The Family That Plays Together

Every other year or so, the theatre group that I perform with puts on a show called “Remembering the 40’s.” The show is a revue made up of songs, dances, and sketches from the 1940s, starting just before the U.S. entered World War II, and ending with a celebration of New Year’s Eve, 1949. There are scenes of the soldiers at the front receiving letters from home, the women back home working in the factories and selling war bonds, several scenes from the Rodgers and Hammerstein classics South Pacific and Oklahoma, dance performances by a group of alumnae of the Radio City Rockettes and others, and a full-scale radio show. There are actors portraying such celebrities as Jack Benny, George Burns and Gracie Allen, Bob Hope, Rita Hayworth, Abbott and Costello, Jimmy Durante, and Mel Blanc.

This show has always been very special to me (see this blog entry). I often comment that it is my favorite show to perform with this group. Seeing the people I portray on stage in the audience watching my performance is both humbling and exciting. But this year’s performance was extra-special to me because not only did I get to perform with my husband, but with both my children as well.

One of my favorite scenes in the show is the song, “Be a Good Soldier.” The song is sung by a father who is in the army and going off to war. He is reminding his young son to take care of his mother, to obey her, and to remember and pray for his daddy while he is away overseas. The scene is sung to the side of the stage while it is acted out in a spotlight in the center of the stage. This year, my son played the part of the young boy. He is a rather intense and sometimes serious young man, and he took his part very seriously. The man portraying the soldier was absolutely wonderful with him. He whispered to him quietly to coach him about what was going on, “Give me a big hug,” “Let’s look out to the audience,” “Now give me a salute.” Any changes or corrections he was given (look back at your dad when you leave, turn towards the audience instead of away, nod when Daddy gives you the baseball glove), he remembered every time. I was so proud of him. And I was so pleased that he genuinely enjoyed being up there on stage.

The opening of the second act of the show was another opportunity for my son to be on stage, along with my daughter. The second act is a radio show, so at the opening, a family is sitting around an old-fashioned radio, listening to snippets of “The Lone Ranger,” “Abbott and Costello,” “Amos and Andy,” “Jimmy Durante,” and “Henry Aldrich.” I dug through our toy box and came up with an old wooden fire truck and a jointed teddy bear that both looked like they came from the 1940s, and our wonderful costumer came up with a flannel nightgown and some striped pajamas for the kids to wear. The kids behaved exactly as kids would have at that time: My son played with his toy and reacted to what was playing on the radio; my daughter was somewhat oblivious and just wanted to curl up on my lap and snuggle. It worked.

But as much as being on the stage with my kids was wonderful, being backstage with them was even more wonderful. My son camped out in the men’s dressing room with Dad; my daughter camped out in the women’s dressing room with me. And when I say “camped out,” I really mean “camped out.”

She had a little nest in a corner behind a door, and between shows she took a little nap there. But when she was awake, she flitted around the room, admiring people’s hair and jewelry and dresses, and chattering away to anyone who would listen to her. I was a bit worried that she would get in people’s way and make a nuisance of herself, but instead, she became the darling of the entire female cast.

And I hear that my son was just as much of a hit in the men’s dressing room, laughing uproariously at the cheesy jokes the men were telling and chatting a bit himself.

But perhaps the most exciting thing about doing this show with my kids was discovering the interest they both took not only in the process of performing, but in the history of what we were doing. Obviously, at age 4, my daughter doesn’t really understand the historical context. But she does understand that when I put on my plaid flannel shirt and bandana, I am playing a woman who went to work in a factory, and that when Daddy marches across the stage wearing a helmet and a green uniform, he is playing a soldier. She understands that people didn’t always have television but that they used to listen to stories on the radio and use their imagination, like we do when we read a book. It may not be history, exactly, but it is the foundation that will help her understand the past better later on. My son, on the other hand, at age almost 6 (going on 37), understands a lot more than I expected. He asks questions about the songs he learned just from sitting in on a few rehearsals, and we’ve had some incredible discussions about what it’s like when there’s a war going on, and what kinds of things cause countries to go to war. We compared war to a fight at school when two kids want the same toy, and we talked about how it’s better to figure out a way to share or take turns or work together to find another of the same toy, instead of hitting each other and both pulling at the toy and often breaking it so no-one gets to play with it.

