Music theatre Mondays: The mailman won the lottery

Firstly, while we are on the subject of music: check out this Kickstarter! It's for a children's folk album about historical figures (Johnny Appleseed, Harriet Tubman, Che Guevara, etc) that needs a total of $2000 to get off the ground. It's actually passed its goal now, but CD production is always expensive, and it's for a good cause. Go, go, go!

And now, on the other side of the historical figures spectrum: Assassins. I really, really doubt any children's folk singers will be making a CD about these guys any time soon, and that's probably a good thing: I have a high opinion of what kids are able to understand, but tht doesn't mean I want to explain the Manson Family to a three-year-old. Not to mention the questions of didacticism: I'm actually told that some people object to Assassins because they think it's trying to make the audience feel bad for people who want to shoot the President. And . . . I can sort of see it. In just about any work of fiction, with RARE exceptions, you're supposed to feel something for the characters. You don't necessarily have to like them, but you should at least understand what circumstances and personality traits lead them to where they are at the end of the story. I don't think Shakespeare was endorsing regicide when he wrote Macbeth, but if you don't feel anything for him, the play falls apart. Same goes for Assassins: for the most part (I'll get to the exceptions in a minute) you're not meant to view the assassins as people to admire or emulate. They're just . . . people. Deeply flawed, violent people, who make terrible decisions. You know: musical theatre!

The base premise of Assassins, if you're not familiar with it, is this: various murderers or attempted murders of American presidents gather together on the stage- which is set up like a shooting carnival game- to interact and play out their stories. Like First Dance, it's very much a revue show: the assassins don't have a narrative, such as it were, they just sing and interact. This is how you get numbers that would make no sense if the show was trying to be linear ("Unworthy of Your Love," or the one where Lynette Fromme and John Hinckley Jr. sing about their respective objects of creepy, creepy affection) and scenes that, likewise, make no real logical sense- like all of the assassins appearing to Lee Harvey Osward in a dream sequence telling him to shoot JFK.  But for all that the songs are separate from each other, there is a sort of theme going on: disaffection, lack of identity, and the need for connection. Obviously many of the assassins are not the most balanced of individuals- specifically Hinckley, Byck, and Guiteau- but it's surprising, looking at them, how many do what they do because they want to stand for it. Booth, obviously, is standing for the Confederacy. Lynette Fromme does what she does because she thinks it will benefit the Manson Family. Czolgosz and Moore both think their actions will benefit the poor. Zangara was- uh, I don't really know why Zangara does what he does. I don't think the musical does either, because the song dedicated to his actions- "How I Saved Roosevelt-" is about the crowd's reactions, not Zangara himself.

For as much as the show is about the asassins themselves- and they are, obviously, the main focus- the music also does some of the same things Bonnie and Clyde did, in that it uses the building blocks of history to discuss the larger issue surrounding it. As much as I don't agree with the actions of the assassins (seriously, please don't send the Secret Service after me) I do like a lot of what "The Gun Song/Ballad of Czolgosz" has to say. Like B&C, it's about economic justice: specifically, the disparity between rich and poor, the lie of "bootstraps" ("in the U.S.A, you can work your way to the head of the line!") The point of "Another National Anthem," which I quote in this entry's title, is that the assassins "forgot about the country," because they think they're owed attention and adultation. Same with "Everybody's Got The Right," which opens and closes the show. And as awful as the assassins are, they're also oddly pitiable- they're people who think they're lost, and their response to this is to pick up a gun. There's tragedy in that, I think, no matter who you are.

Music theatre Mondays: First Dance

I did not see any musical theatre this week! I did a lot of other things, namely writing two papers and getting my computer back from Toshiba's clammy clutches- oh, and Thanksgiving. Canadian Thanksgiving is a bit different from the Thanksgiving that I understand is celebrated south of the border- for one thing, we hold it when it's still reasonably nice outdoors, and not a frozen wasteland of dead grass and mud, and for another, it's founded less on mass genocide and more on "well those guys were doing it, so we figure we might as well." Anyway, since my family does not consist of theatre performers (since I have not yet managed to pursue my dream of genetically engineering my very own theatrical Kennedy family. Alas.) I spent a quiet weekend at home with my parents and grandfather.

