The other day, I saw the stage musical Come From Away, which is playing in Los Angeles at the Ahmanson Theater. This is the show based on the true story about the small town of 9,000 people in Newfoundland who dealt openly and graciously with the 38 planes and 7,000 passengers that were forced to land there on 9/11. It had a great reputation -- winning the Tony Award for Best Direction, getting seven Tony nominations, and winning the Drama Desk Award as Best Musical. But it wasn't a show that struck me as something to rush out to see. A friend who had seen the show in New York suggested otherwise, so I took her advice. Smart me, wise friend with great taste. (And another friend who'd seen it on Broadway told me the day before I went that she was sure I'd like it.) They were absolutely right. It was tremendous. There are 12 actors who play about 100-150 characters. (I’m not exaggerating.) It may be the first “non-stop musical” I’ve seen. The first number – which grabbed me by the throat and heart half-way in – starts when the curtain rises at level nine, and it keeps that pace to the end, an hour and 40 minutes with no intermission. It's a whirling dervish of an emotional, wonderful show. And it's magnificently directed on an almost bare stage. That it won the Tony for Best Director despite not winning for Best Musical (which that year was Dear Evan Hanson, which I saw about a month ago) speaks loudly to me saying how remarkable the direction is. The book, music and lyrics are written by a Canadian team Irene Sankoff and David Hein, who went up to the town of Gander, Newfoundland -- known as "The Rock" -- for the 10th anniversary of the event, not having any idea what to expect. They ended up interviewing locals and returning visitors (who had "Come from away," the local name for foreigners) and the book overwhelms with a sense of that reality. The score is not remotely memorable, just a couple of songs stand out ("Welcome to the Rock" and "Me and the Sky," sung by a pilot, 'Beverly,' telling her story, which is moving all on its own, since the person it's based on, Beverly Bass, is a real-life pioneer, only the third female pilot hired by American Airlines in 1976, and pilot of the first all-female flight crew). In fact, at first I found the score -- interesting though it was -- a bit distracting because the book and dialogue scenes are so good. But as the show went on, the effectiveness of the score grew, as I saw better what they were doing, and ultimately I found the score extremely good, adding to the vibrance and vitality of the show, and it compliments everything so well. (Fun, too, is that a few times during the evening, the small six-piece band, or thereabouts -- which is on stage, although off to the side in the wings -- gets to participate in the action, and joyously so . They even get their own curtain call, after the cast has left and lead the audience in a foot-stomping, hand-clapping, rousing number. As fun as Come From Away is (and often very funny), it is at its core a thoughtful, serious drama that is filled with emotion, sadness, twists and a sense of the utter, stunning decency of Man. Or at least this town. In the program, it notes that Newfoundland and Labrador were named "one of the top 10 friendliest cultures in the world" by MacLean's magazine. It seems like an odd distinction when you read that before the show -- it is utterly understandable afterwards. It's also near-impossible to watch the show and periodically through the evening not contrast all this decency towards one's fellow man with news today from certain corners. I rarely give standing ovations. When for too many years now people in Los Angeles (and a growing number of places) do so for anything they like, it diminishes the point of honoring excellence that's far above the norm. For this, I was on my feet five seconds into the curtain call. And you could tell that the audience this time actually meant it, too. In fact, two-thirds of the way through I thought to myself that if this had been like a movie and there was another showing right after, I'd have stayed to see it again. If you live in Los Angeles, do yourself a favor and see the show. But know that it closes January 6. It’s really wonderful. You can get tickets here. There is no video clip that can do the show justice because, as I noted, this is a non-stop, whirling dervish of a show that soars for 100 minutes until the curtain drops. But this is that opening number I referred to that gives a sense of things, though without the pounding sound of the foot stomping and idea of urgency and warmth you feel in the theater. Also, alas, it's not the full number, but a very-trimmed