Throughout my discussions with both of my children, I was continually reminded of the quote, “Those who do not learn from history are condemned to repeat it.” By beginning to learn history so young, I hope that my children can incorporate their knowledge of human history throughout their lives, carefully choosing what parts of history are worthy of trying to repeat, and which parts they want to work to avoid repeating at all costs. If they can learn that and use it in their lives, then I’ve done my job as a parent.

Who knew that would be the result of having my kids sitting on a stage in their jammies pretending to listen to a radio?

When They Love What You Love

Some people try lots of avocations and hobbies before they find their passion, but not me. I learned to sing before I could talk, and I was bitten by the theatre bug very early in life. Throughout my entire adult life, and even during the vast majority of my childhood, my passion has been singing and musical theatre. So it makes me ridiculously happy that both my children love to sing, and that they are comfortable being on stage.

Last night, my son had his first rehearsal for a small, non-speaking role in a production that my husband and I are performing in. This is a show that the Reagle Players of Greater Boston have performed roughly every other year since…well, I’m not sure when, but it’s probably been 30 years, if not more. The show is called “Remembering the 40s,” and it includes songs, dances, and skits from the 1940s – it’s a musical revue that starts off with a bunch of kids dancing to the jukebox at the local soda shop and hearing President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s “a date which will live in infamy” speech, then walks all the way through World War II from the perspective of both the American soldiers overseas and the women waiting back at the home front, then continues on through the postwar years of the marvelous radio shows of Burns and Allen, Jack Benny, Bob Hope, and groups like the fictitious “Cavalcade Singers.” The music includes such familiar hits as “In the Mood,” “I’ll Be Seeing You,” “Praise the Lord and Pass the Ammunition,” "The White Cliffs of Dover," and a plethora of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Broadway hits, including “Oklahoma,” “People Will Say We’re in Love,” “Honeybun,” “There Is Nothin’ Like a Dame,” and “Bali Hai.”

But one of the most moving moments of the show (for me, anyway – even before my son played the role) is the song “Be a Good Soldier.” The women are holding an auction to raise money for the troops, and in the middle of it, there is a freeze, and we see a father, in his soldier’s uniform, talking to his young son about taking good care of his mother while Daddy is away at war. The beautiful lyrics go like this:

Come, little man, put your toys away; you and I must have a talk today.
But first, let me have a great big kiss. Now, what I want to say is this:
Be a good soldier while your daddy’s away, take orders from your mom and learn to obey.
Come, little soldier, I am saying goodbye. Smile for me, buddy, there’s no reason to cry.
Now I’m on my way, you stay and hold down the fort.
I’ll tell the captain our worries are over, we have your support.
So pray for me, soldier, and promise each day you’ll be a good soldier while your daddy’s away.

Tell me any mother who could listen to those lyrics while watching her son and not sob uncontrollably. Certainly not me. I was a puddle.

I blogged recently about how history never came alive to me until I read stories about the ordinary people who lived through it rather than the famous names who created it, and this show is absolutely the story of the ordinary people. It’s the men who never planned to be soldiers but who were drafted and fought bravely; it’s the women who were terrified by what their menfolk were going through but who worked in the factories to keep everything going anyway; it’s the children who didn’t understand what was happening but who tried to be brave. It’s the ordinary people who did their best to keep living through all the challenges swirling around them. It’s everyone who tried to keep some kind of “normal” happening.

And when I see my son imagining what it would be like, what it would feel like, to know that your daddy was going far away for a long time, braving unknown dangers, fighting unknown battles, not knowing when (or if) you would ever see him again…when I see his eyes widen in understanding, and in sympathy, I know that he understands history – and theatre – the same way that I do.

We live it, we love it.

And there’s nothing quite as wonderful as sharing that kind of passion and excitement with your kids.

Nothing.

"Wonderful Town"

I often post comments or review of shows that are put on by the Reagle Music Theatre of Greater Boston. This summer, they've already put on some terrific productions: "Guys and Dolls" starring Brent Barrett in June, and "Kiss Me, Kate" starring Rick Hilsabeck and Sarah Pfisterer in July. And tonight, their final summer production opens: "Wonderful Town."