However! I did see a musical theatre production- of sorts- last week. Because I'm living on a university campus with a drama department, we tend to get whatever local plays are travelling through. The Tottering Biped company (on facebook here- become a fan!) stopped by at the end of September to put on a play that they've been workshopping, "First Dance." I've always been a big fan of Tottering Biped's mission statement with regards to theatre- as a company, they specialize in theatre with a social message, and carrying on a dialogue with the audience rather than making them passice receptors. I first saw one of their productions when "My Name Is Rachel Corrie" stopped by Theatre Aquarius, and found out afterwards that the reason a relatively small company was putting it on is because CanStage- a relatively large professional company based in Toronto- had cancelled plans to produce the play themselves for fear of controversy. "First Dance" is quite different from "Rachel Corrie" in that it tackled different issues and was created by writers and artists working for Tottering Biped rather than a pre-existing play. "First Dance" is an abstract piece- no, come back! I had the same initial response but it's good, I promise- about the courtship rituals surrounding the first dance at a wedding, and what changes in expectation when both partners are of the same gender. It's about same-sex marriage in the sense that the protagonist (his fiance never appears onstage) is gay and marrying a man, but it's more about the experience of being gay in general, how the things you've been trained to expect no longer apply, and the need for creating new rituals to follow. As I mentioned, I am really not a fan of abstract theatre- I saw a few in my short-lived Drama major days, and most of them seemed to involve the writer/director/star standing on a bare stage screaming obscenities and rubbing themselves with various edible fluids- but shows like fall in the middle for me. They're abstract in the sense that they don't have a plot, but concrete in the sense that the audience doesn't have to piece together what the playwright is saying with guesswork and the auteur's say-so. "First Dance" is much less a narrative than it is a series of vignettes that the main character ponders while he plans his wedding, but the wedding itself- and the general good writing- keep it from being pointless or confusing. There's also the dance numbers themselves, performed by people who have very clearly done their homework- as they explained in he Q&A after the show, they're both competitive ballroom dancers- so the polished dialogue never feels out of step with clumsier dance, or vice versa.

"First Dance" is still touring around southern Ontario- you can check times and places on the facebook page I liked to above- and if you have the chance, you should absolutely check it out. It's not terrible expensive, especially compared to mainstream theatres- my ticket cost $20- and it's a comparatively small price to pay for the experience.

(Also, one of the actors hugged me after the show, and I'm never washing this shirt again.)

Music not-theatre Mondays: Silly love songs

We're shaking things up today! Instead of a piece of theatre, I'd like to talk about a different form of music: love songs. Okay, some of them are from musical theatre, but the unifying theme here is love songs. Songs about love. Silly love songs.

1.       You and I by Ingrid Michaelson

Oh yes, they're on this list.

This is a fairly simple love song, but what sets it apart- for me- is that we know who these people are, and we know people like them. We can tell that they’re young, fairly idealistic, and the type of people who want to set out and change the world. The simplicity of the vocals and instrumentals (pretty typical of Michaelson’s songs, I’ve found) really help- the melody is simple and sweet, and the lack of frills means we end up focusing much more on the lyrics- which are all about the nice things this couple wants to do together, with each other and with other people. "Let's get rich and buy our parents homes in the south of France/Let's get rich and give everyone nice sweaters and teach them how to dance."

2.       Stray Italian Greyhound by Vienna Teng

I like this song because it covers a facet of love that I don't think gets covered very often- the scariness of it. Let's face it, love is scary! Sure it's also exhilitating and bubbly and giddy and all those things, but putting your emotional trust in another person is a pretty risky proposition. That's not to say it can't be a worthwhile one, but contemplating the idea isn't a thing of pure warm fuzzies.

I also love how much of a feel you get for the narrator here- someone who's been hurt before and is now confronting the idea of trusting and loving again. "But you had to come along, didn't you/Rev up the crowd, rewrite the rulebook/Where do I go when every no turns into maybe?"

She's Got You High by Mumm-Ra

This one just sounds so peaceful- like a lazy summer day. I know it's from (500) Days of Summer, which is avowedly Not A Love Story, but it's my list, and I'll include it if I want to. "What's this about? I figured love would shine through."

I Will Follow You Into The Dark - Death Cab For Cutie

This song is . . . sort of dark, I guess? I mean, in terms of the fact that it discusses death and dying. But the lyrics never really feel "DARK! SO DARK!" to me. Death in this song is a sort of quiet, gentle thing: "when your soul embarks." It envisions the afterlife as a vacant motel and dying as a rest after a long life. It refutes the idea that love is fear and instead lets the narrator decide for himself what path he wants to follow. It's a sweet song. "Just our hands clasped so tight/Looking for the hint of a spark."

Elephant Love Medley - Moulin Rouge!

Of course this is on this list. Of course this is on this list, and you know why? Dollars to doughnuts, when you hear "silly love songs," you think of this instead of the Paul McCartney version. At least you do if you're of my generation. Thanks to this movie, an entire generation of girls grew up believing that being a courtesan gave you consumption and also required rolling around on the floor and squealing to get a guy. Oh Baz Lurhman, what have you wrought? (But seriously, I love this movie.) "

Faster - Matt Nathanson

I think what we're all learning from this list is that I love bubblegum pop, and I am not ashamed. And that's all I have to say about that. "You taste like sunlight/and strawberry bubble gum."

