of-belated Galls. And yes, we like calling you Galls.

And we bet your friend Billie Joe Armstrong does, too.

Happy 26. We have no idea what heaven feels like, really, but having you around in the meantime is probably a pretty sweet approximation.

Photo: BroadwayWorld

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Ten Things about the 2010 Tony Awards

Marian Seldes Wanders Around

The locally-televised Tony preshow is a strange creature to begin with. There’s no real host and no live music. Most people are seeing many of the winners’ faces for the first time. So you can image how odd it got when actress Marian Seldes, accepting a lifetime achievement award during this year’s preshow, simply got up on stage, gave a weird little smile, and walked off without saying a word. Some called it a classy, humble move. The effect if you were watching at home, however, was so ill-suited to television and so weirdly timed, that it seemed like anything but. Seldes looked more confused and bewildered than anything else, like she’d wandered onto the wrong stage on the wrong day. It made for some pretty fascinating entertainment, but it also made me think, “And this is why they don’t include this in the national telecast.”

Gimpy Karen Olivo

When actress Karen Olivo, still injured from a performance of West Side Story, hobbled onstage to host this year’s preshow, we all gasped a little. Fitted with a crutch and a massive cast around her foot, she seemed anything but suited to the task of like… standing around for a while. Which is exactly what her job entailed.

You Go to the Tonys and a Green Day Concert Breaks Out

Sure, it was a little inappropriate. But that’s the whole point of being Green Day, right? Ten minutes into the national telecast, the original casts of all the nominated shows all stepped aside and Green Day played half a set. It was ridiculously out of place, really energetic and loud, and basically awesome—a loving middle finger to an organization that wouldn’t recognize American Idiot with nominations, but was happy to use its composers to boost their ratings. The cast were relegated to backup singers. The audience looked really confused. And for a few minutes, American theater woke the fuck up. Of course, then Memphis started winning and it went right back to sleep, but we’ll take that five minutes, and pray that we get more of them in the future.

Denzel Gets Kind of Uncharacteristically Rude and Flustered

What happened to Denzel Washington? I remember his polished, moving Oscar speeches. At the Tonys, however, he just seemed kind of unfocused during his thank you speech, and struggled to think of what to call the folks who, you know, voted for him. It was probably just a mistake, but it gave the odd impression that Denzel doesn’t really get this whole Broadway thing, and further anchored the impression that Hollywood actors are a little clueless and stuck up about doing 8 shows a week. Scarlett Johansson and Catherine Zeta-Jones, on the other hand, seemed genuinely humble and happy about being recognized, despite their fish-out-of-water status.

Matt Morrison Just Sang on Your TV Without Auto-Tune

And he sounded good.  In fact, Morrison’s performance, sans-computer generated pitch correcting, was even better than any Glee number of his I’ve ever seen.  Maybe the Tonys producers can pass the Glee producers a few notes on how to handle Matt Morrison properly, because all that auto-tune does him no service.  (Same goes for Jon Groff, actually.)  It was refreshing, nay, exciting, to get a reminder of why we all love Matt Morrison so much in the first place.

Also Starring… Jonathan Groff

Jonathan Groff’s appearance at the Tonys wasn’t exactly shocking.  He’s a Tony nominated actor who is about to open a show on the West End—he belongs there.  Plus, days earlier, Lea Michele not so subtly hinted that she’d be bringing him as her date.  But Jonathan got a lot more screen time than expected for someone neither presenting, nor performing, nor nominated, when they moved him to an aisle seat for Lea’s performance of “Don’t Rain on my Parade.”  Jesse St. James and Rachel Berry, together at last!  And on a rival network!  Honestly… what was CBS thinking?  I mean, I love seeing Jonanthan Groff on my TV and all, but the amount of Glee promotion that occurred at this year’s awards ceremony was crazy—prompting NY Magazine to declare Glee the ceremony’s biggest winters—especially for a network that doesn’t air the show or profit from a boost in its ratings.  I know, I know, CBS was just trying to boost the ratings of the Tonys broadcast itself by shoving as much mainstream star-power into the schedule as possible, but this all just seemed incongruous to me.  No matter how much I love the Groff.