Sadly, this charming little show is not terribly well-known. The musical was written in 1953, based on a 1940 play titled "My Sister Eileen" which, in turn, was based on  a series of short stories published in the New Yorker by Ruth McKenney. The book of the musical was written by the authors of the play, Joseph A. Fields and Jerome Chodorov, the lyrics were written by the well-known Broadway team of Betty Comden and Adolph Green, and the music was composed by Leonard Bernstein. The original Broadway production starred Rosalind Russell as Ruth, and the 2003 revival starred Donna Murphy (who grew up in nearby Topsfield MA), and later Brooke Shields.

The story is set in 1935, when Ruth and Eileen Sherwood, a pair of young sisters from Ohio, move to Greenwich Village. Witty but plain Ruth is an aspiring writer, and lovely and popular Eileen is an aspiring actress.

The two find themselves a stereotypical cheap apartment, which shakes nearly to pieces on a regular basis due to nearby subway construction, and which is filled with a stream of crazy and fascinating people, including neighbors Wreck the football player and his girlfriend Helen, heavily-accented and volatile landlord Mr. Appopolous, returning "customers" of former tenant Violet, some Brazilian navy cadets, various assorted artsy residents of their Christopher Street neighborhood, and three of Eileen's admirers: Frank, the manager of the local Walgreen's; Bob, a magazine editor; and Chick, a newspaper reporter.

 

Ruth becomes frustrated at rejection after rejection of her stories, while Eileen is enjoying her popularity despite her lack of success in finding an acting job. Eileen gets arrested for accidentally causing a riot, but in typical fashion, charms the entire police force. Ruth promises to bail her out, but in the meantime, Mr. Appopopolous threatens to evict them - until Eileen gets a job offer as a nightclub singer, and he relents, realizing she'll have a regular paycheck. The night of her first performance, Eileen panics and pulls Ruth onstage to join her.

The two are a hit, and to add to the jubilation, Chick appears with a job offer from his paper for Ruth, and Bob declares his love for her, and they all live happily ever after.


The score of the show includes a number of catchy (if not exactly familiar) tunes: Ohio ("Why, oh why, oh why-oh, why did I ever leave Ohio?"), One Hundred Easy Ways ("You're met a charming fellow and you're out for a spin. The motor fails and he just wears a helpless grin. Don't bat your eyes and say, 'What a romantic spot we're in.' Just get out, crawl under the car, tell him it's the gasket and fix it in two seconds flat with a bobby pin. That's a good way to lose a man."), A Little Bit in Love, and Wrong Note Rag. The ensemble dance numbers, including Conquering New York, Conga, and Swing, keep the energy level high and showcase the fun dance styles of the 30s.



I have not seen Reagle's production yet, but if the quality is anywhere near the previous summer shows, there will be gorgeous sets and costumes, spectacular dancing, wonderful voices, and lots of fun to be had with the residents of Christopher Street. Get your tickets now!

Reagle's Kiss Me, Kate: A Review (Sort of)

Reagle Music Theatre of Greater Boston’s production of Kiss Me, Kate opened this past Thursday, and I attended last night’s spectacular performance. I don’t often write reviews of local productions, and this is less of a review than a summary of the show with my commentary, but I hope my description will inspire some of my readers to check it out for themselves.

Kiss Me, Kate is a delightful and witty Cole Porter musical about a pair of warring exes starring together in a production of Shakespeare’s The Taming of the Shrew. The show opens on the final rehearsal of the production (“Another Op’nin’, Another Show”), and we learn that the leading lady, diva Lilli Vanessi (the luminous Sarah Pfisterer, a veteran Broadway performer and regular on the Reagle stage), is not happy to be working with her egotistical ex-husband, director and co-star Fred Graham (played to the pompous hilt by Pfisterer’s real-life husband and fellow Broadway veteran and Reagle regular, Rick Hilsabeck). 

Unlike many real-life couples who lack onstage chemistry, Pfisterer and Hilsabeck positively sizzle as the warring Vanessi and Graham. The tension is palpable, but dissolves into sweet reminiscence during “Wunderbar” as they recall their early days of marriage, quickly crashing back to reality as they retreat to their adjoining dressing rooms. 

