New York City Boy

On Wednesday, I went to New York City to see shows and catch up with a great old friend.

First, the shows.

The Country Girl
by Clifford Odets at The Jacobs Theater starring Morgan Freeman, Frances McDormand and Peter Gallagher

This production has invited a substantial amount of controversy. I was worried, based on reports on Talkinbroadway.com. But, to my surprise, it was pretty tight and featured a couple of fine performances.

Here's the deal with Clifford Odets. He does not write the way that people speak. He's not as poetic as, say, O'Neill or Williams, but he's poignant in a way that regular people just aren't. At least, the words of real-lifers are not as fraught with the prophetic as are those of the make-believers in Odets' world. For this reason, it is very difficult for actors to make his lines work. In short order, Peter Gallagher did the best job, Frances McDormand did the second best (even though she tripped over a couple of her lines, tsk tsk), and Morgan Freeman needs to revisit the script IMMEDIATELY. That said, Freeman was off the motherlovin hook when he was playing drunk. It happened over the course of a 30-second scene change, but man, the transformation was the most believable I've ever seen. You know how watching actors play drunk can be painful, like more embarrassing than watching your parents get all kissy face in public? Well, this was painful in the way that getting a tattoo is painful--like, oooouch while it's happening, but you're so glad you sat through it when it's over.

As for the play, it's got a boring-ass first act and a killer second act. I hate when that happens. The script raises interesting points about the connection between artistic greatness and personal stability. It also turns the playwright--played by Remy Auberjonois--into a model of compassion. Kind of masturbatory, but I loved it.

In the end, the show is worth a visit. Always good to see Odets done by the best of the best. Because when the amateurs get a hold of him... wiiiiiiiiilllllfffff.

Cry-Baby
A new musical based on John Waters' movie

The most inconsequential show I've ever seen on Broadway. Not terribly offensive. Not bad enough to be a guilty pleasure. Not good enough to be really pleasurable.

The best parts are when the supporting cast gets a chance to shine--particularly Carly Jibson as a preggers 16 year old and Ali Mauzey as a schitzo with a lovesick heart.

OH!!! And there's a guy named Spencer Liff who's in the chorus. He actually may be reason enough to see this show. I also saw him in The Wedding Singer a few years ago, and let me tell you... homeboy can dance like a motherfucker. Seriously, he was more compelling than anyone else on the stage, and I don't think he spoke a single line or sang a solo. Huge talent. Epic.

And now, not-the-shows
Written by and starring me and Jon

Jon
A great friend
Since I was 12
Sixie year--that's seventh grade at my high school--
He sat behind me in Ms. Wong's Latin class
Later on
He played my son
In a play by Steve Martin
His ability to transform
And entertain
Intimidated me back then
So I viewed him as a rival

Now
A kindred spirit
The best kind of friend
One you can talk to
Who listens
And responds
And inspires

The man is doing great work in the big city
Great important work
And he still has the same creative spirit he had
When we were 12
So encouraging to talk to him
Everyone should have a Jon
Someone you can see everyday
Or once every couple of months
And still pick up as if nothing's changed
Or even better
Someone with whom you can celebrate the changes

Friends are
Normalizers
Equalizers
Pacifiers
Catalysts
Comrades