Sean Hayes Runs at Your Screen Dressed Like Spider Man and Singing Like Barbara (Almost)

Welcome to the funniest moment of the entire damn show, and perhaps Sean Hayes’ most epic moment of comic genius since Will and Grace took its final network bow.  When he came tearing down the aisle dressed as the comic book super hero, attempting to sing like one of the theater community’s real-live heroes, Mr. Hayes proved how perfectly suited he was for the Tonys hosting gig.  Though Hayes had already shown a remarkable lack of pride and willingness to do almost anything for the sake of a good joke (his Billy Elliot joke was so good he didn’t even have to open his mouth, the costume earned uproarious laughter on its own), the Spider Man joke also showed a keen awareness of the Broadway community, present and future, and hit all the right notes.  So, bravo, Mr. Hayes!  We’re glad to have you here on the Great White Way.

Catherine Zeta-Jones has Verbal Diarrhea

I confess, I was momentarily disappointed to hear Catherine Zeta-Jones’ name called.  This was partly because I was rooting for Sherie Rene Scott, and partly because I’d witnessed CZJ’s weird, angry-Stevie-Wonder-esque performance of “Send in the Clowns” earlier in the show.  But within about two seconds, she’d won me over with her genuine shock and honest appreciation for the award she’d just been presented with.  Maybe you could say other performances were more deserving.  But at least CZJ showed heartfelt understanding of the honor that had just been bestowed upon her, unlike, say, Denzel Washington.  I loved her dress, her cooky, way too honest acceptance speech, and her parents in the first row right beside her.  I loved that she loved Broadway and the Tonys as much as I do.  After my disappointment wore off, in fact, all I can say is that I just love Catherine Zeta-Jones.

The Women Win All the Hottie Awards

Is it just me, or were all the hottest looking people at that ceremony card-carrying, bona fide, adult women?  I don’t mean adult in the same way that my twenty-something rear-end is supposed to be adult.  No, I mean women in the 40+ age demographic.  Kristin Chenoweth wore a skirt so short even I wouldn’t dare go near it, and she looked bangin’. Viola Davis’ outrageously sculpted biceps and triceps ignited a fire of envy in my heart (as did her absolutely stunning vivid green dress).  Jesus, even Idina Menzel’s mom looked hotter (and younger) than Idina.  Between all these foxy older women, and Angela Lansbury’s svelte, 84-year-old figure (a  knockout in fire-engine red), I feel really good about my future.

Memphis

It wasn’t unexpected, but the multiple wins for Memphis, including the win for Best Musical, still left a bad taste for all kinds of reasons. Here’s the main one: The show isn’t very good. An oversimplified, weirdly-paced, over-performed, borderline racist show about the early days of rock and roll, Memphis hardly leaves a mark after you leave the theater—except to make you wonder what in the world just happened, and whose reality you just witnessed, for the last two hours. Both Fela! And American Idiot tell their stories more deftly, with a better sense of history, and with way better songs. So what the hell happened? Chalk it up to Tony voter conservatism, and the odd idea that a musical can and should be only one thing—and an outmoded thing at that—and voila. Memphis wins best musical.

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Tony Awards Spotlight, Part 4 of 4

Because you’re my favorite semi-semi-star on Broadway right now. And that’s saying something, since I had approximately zero interest in you when I walked into the American Airlines Theater this past March to see Everyday Rapture. Unlike, say, Broadwayislove09@earthlink.net, I was not on the Sherie Rene Scott bandwagon,

But I am now. Your show, with its honest portrayal of adolescence, faith, womanhood—and the struggles that accompany us as we navigate those roads—won me over. It was so good, so moving, that I cried. A lot. And I mean, honestly, I only went with Lucky because the tickets were dirt cheap and, well, why not? So. To win me over on a week night only a day after I’d gotten a lap dance from Benjamin Walker, and become my second favorite show of the season (Sorry, Mr. Walker and Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson are still tops in my heart. I mean, have you seen him?!) …that’s saying something.

I think you’re more deserving than any actress on Broadway right now. Because you took something of your own creation and made it Tony-worthy, improbable as it seems on paper. So you win the Tony of My Heart, and if Tony voters have half a brain, you’ll win the Tony of Real Life, too.

Credit: Sh-K-Boom Records

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Levi Kreis is Smoldering at You

Tony Awards Spotlight, Part 3 of 4

Hey Levi, what’s up? If my heart gave Tony Awards, you’d be weighed down by a sticky-with-goo-and-plasma lump of silver with a little spinning disc on top.