Born To Run - Bruce Springsteen

Someday I hope to write a Bonnie-and-Clyde-esque story of robbers on the run. And it will be adapted into a movie, and the song playing over every single scene will be this song. And I will know I have done well in this life. "I want to know if love is wild/Babe, I want to know if love is real."

Music theatre Mondays: The people called it ragtime

15627 / 50000 words. 31% done!

I have a weird sort of fascination with mediocre creative products. You can see it in my Goodreads reviews- when I like a book I'll leave a few lines of "yeah, I really enjoyed this," but if the book is bad- or has good points that unfortunately don't outweigh the bad ones, then I'll spend several paragraph citing examples and explaining why the book didn't work for me. I love reviews like that- both of my own work and of others'. "I liked it" or "I hated it" don't elucidate much about why the consumer liked or disliked; detailed reviews help readers understand whether or not they'll enjoy a product, and creators understand what did and didn't work in their creative process.

Which brings me to Ragtime.

Ragtime is based on a 1975 novel by E.L. Doctorow, which was also adapted into a movie in 1981, starring a young Samuel Jackson. It's a sort of modern-day Les Miserables, with the cast of thousands and the political backdrop. There are three families, none of whom (with the exception of Coalhouse Walker and his girlfriend Sarah) have names- they're just called Mother, Father, Tateh (which means "father") etc, because this is a Serious Allegorical Novel that Needs No Names. The book was adapted into a musical in 1998, and won multiple Tony Awards. It's playing now at the Shaw Festival, which is where I saw it. Upon seeing it, I came to the following conclusions:

1. The music is great! 
2. The script is terrible.

I can see very well where the problems came from- the book is a panorama of 1910s New York, much in the way that Les Miz covers a vast scope of French society of the 1800s. The problem is, the musical bites off far more than it can chew. It wants to tell a story about every single one of its characters and, in the alotted two and a half hour running time, manages to tell none of them. It wants to make a statement about American culture and the American Dream, but ultimately says nothing because they haven't had time to build to any kind of thematic conclusion. They stuff the stage with cameos from various historical figures- here's Henry Ford! Here's Evelyn Nesbit! Here's Emma Goldman!- but none of them have any real, long-lasting impact on the plot. With the possible exception of Booker T. Washington, who actually influences one of the characters' decisions, absolutely none of these people need to be here. They definitely don't need to have their own songs, which they all do. (Ironically enough, I think Washington is the only major figure without a song.) Some of this, from what I understand, is  a holdover from the novel- where Nesbit had a subplot involving Tateh's daughter (who also doesn't get a name)- but the fact is, she serves no purpose other than the Younger Brother character crushing on her and then throwing an entitled rich boy temper tantrum when she won't love him back. This character is possibly one of the most eminently punchable I've ever seen in musical theatre, second only to Roger Davis. (Oh believe me, I'll get to him one of these days.) "I'm rich! My sister's husband gave me a job! But Evelyn Nesbit won't love me! My life is empty and without meaning! Wahhh!"

The face of First World Problems

I find most of the rich family offputting for exactly this reason- they don't need to be here. It's amazing how much they don't need to be here. Their only purpose is to walk in and become the White Saviour characters for the audience to sympathize and identiy with, despite the fact that nothing in their background indicates that they would be this compassionate and non-racist. They exist to make the audience feel better about their grandpa who still cracks racist jokes. It's as simple as that. And considering how little connection these characters have to each other in general, we don't even need them around to tie everything together, because they just emphasize how little sense this story makes. Coalhouse comes off as massively selfish, since he abandons his son to become a terrorist; poor Sarah gets virtually no characterization before being stuffed in the fridge; Tateh bobs in and out of the story, undergoing massive development offstage; and the various historical figures, as I've said, have nothing to do with anything. So if the musical is so terrible, why am I so fascinated by it?

Well, I love the subject matter. Immigrant history fascinates me, especially urban immigrant history, especially in this time period. And for all that the musical fails so epically at tying their themes together, I do at least respect them for making the effort. It's not like I can't appreciate panorama stories; Gangs of New York is one of my favourite movies, and for similar reasons. But Ragtime is a musical, not a movie; it doesn't have the advantage of gorgeous cinematography and period detail to capture the audience. So what does it have?