down 90-second version. But this is at least how the show begins the moment the curtain goes up. It's is the starting level of the show, and keeps going at this vibrancy until the last note of the evening.. And now a bonus update: I'm going to keep the above video because it's the original cast, but five months after posting the above I came across a video of the full opening number performed at this year's Olivier Awards -- which is the British version of the Tony Awards. (Oddly, having by now seen full show and watched a ton of videos of the musical and stories about the history, only a few of the actors get the Gander, Newfoundland accent right -- notably the first performer you'll see -- many of the others sliding a bit into Scottish or Irish, but still it's a joy.) Oh, and as a side note, the show won the 2019 Oliver Award as Best Musical!! Hey, I tries nots to steer ya wrong... Here 'tis --
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Every year around this time, there are articles about which recorded version of A Christmas Carol is "the best." Usually it comes down to the films that starred either Alistair Sim or Reginald Owen. But for me, as I explain every year (and did lthe last couple of years here), it's this one. It's not a movie, though, or a TV production. It's, of all things, an audio version that was done in 1960 for, I believe, the BBC. It's quite wonderful and as good an adaptation of the story as I've come across. It stars Sir Ralph Richardson as Scrooge, and Paul Scofield as Dickens, the narrator. Casts don't get much better than that. I first heard this on radio station WFMT in Chicago which has been playing this every Christmas Eve for many decades. (And only couple few years ago finally moved on.) Eventually, I found it on audio tape. I've listened to it annually since I was a kidling. Some years I think I won't listen to it this year, but put it on for a few minutes for tradition's sake -- but after the first sentence it sucks me in. There are four reasons why, for me, this is far and away the best version. But one reason leaps out. First, the acting is as good as it gets. Scofield is crisp and emphatic as the narrator,and almost every creak of his voice draws you in to the world, and Richardson as Scrooge is a Christmas pudding joy. Second, being radio, you aren't limited by budgets to create the Dickensian world. Your imagination fills in every lush and poverty-stricken, nook and cranny -- and ghostly spirit, aided by moody sound effects and violins. Third, the adaptation sticks closely to the Dickens tale, and Scrooge comes across more a realistic, rounded-person than as a Mythic Icon. And fourth, and most of all by far, unlike any of the other version, this includes...Dickens. While the story of A Christmas Carol is beloved, it's Dickens' writing that makes it even more vibrant than the story alone is. And that's all lost in the movie versions, even down even to the legendary opening line, "Marley was dead, to begin with." Or any of the other classic narrative lines. Or the richness of Dickens setting the mood and tone and description of the gritty and ephemeral and emotional world. All that's gone in movies, good as the productions may be. But all of that is here in this radio adaptation, and Scofield's reading of it is joyously wonderful and memorable. For many, this will be A Christmas Carol unlike any other you're aware of, giving it a meaning and richness you didn't realize was there. The ending of the tale is so much more moving and joyful here, as we listen to Dickens' own words, that begin with "Scrooge was better than his word. He did it all, and infinitely more," and it soars from there, to perhaps my favorite passage about the new Scrooge and how good he is in the "good old world. Or any other good old world." If you have the time or inclination, do give it a listen. Ideally tonight around the fireplace while roasting chestnuts and drinking a Smoking Bishop. (Listen to the recording, it's from Dickens...) Even if only for five minutes to at least get the flavor. You might find yourself sticking around. Or just let it play in the background during the day, if you have other things to do. It runs about 55 minutes. (Side note: speaking of Dickens, if you know the original cast album of Oliver!, the actor here who plays the Ghost of Christmas Present, Willoughby Goddard, was Mr. Bumble on Broadway and in the original London production.) This might not play immediately, since it's a large file and may have to buffer first. But be patient, it's worth it. (That's Sir Ralph Richardson on the left, who plays Scrooge. And Paul Scofield must be the other one, as the narrator.)