We are also introduced to the secondary leads in Shrew, the suave Bill Calhoun (Kevin Patrick Martin) and his flirtatious girlfriend Lois Lane (Lisa Dempsey). Calhoun has just lost 10 grand gambling, and Lane is horrified to hear that he signed the I.O.U. in Graham’s name. A pair of thugs (Aaron Dore and Daniel Forest Sullivan, sporting delicious gravelly voices, stereotypical gangster drawls, and fabulous spectator shoes) soon appear in Graham’s dressing room demanding repayment.

 

Graham, of course, denies writing the I.O.U. and attempts to throw them out, but they pull their guns on him and tell him they’ll be back. Graham also discovers, to his horror, that the opening night bouquet he meant to send to Lane was accidentally delivered to Vanessi, who is touched that Graham has remembered that it is the first anniversary of their divorce. Graham races into her dressing room to retrieve the note addressed to Lane, but Vanessi finds it first. Without reading it, she tucks it into her bodice as her good luck charm and they both take their places onstage.

The vaudeville-style opening number of Shrew (“We Open in Venice”) includes a pair of tumblers, a donkey pulling a wagon, and signs popping up proclaiming the cities mentioned in the song. 

The curtain then rises on the city of Padua, and a breathtaking vision it is. The set is masterfully done, and the beautiful lighting creates lovely textures and levels.  The gorgeous costumes, featuring plenty of richly draped velvet and brocade, add even more color to the stage.

 

We are quickly introduced to the characters in Shrew: Vanessi’s Katharine, the shrew herself; Graham’s Petruchio, her would-be suitor; Lane’s Bianca, her younger sister; Bianca’s suitors, including Callhoun’s Gremio; Katharine and Bianca’s father, Baptista (a hilariously longsuffering Rick Sherburne); and the townspeople of Padua. Bianca explains her frustration at being unable to marry until her sister finds a husband (“Tom, Dick, or Harry”). Petruchio offers a solution by announcing he is in search of a wealthy wife, not caring if she is old, ugly, or unpleasant (“I’ve Come to Wive It Wealthily in Padua”). Bianca’s suitors immediately offer to pay for his suit of Katharine and with Baptista’s doubtful blessing, Petruchio begins to woo her.

 

 

Katharine will have none of it, however, and Pfisterer breaks out of her usual lyric soprano to angrily belt out “I Hate Men” with great relish, accompanied by much throwing of objects.  Petruchio, undaunted, continues his suit, but the scene suddenly becomes more complicated as Vanessi reads the note from the bouquet, realizes it was not meant for her, and begins to improvise, repeatedly attempting to slap Graham, who warns her that if she doesn’t stop, he’ll spank her right there on stage – and in a masterful turn of physical comedy the two wrestle and he proceeds to do exactly that as the curtain falls on Act 1.

Act 2 opens with the company cooling off in the alley during intermission, performing a brilliant and energetic rendition of “Too Darn Hot” featuring superb vocals and dancing by Paul (Darren Bunch) and the entire company.

 

Back in her dressing room, Vanessi angrily calls her fiancé and demands that he come and get her, claiming she has been beaten so badly that she can’t even sit down. Graham tries without success to persuade her not to leave the show, but when the thugs reappear he has a sudden brainstorm and tells them he can only repay his debt if Vanessi completes the run of the show. They begin to threaten her while Graham intercepts the fiancé, Army bigwig Harrison Howell (Rich Allegretto), warning him that Vanessi, like all women, is prone to exaggerate, and will probably tell him she is being forced to perform under duress and ask him to call the FBI.

 

Naturally, she does just that (even pointing out the thugs, now awkwardly dressed in doublet and hose), and Howell and Graham exchange knowing (and patronizing) looks as Vanessi continues to fume. Howell encourages her to stay, and the second act of Shrew begins with Graham making a smirking announcement that they will be skipping the next scene, as it requires Katharine to ride the donkey, which Vanessi is currently unable to do. The scene begins with a disheveled Kate entering, accompanied by the two thugs, who look even more awkward and are soon directed offstage by Graham. Petruchio criticizes their dinner and sends it away, sending the starving Kate inside and gleefully informing the audience of his plot to tame her by allowing her no food or sleep. He discovers she has locked him out of the house, and sings longingly of the joys of bachelorhood (“Where Is the Life That Late I Led”), a tour de force performance by Hilsabeck, whose rich voice, crisp diction, and humor bring to life Porter’s witty and absurdly quick lyrics without letting the audience miss a single word.