Well . . . the music is amazing. Really, truly amazing. I have a good chunk of the soundtrack on my iPod, and  I listen to it regularily. For all that the historical figures don't need to be in the show, they have some of the best numbers. I could happily play "Crime of the Century" or "Henry Ford" or "The Night That Goldman Spoke at Union Square" for hours. "Wheels of a Dream" is beautiful and heartbreaking. The Prologue is breathtaking, even if it does take TEN MINUTES to introduce everyone. I challenge you to listen to this and not want to jump out of your seat and dance. (Although: what's up with the choreography? You've got this big showstopping number, and you . . . have the actors stand in a circle and stomp their feet? Come on, guys.)

But most of all, I think I really just respect the authors for trying. Did they succeed? No, not in my opinion. But I have a lot of respect for people who are willing to make the effort to shine a light on some little-known parts of history. Even if it does mean watching John Hinckley up there whine about how he can't get in Evelyn Nesbit's drawers.

Introducing: music theatre Mondays!

9323 / 50000 words. 19% done!

 Never let it be said that I allow computer problems to prevent me from writing.

Pursuant to my post on Tragic Gays, I have a little linkspam for you! Here's a list of four new queer YA books; here's Autostraddle's list of the 20 best novels for queer girls (I did raise my eyebrow at "Perks of Being a Wallflower's" inclusion, given that it's actually queer-free, but I suppose tastes vary) and here's a blog post by Sarah Diemer (author of The Dark Wife, which I highly recommend) on the so-called "realism" of queer YA romances with sad endings.

I was thinking last night that I need set topics to blog about; if I keep going as I am now, I'll run out of steam by the end of the month. And while I'm sure you're all fascinated by my endless computer woes, I should shake things up a bit. So: MUSIC THEATRE MONDAYS!

You know what I love? Music. You know what else I love? The theatre. (I love Slings&Arrows, but I'm always a bit pained when they take swipes at musical theatre for being stupid or insipid or whatever. Yeah, okay, so there's more of a focus on song and dance than language; that doesn't mean that the art form hasn't made significant contributions to the popular consciousness.) Some of my friends and family think of me as a theatre snob, but that's not really true- at least, I don't think it is- I don't object to loving some seriously silly or flawed stuff. I'm an avowed fan of The Producers, after all. When I object to a piece of theatre (or a book, or a movie, or a TV show) it's not because I think it's stupid; it's because I think it's harmful. Like, when I object to Spring Awakening, it's not because I don't like "The Bitch of Living" (it's a pretty kickin' song) or the anachronisms in costume (I think it's a cool way of relating the characters to modern teenagers); it's because I think that it says things about sex and teeenaged-hood that are harmful (it's okay to sleep with someone who has no understanding of what she's doing!)

ANYWAY. That was a total tangent. What I was trying to say was, I like musical theatre. So what I want to do with these music-theatre Mondays is spotlight musicals that I personally really love and talk a bit about why I love them and what I think they're trying to say.

First up: Bonnie and Clyde!

This show opened and closed pretty quickly, which I understand, but think is a shame. It's not what most people think when they hear "Bonnie and Clyde;" they think sexy, they think danger, they think half-naked Faye Dunaway.

Not that I'm complaining, per se . . .

But the actual Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow- who I didn't know too much about until I started doing background reading on this show- weren't especially thrilling or sexy. What they were, above most other things, was tragic. They both had pretty crapsack lives, before and after going on the road, and this is what this musical really touches on. It's the only adaptation of the story that (for instance) that acknowledges that Clyde Barrow spent a chunk of his early life living under a bridge, or that he was raped in prison, or that "nobody ever gets out of West Dallas." It doesn't surprise me at all that this show was written when it was; the original demo was, I think, recorded in 2008, right about the time that the stock market crashed. When does the show take place? 1932. Three years after Black Tuesday. Songs like "Made In America" (my personal favourite, not least which because it's a lot of fun to headbang angrily to) and "What Was Good Enough For You" hammer home the point- life in the Great Depression SUCKED. It sucked even harder if you were poor to begin with. So what do you do if you're poor, starving, and have been repeatedly abused by the justice system? Well, you go on a crime spree! (Note: do not actually do this.)

Unfortunately, the reason I love this show so much is the exact reason (I think) it closed so fast. For one thing, Broadway audiences are generally pretty well-off; you have to be, to afford tickets. So a show about the angry, disenfranchised poor turning on those more well-off than them is not an easy sell for that kind of audience. But more than that- and this goes back to what I said about what people expect from "Bonnie and Clyde-" this musical is just too raw. It's too real. The writers never shy away from the kinds of people they're writing about- and as sympathetic as I find them, they really did do awful things- and when you add in the fact that people didn't go in expecting realistic examples of Depression-era criminals, it's not really a wonder that ticket sales weren't great. So it closed. And I am terribly sad that I never got to see it, though I do live in hope that it'll be put on at a local community theatre. And there is always the soundtrack to listen to. We may be in debt . . .