A few years back, I wrote a piece for the Huffington Post about new discoveries surrounding the holiday classic, Handel's "Messiah." Several months later, I followed it up with additional revelations. Given that 'tis its season yet again - it seems like a fine time to repeat the story, as just another of the many holiday traditions. Sort of like a very early, 18th century version of "The Grinch." But have a glass of nog, as well. Fa la la... Over the passage of years, we lose track of the conditions that existed when artworks were created. When those years become centuries, the history vanishes, and all that remains is the work itself.That is, until someone researches that history, and puts the piece in its original context.
And that brings up Handel's "Messiah." By any standard, it's a brilliant piece of music, which has understandably lasted 250 years. Even to those who don't share its religious underpinning, the music is enthralling, and part of the celebration of the Christmas season. Oops. Now comes this detailed, deeply-researched article in the New York Times by Michael Marissen. "So 'Messiah' lovers may be surprised to learn that the work was meant not for Christmas but for Lent, and that the 'Hallelujah' chorus was designed not to honor the birth or resurrection of Jesus but to celebrate the destruction of Jerusalem and the Second Temple in A.D. 70. For most Christians in Handel's day, this horrible event was construed as divine retribution on Judaism for its failure to accept Jesus as God's promised Messiah." Oops. Mr. Marissen does an impressive, scholarly and even-handed job uncovering the history of Handel's "Messiah." If anyone is interested in that history, do read the article. At the very least, read it before stating an opinion on it... To be clear, this is not about political correctness. This is about correctness. The truth, we are told, shall set us free. Either we go out of our way to learn the truth in our lives - and embrace it - or we bury our heads in the sand and listen to the sounds of gravel. People will still listen to Handel's "Messiah" for centuries to come, whatever the reality behind it. The music is glorious. The words? Well, be honest, it's a fair bet that most people don't know <em >exactly</em> what's being sung about anyway - it's 2-1/2 hours, for goodness sake. Most fans wouldn't listen to "American Idol" for that long. People tend to tune out Handel's "Messiah" about six minutes in and let the music wash over them. When the "Hallelujah Chorus" is about to begin, they get nudged and sit up straight. And even at that, the only words most people know are "Hallelujah" and that it will "reign forever and ever." (Some people probably think it's about Noah's Ark.) So, in some ways, the libretto of Handel's "Messiah" is not of critical importance 250 years after the fact. And that might be the biggest joke on Charles Jennens, who wrote the text and apparently saw the work as a way to confront what he believed was "a serious menace" in the world By having his friend Handel set his pointed tracts to music, Jennens felt that would help get his point across more subtly to the public. The result, of course, was that the spectacular music swamped over the words, and over time they took on a completely different meaning. This is known as the Law of Unintended Consequences. Or also, be careful what you wish for, you just might get it. Somewhere up in heaven, or more likely down in hell, Charles Jenniens has been pounding his head against a wall for the last couple hundred Christmases, screaming, "No, no, no! Don't you people get it?!! It's supposed to be about celebrating the destruction of heathen nations, not the embracing love of mankind. You people are so lame!" And it gets worse, because starting the day after Christmas - until the next Christmas when Handel's "Messiah" starts playing again - Jennens berates himself all year, wondering if he screwed up his work and didn't make it clear. Like maybe he used too many metaphors, or commas. Or perhaps in Scene 6, when he wrote, "Thou shalt break them with a rod of iron," he should have explained who "them" was or described a different bludgeon. No doubt there will be some people aghast by the revelations (no matter how valid) about the writing of Handel's "Messiah." I also have no doubt that almost all those who are aghast have never sat through the 2-1/2 hour work. Nor that most of those ever paid attention to what the precise words actually were. But they will be aghast anyway. On the other hand, most people who <em >have</em > sat and sat through a 2-1/2 hour performance of Handel's "Messiah" likely welcome having an excuse now not to have to do so again. Mr. Marissen concludes his study with a thought on the subject. "While still a timely, living masterpiece that may continue to bring spiritual and aesthetic sustenance to many music