insomnia haiku

Puppets in Space

At least one person in my life has nicknamed me (against my will) Patrushka, and therefore it was entirely appropriate that today I went to see Basil Twist's Petrushka at Lincoln Center. It's Igor Stravinsky's ballet about puppets who come to life, but in a neat twist (ha! get it? Twist?), it's actually performed by puppets -- and it's incredible, whimsical and ethereal and gorgeous. Watch out for this Basil Twist guy; he's pretty amazing.

You can rest assured, however, that this ballet will never be made into an animated Disney movie. It concerns a love triangle of three magical puppets: the sensitive Petrushka, the lovely Ballerina, and the macho Moor. Petrushka is in love with the Ballerina, but after he hits on her passionately, she freaks out and rejects him, running out of the room to go put the moves on the Moor. The Ballerina and the Moor are about to get it on when Petrushka bursts in on them in a jealous rage, after which the Moor pursues, attacks and kills Petrushka with his scimitar.

So what's the message here? Don't be yourself? Nice guys finish last, and women dig jerks with muscles? Oh, those Russians -- they sure do tell it like it is. But the production isn't depressing in the least, as the puppets are delightfully expressive, and there are tons of droll touches. For example, in the first act, before we actually meet the puppets, we see beautiful flowers, Moorish buildings, and ... a bunch of chickens. Everyone laughed, every single time the chickens appeared. The real lesson of Petrushka? Chickens are funny. Every time.

Speaking of chickens, in an unrelated impulse, I was searching today for video of Jim Henson's memorial service, and it turns out that a number of wonderful clips were uploaded just a couple months ago, even though Henson died in 1990. Jim Henson was the first celebrity whose death really affected me -- it still does. Most of us grew up with him, after all, and were profoundly influenced by his world view. That sounds a little grandiose, but you know what I mean. We all felt as though we knew him, because he was an adult, yet he was also one of us.

Anyway, please enjoy/cry over these videos from his memorial. (It's the kind of memorial, by the way, I would love to have, if you're taking notes. Except I never wrote any songs you could sing, or made any puppets you could have perform, so maybe you could read a couple of my best blog posts, and set them to music? I dunno, be creative. I trust you.)

The first one, of Muppets performers doing some of Henson's favorite songs, starts with a little number immortalized by chickens (a-ha!); it features Dave Goelz (guy in glasses to the farthest left; Gonzo, Zoot, Bunsen Honeydew), Frank Oz (seated; if you don't know whom he voices, get off this blog), Kevin Clash (Elmo), Steve Whitmire (he's in the green suit; Rizzo the Rat, Wembley Fraggle, and he's voiced Kermit and Ernie since Henson's death), Jerry Nelson (bearded guy who isn't Frank Oz; Robin the Frog, the original Snuffleupagus, the Count, Floyd Pepper), and Richard Hunt (Scooter, Janice, Beaker; died in 1992).

This second part ends with the Muppeteers pulling out their Muppets (FOZZIE!) for a grand singalong. Ah, so many old friends. For a full list of the songs in those videos and of the sixteen puppeteers onstage with their Muppets, click here.

And this last video is of Big Bird, singing "It's Not Easy Being Green," which, waaaaaaaaah. Thank you Kermit, indeed. On behalf of puppets, kids, and former kids everywhere.

It's Turkey Lurkey Time (whatever that means) -- times two

By the time you read this, Christmas music will have been shelved for the next eleven months. But it's still Christmas for me, right now, and therefore I present to you two versions of a nonsensical Christmas song that rules all: "Turkey Lurkey Time" from the Neil Simon/Burt Bacharach/Hal David musical Promises, Promises.

If you've seen the movie Camp -- and if you have any interest at all in musical theater, it's required viewing -- you'll recognize "Turkey Lurkey Time" as the deliriously over-the-top ensemble number led by Jill, the blond camp diva. I just bought myself the soundtrack as a Christmas present, and I'm in musical-geek heaven. And I've learned that in the movie, they re-created Michael Bennett's (the mastermind behind A Chorus Line) original choreography step for step. Color me intrigued.

I've seen Camp scores of times, but I've never seen Promises, Promises. Well, helloooo, YouTube! I now can't seem to stop watching both versions side by side, as they're both showstoppingly terrific -- the original because, duh, it just is (it featured Donna McKechnie, who later was the inspiration for, and starred as, Cassie in A Chorus Line), and the one in Camp because it combines teen exuberance with teen precociousness, and it just works. And the choreography is exactly the same. It's uncanny.

The first clip below is the Camp "remake"; the second is the original Promises, Promises cast performing at the 1969 Tonys. (Side note: Apparently one of the dancers in the 1969 version is Kelly Bishop, otherwise known as the mom in Dirty Dancing and Gilmore Girls; but I can't figure out which.) You will either find this stupid or awesome, or both. Enjoy, and Merry Christmas ... or as they say in "Turkey Lurkey Time," a snowy blowy Christmas to you-ou-oooou!