Because Million Dollar Quartet was supposed to totally suck, and thanks to you, it didn’t. Actually, it kind of sucked anyway, but only kind of. And that’s saying something in a season where people are loving Memphis.

Truth is, though, that we adored your performance as Jerry Lee Lewis for its pathos and mile-a-minute energy. And because of its delicious go-for-broke quality, like you totally understand that if you’re going to be a rockstar, the spit has got to fly and the girls have got to squeal. Plus, you play the piano. And you know how we feel about men who play the piano. (It’s been like seven years, and we still get a little blushy at the mention of Michael Cavanaugh’s name.) And you also have a really, really huge Jesus tattoo, which is surprisingly badass.

The best news? The Tony Award of My Heart doesn’t even really matter—sort of like the Drama Desk Awards—because you’re probably going to win the actual Tony, which is really cool. Unless all those crazy voters decide to give Bobby Steggert an award for a show that wasn’t even on Broadway at all, which could happen, because those people are insane. But still. We think you have a decent shot, and nothing makes us happier.

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Golden-Throated Kate Baldwin

Tony Awards Spotlight, Part 2 of 4

Here’s the thing, Kate. I don’t really love old-time-y musical theater. I would never put on the OBC of The Music Man or Mame for a little afternoon easy listening. I think Liza is fine, but I don’t obsess, and while me and Barbara Cook don’t fight out in the open, we’re not exactly on great terms right now. I tend to prefer the shows, songs and actors of my life and times. I know a lot of theater aficionados would consider that pretty cheeseball and low-rent, but that’s the truth.

But, oh Kate. My darling Kate.

Your pale-and-peachy, nary-a-ripple-on-the-surface, golden soprano thing makes me yearn for another era, when every girl in every show was supposed to sound like you. Your vintage-y vibe helped anchor the monumentally weird Finian’s Rainbow in a place and time, and we’re still a little dreamy-eyed over your rendition of “How Are Things in Glocamora?” because we’re not entirely sure, even now, if you’ve ever hit a bum note in your life.

Whether you win the actual award or not, we’ll be raising a glass to you—and to the triumph of steely redheads everywhere—on Tony night.

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Tony Awards Spotlight, Part 1 of 4

Look at him, he's too adorable for real life.

That’s right, Mr. Steggert, you’re my winner.  And this is a big award.  So, I hope you have a good speech prepared.

…Have I mentioned that I didn’t even see Ragtime?  Because I didn’t.  On purpose.  (Sorry, just not into that show.)

But I did see Yank! this year.  And there’s just… something about you.  In a way (a weird/amazing way) you remind me of Sutton Foster.  Because at first sight, you are easy to underestimate, looking like a boy who grew up down the block from me.  From everyone.  But then you open your mouth and you are instantly remarkable.  You become beautiful.  You grow more and more compelling with each note, each line, each nuanced facial expression.

So, whether or not your nomination is for Ragtime, you get the Best Supporting Actor Tony of My Heart.  Good luck on Sunday night.

Credit: Broadwayworld.com

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Passing Time Before Hair at the Gielgud.

When we finally booked our trip to London—the one we’d been talking about for longer than I can remember—I knew that my itinerary would have to include a pilgrimage to the Gielgud Theater for a performance of Hair. To be honest, for me, that notched a higher spot on the list than just about anything, including a daytrip to Stonehenge.

Not long after 10:30 am on Thursday morning I left the box office, big fat ticket in hand, hoping and praying for all kinds of wonderful, crazy things to happen in that theater. After all, I’d promised to report back to you, our readers, on all kinds of shenanigans. Frankly, I had a good feeling about this. I already knew the show was going to be epic. I had known that ever since my random run-in with Will Swenson and Audra McDonald at Shakspeare’s Globe Theater earlier in the week (“Is that Berger?” my friend had asked, spotting him in his front row seat.). Even on the other side of the pond I was running into those fools in unexpected places. This was a good sign.

And let me tell you, the show didn’t disappoint. Shenanigans abounded. A man in the front row reached up under Will’s loincloth to make contact with a really, uh… sensitive region and Darius dove over two women to motorboat me during “Ain’t Got No” and Gavin had to run off stage to cough a lot or vomit or something during “Hair,” forcing Steel to attempt to cover Claude’s part for the remainder of the song. And then there were the performances—Caissie’s softer, more modulated, even more powerful “Easy to be Hard,” Gavin just singing the shit out of every note that came his way—better and more exciting than I’d seen in so, so long.