lovers, Christian or otherwise, 'Messiah' also appears to be very much a work of its own era. Listeners might do well to ponder exactly what it means when, in keeping with tradition, they stand during the 'Hallelujah' chorus." And while singing along, they might want to add a "Hallelujah" for the truth, as well. And that, I thought, was the end of the story. But it wasn't. A few months later, while reading Volume 9 of Will and Ariel Durant's majestic Story of Civilization, entitled "The Age of Voltaire," I came upon their extensive discussion of Handel. After the passage on "The Messiah," the Durants continue on with the composer's life and eventually reach five years later, April of 1747, when Handel had hit hard times. Not only had he written a string of failures and needed to close his theater, but he went into a sort of retirement, and rumor passed that he may even gone insane, though perhaps it might have been mental exhaustion. (The Earl of Shaftesbury remarked, "Poor Handel looks a little better. I hope he will recover completely, though his mind has been entirely deranged.") However there was yet more to Handel - and to the story relating somewhat to the controversy today about "The Messiah." The Durants write - "...Handel, now sixty years old, responded with all his powers to an invitation from the Prince of Wales to commemorate the victory of the Prince's younger brother, the Duke of Cumberland, over the Stuart forces at Culloden. Handel took as a symbolic subject Judas Maccabaeus' triumph (166-161 B.C.) over the Hellenizing schemes of Antiochus IV. The new oratorio was so well received (April 1, 1747) that it bore five repetitions in its first season. The Jews of London, grateful to see one of their national heroes so nobly celebrated, helped to swell the attendance, enabling Handel to present the oratorio forty times before his death. Grateful for this new support, he took most of his oratorio subjects henceforth from Jewish legend or history: Alexander Balus, Joshua, Susanna, Solomon and Jephtha. By contrast, Theodora, a Christian theme, drew so small an audience that Handel ruefully remarked, "There was room enough to dance." No doubt, Charles Jennens, author of the text for "The Messiah," is spinning even faster and deeper in his grave. But quality does win out over time. And so does transcending decency. And that, perhaps, in part, and in the end, may well be what we're left with. Hallelujah, indeed. Returning back to seriously unknown Christmas songs from musicals, here's a song from a TV musical, The Stingiest Man in Town. It was a 1956 special on the Alcoa Hour based on Dickens' A Christmas Carol.
Many of the names involved might no longer be household ones, but it was a respectable cast, with a couple of full-fledged opera stars in it (Patrice Munsel and Robert Weebe), as well as pop stars. And one Hollywood legend as Scrooge -- Basil Rathbone, best know for playing 'Sherlock Holmes' in the movies from 1936-1946. The score by Fred Spielman and Janice Torre isn't especially memorable, but there are some nice things in it. And I like this one, as much for it being sung by Basil Rathbone, of all people, as for the song itself. He's no singer at all, but handles the number effectively. I should also note that I like it when songs are written from famous lines in literature, as this is. This number comes from late in the show, after Scrooge has learned his lesson. It takes its title from a line from Dickens when Scrooge has told the Ghost of Jacob Marley that his former partner was always a good man of business, and the specter admonishes him. And so, here, Scrooge has learned that lesson. "Mankind Should Be My Business." It's that time of year, and Mark Evanier has posted his game of an annual story about crossing paths with Mel Torme. What I like to annually add is that my mother and Mel Torme went to high school together at Hyde Park High School in Chicago, and I had a chance to cross paths with him, as well, and talk with him about it when we both worked on the movie Naked Gun 2-1/2. (Fun fact II -- Steve Allen went to the school at the same time.)
But back to Mark and his utterly wonderful story. You can read it here. And should. Even if you've read it before. If you didn't see it previously, this is a wonderful and very long sketch from Stephen Colbert's show with Laura Benanti repeating her role as 'Melania Trump' in "A Melania Trump Christmas." There are some songs in there which she lip syncs, and not especially well, so it might look to some people that she was dubbed for the singing. But that's all Laura Benanti who is a highly-accomplished Broadway star and superb singer. |
AuthorRobert J. Elisberg is a political commentator, screenwriter, novelist, tech writer and also some other things that I just tend to keep forgetting. Feedspot Badge of Honor
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