You say pajamas, I say I'm in love with Harry Connick, Jr.

I saw The Pajama Game last night and am now 100%, head-over-heels in love with Harry Connick, Jr. You may think I'm being hyperbolic, but I'm not. (Well, not by much.) Every time he was on stage, my heart would go pitty-pat—really!—and on at least three separate occasions Abby and I looked at each other and either simultaneously said the words "He's so DREEEAAAMMY" or just grinned helplessly, at a loss for words. I felt like one of those girls from 1950s film reels, who, when confronted with their matinee idols, would flutter their eyelids and faint dead away.

He croons like a modern-day Frank Sinatra. We knew that, of course. His version of the ballad "Hey There"—in which he ends up doing a duet with himself, played back on a tape recorder—is wistful, plaintive, and thrillingly sexy. He also dances, doing goofy little jitterbugs and, particularly in the awesome duet "There Once Was a Man," thrusting his pelvis, Elvis-style. He conducts himself in this aw-shucks, I-know-I'm-a-total-dork way that's endearing as hell. He's built like an Adonis and in many scenes wears tight t-shirts, and all I can say is, thank you, Mr. or Ms. Costume Designer. You clearly have our best interests at heart.

In "Hernando's Hideaway," perhaps the best musical number I've ever seen in all my experience of theater-going, he not only sings and dances but also rocks out on the piano like he's jamming in a New Orleans club, and there is such tremendous heat emanating from the piano and from him and you're sitting there thinking, I am just so awfully, awfully lucky to be here to see this because it's a truly magical moment and oh my god I LOVE HIM. And in the last scene, he is shirtless, which I already had heard about and apparently so had everyone else in the theater—because in the moment before he stepped through the curtain, hundreds of people were leaning forward and craning their necks and practically standing up (I was actually already standing up, as I was in an obstructed-view seat and couldn't see anything otherwise), and there was an audible buzz in the air, and all of a sudden there he was and wow, just, wow. All I can say is, Jill Goodacre is one lucky lady, to get to come home to that every night.

Oh, and Kelli O'Hara's great, too, as Babe. And Michel McKean's in it, too, and there's ... uh ... what? Sorry. I was thinking about Harry Connick again.

M-U-S-I-C-A-L-S

I had a big theater week this week—saw "Spamalot" on Wednesday and "The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee" on Thursday. Both were terrific, though obviously in completely different ways. Now, I've seen "Monty Python and the Holy Grail" scads of times; my college roommates and I named our house Castle Anthrax ("The castle with all the women in it," we explained) and put the audio from Zoot's scene ("Oh, but we are nice, and we will attend to your every, every need") on our answering machine. We walked around saying things like "What floats? Gravy! Very small rocks!" and "Wot, the curtains?" and had a party at which everyone had to bring a shrubbery (i.e., a flower).

So my expectations were high. And they were met, as the show was a hell of a lot of fun, and I adore Hank Azaria. In the group scenes, I would always watch him; he seemed to be having the time of his life. Everyone else was great, too. But I'll admit that I probably would have laughed more if I hadn't already seen the movie scads of times. When the lines are so familiar to you, they lose their shock value. Fortunately, the show wasn't just a straight re-creation of the film. There were tons of other things there to entertain: the lyrics were witty and self-referential (though the meta stuff may have gone on a little too long), the dance numbers were silly and spirited, and the inclusion of "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life" was inspired. Listen also for John Cleese, as God. They did cut a few of my favorite scenes, but all in all, I had a great time.

If you're planning on seeing "Spamalot," I suggest you get tickets pronto, because a very unconfirmed rumor has it that Robin Williams is being considered to replace Hank Azaria when he leaves to do a movie. And the thought of Robin Williams doing the French taunter scene makes my stomach turn.

"Spelling Bee" was a very different type of show, of the spunky, little-sh0w-that-could variety. I laughed my ass off. It's sort of like "Spellbound" on stage, except funnier, and with musical numbers. The cast members are young and enthusiastic, in the way that the cast members of "Rent" were young and enthusiastic before they went on to star in bigger and better things like "Law and Order" and "Kevin Hill." And there are not one but TWO Asians in in the show! Audience participation! Sinus humor! Free candy! A song about an erection! The show was awesome. Go see it. Of course, I could be biased, because I'm totally geeky about spelling, and I came in third in my school's district spelling bee in eighth grade. I went down on "succumb," which I spelled with an "o," as in "aplomb." It's a mistake that haunts me to this day. Succumb succumb succumb. Argh. I also brought a lifetime's worth of guilt upon myself when I caused Mike Berta to misspell "filibuster." The first time he spelled it, he spelled it correctly. But I thought it had two "L"s in it, so I sort of shook my head; and since I was sitting in the front row, directly behind him and a little bit to the side, he saw me do it. The judges hadn't heard him clearly the first time, so they asked him to spell it again. This time, he spelled it with two "L"s. And down he went. I swear I wasn't trying to sabotage him or anything. I doubt he's forgiven me yet. I wouldn't.