It was wonderful. But after the show I was left with… quiet sadness.

This was the last thing I had expected. I had expected to leave buzzing with things to write about, fairly overflowing with tales to tell my friends that night. What I ended up with was a farewell.

As I left the Gielgud I knew, in my bones, that no matter how many opportunities I might have to catch a performance of Hair again, I had just seen my final show. A day before the West End production’s closing was announced, weeks before its Broadway predecessor would finally fold, Hair‘s run in my heart ended.

It wasn’t the show—Gavin’s notes were no less staggering, the cast’s commitment no less moving, the content no less emotional—no, it was me. Something in me had changed. Hair no longer occupied the same central space in the landscape of my life. It had served its purpose, held me up when I needed it, and now I could let it go. I already had let it go.

I left the theater sad. They very same sad I’d been once, years ago, when I saw RENT again after a six year hiatus and realized it was no longer mine. Still, I’m glad I never went to Stonehenge. I’m glad I made my pilgrimage to the Gielgud and saw that show, that unbelievable cast, one last time. There, across the Atlantic Sea, not so far from Manchester England, England, I bid Hair farewell. I found my closure. I will probably always miss this production, always love this show. But I was fortunate enough to give it a really special send-off in my heart and in my life. I hope you all get the very same chance before the curtain goes down on that oriental carpeted stage its final time.

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Bloody Bloody Benjamin Walker Desktop

Yeah, I did it.

This morning, after I regained consciousness, I immediately started designing a new Bloody Bloody Benjamin Walker themed desktop. Because obviously I needed one. I mean, let’s be real, who doesn’t want to stare at that image all day when they should be working?

Then, when I finished my little masterpiece and stepped back to take a look, it just seemed cruel to keep all this bloody hotness to myself.

Who knows if I’ll ever share my design skills (harhar) like this again, but, feel free to hit our Flikr page (just click here or on the image above), go to the “All Sizes” page and right click to download the desktop for yourself. If that’s not big enough for you, you can download the largest size here. And hey, feel free to comment and let me know if you’re downloading it. I’m kind of curious 😉

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Weekend Agenda: What We’ll Be Talking About

1. Nick Jonas is cast as Marius in the West End production of Les Miserables.  Teenyboppers finish screaming and immediately take a hammer to their piggy banks.  Adults ask who he is again.

2. Alice Ripley announces her final Broadway performance date in Next to Normal and…wait a minute…the universe didn’t explode?

3. Marin Mazzie and Jason Danieley are tapped to step into the roles of Diana and Dan Goodman in Next to Normal. Every news outlet ever makes a point of noting they are married in real life.  We make a point of wondering whether this pseudo-stunt casting will turn out well.

4.  Steel Burkhardt is promoted to Berger and the Mick misses his first performance by mere days.  I will still be bitching about this when I’m sixty.

5. Phantom of the Opera is being released to schools.  Parents of teenage-theater geeks brace themselves for some really blood-curdling high notes from young Christine Daae’s, stock up on earplugs.

6. Hair announces that its final performance on the West End will be September 4, 2010. Fear grips our fan girl hearts—what does this mean for… well, you know what.  And you had the same panic-stricken thought we did.

7. Nick Jonas is cast as—wait a tick…I listed that already, didn’t I? Forgive me. I’m just really distressed by this. He sings through his nose!

8. Zach Braff returns to the New York stage this summer in Paul Weitz’s “dark comedy” Trust. Thank God it’s not Garden State: The Musical.

9. Elaine Stritch and Bernadette Peters are said to be in talks to replace Angela Lansbury and Catherine Zeta-Jones, respectively, in A Little Night Music.  This is awesome. Except. The show is closing on June 20th, so…

10. Rue McLanahan passed away at age 76. My childhood heart is sad enough that I can’t think of anything witty to say, but thanks to everyone on our Twitter feed, I’ll have “Thank You For Being a Friend” stuck in my head for days.

11. Bonus round, to be filed under: WTF Casting FAIL—Former Pussycat Doll and current Dancing With the Stars champ Nicole Scherzinger is cast as Maureen in RENT at the Hollywood Bowl.  I’m sorry, was Lea Michele too expensive?

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