A highlight of the second act is the brilliant transitions of both Hilsabeck and Pfisterer between their show-within-a-show characters and their major characters as Graham and Vanessi slip in and out of character to jibe at each other on stage. It is perfectly clear exactly which lines are from Shrew and which are the scripted ad libs from Kate. The clues are often as subtle as a raised eyebrow or a line delivered through gritted teeth, but the jabs are all the funnier for their subtlety.

We peek backstage again to find Callhoun lamenting Lane’s many dalliances with other men, leading to Lane’s assuring him she is “Always True to You (In My Fashion)” as she lists her many past suitors. Dempsey’s characterization of Lane hits a nice balance of giddiness and giggliness throughout the show without becoming annoying or cartoonish (no easy feat), and her vocals were perfectly solid, but I was a little disappointed in the limited choreography in this number, despite her obvious dance skills.

Back in the dressing room, Howell and Vanessi are soothing their own lovers’ quarrel as Howell announces he has been asked to be Dewey’s running mate, assuring Vanessi that he will soon move up to the Presidency himself and she will enjoy life as the First Lady (“From This Moment On”). Vanessi packs up to leave the theater for good.

We move backstage once again to find a series of packages and flowers being delivered to “Bianca,” as Callhoun sings of his love for Lane despite her coquettishness. As the crowd disperses, the thugs make a phone call to their boss only to find that he has been knocked off, thus nullifying Graham’s I.O.U. They inform Graham that his debt is forgiven, and start to leave the theater as Graham realizes he has lost Vanessi once again. Hilsabeck delivers “So In Love (reprise)” wistfully and tenderly, ending by slipping the cork from their wedding breakfast out of his pocket and gently kissing it, as if to say farewell. Such a lovely heartfelt moment amidst the zaniness of this part of the show.

Meanwhile, the thugs manage to accidentally stumble onstage and the orchestra begins to play, prompting them to break into a terrified and stiff performance of “Brush Up Your Shakespeare.” They rush offstage at the first opportunity, but are pushed back on, this time wearing straw boaters, and they loosen up a bit, starting to enjoy themselves as they deliver a few slightly more polished verses. Once again, they slip offstage and again reappear, this time with top hats and canes, delivering their final verses in a posh British accent, finally exiting for good with an exuberant little kick. Dore and Sullivan are both capable dancers and I wish there had been a bit more of a build in the choreography, but they made the most of what they were given and the number was appropriately fun and funny.

The final scene of Shrew now begins, with the newly-married Bianca and Gremio entering in their wedding finery, followed by Petruchio but no Katharine. Graham improvises as the cast looks confused, but suddenly, Vanessi enters as a meek and tamed Katharine, proclaiming her love and obedience (“I Am Ashamed That Women Are So Simple”), and the company comes together to burst out a soaring and exuberant finale (“Kiss Me, Kate (reprise)”).

 

The absolute highlight of this production, for me, was the music. Led by the multiple IRNE award-winning team of conductor Jeffrey P. Leonard and music director Dan Rodriguez, the 19-piece orchestra raises the roof, ably handling the multiple musical styles called for in the show, shining particularly during the Italian-flavored “Cantiano D’Amore” and the militaristic march “From This Moment On,” as well as the sweeping finale. It was especially impressive that such a large pit could dial it back for more intimate numbers like “So in Love” and the numerous featured trios and small group numbers, all of which demonstrated remarkably tight harmonies and perfectly blended voices. Hilsabeck’s and Pfisterer‘s impressive Broadway vocal chops were well-used in this difficult and rangy score, Pfisterer’s operative soprano voice soaring to effortless stratospheric high notes during “Kiss Me, Kate” and the Finale, yet belting out “I Hate Men” with vitriolic delight. Hilsabeck’s rich baritone shines especially during “Were Thine That Special Face.” Credit must be given to Dan Rodriguez for the fine diction of both the principals and the entire cast, doing much-deserved justice to Porter’s clever lyrics, which are easily missed in a lesser production. 

The bottom line is that if you have any love in your heart for musical theatre, Shakespeare, trained voices, clever humor, or witty wordplay, don’t walk, RUN!!! to catch this production. Remaining performances Saturday, July 11 through Sunday, July 19. See Reagle's website for details and to reserve tickets.

See you at the theater!