There’s a million a things going on in my mind. The bad thing is there’s no one to talk to; the good thing is I have the four walls of my room to listen.
While waiting for my turn, the barber handed me something to read. The pictures of women in full un-clothed glory didn’t pique my interest as much as an article on homosexuality in sheeps did. So much has been said about homosexuality as a matter of genetics as opposed to something acquired, so this certainly got me reading.
What completely (a)roused my interest, however, was the purported economic repercussions of homosexuality. Ewe! Farmers in the Oregon State were concerned about lost revenues because rams were ramming other rams instead of ewes. Now scientists at the Oregon State University have jumped into the jute sack and have begun, the article reports, rearranging the chromosomes to reverse homosexuality in sheeps. Not to be left out in the cloud of farmers’ dust, gay activists had expressed opposition because this chromosome reversal might be used to breed out gays. Double ewe!
I think gays – the humans, not the sheeps – are missing the real issue here. That gays are bred out should be the least of their concerns; the impact on fashion should. Imagine what the absence of gay pillars of fashion would do to the fall and winter line. Disaster, I tell you, disaster.
My date, of course, was a very much married woman, a very close friend who had nothing to do on a not-so-wintry 50-degree Saturday afternoon. This isn’t so much a review as a joke from a woman who was seated three rows down the orchestra and literally had a birds’ eye view.
Her: Guys look ugly in tights! They should invent some paddings to cover their parts.
Me: A tutu?
What I meant to say really was: And deny a select audience their money’s worth?
By god, one dancer had such an impressive imprint you couldn’t resist but look, and comment. Not that I would have blurted the same unsavory words because there was nothing ugly about that man in thights at all. I had to summon enough willpower to get my head off of that fine specie of a head — I mean man. I wish I had worn pleated chinos instead of the flat-front tailored slacks I had on. Not that I have pleated pants, because, really, who wears them?
Her: The women don’t have boobs!
Me: If Pamela Anderson was Princess Aurora all men in the audience would be at attention. Oh, the queue to the bathroom during intermission would be horrible.
Damn that dancer!
Her: The prince is ugly!
Kinky hair, the texture of wire brush, and not so bubble-y butt. I dunno! Everything about this Prince Florimund wasn’t princely. Damn! That dancer with a proud scepter would have assed, er, aced the part.
6th March 2007. “The heat is on” broadway.com bannered Lea Salonga’s return to the Great White Way. Ironically, the weather wasn’t as enthusiastic. The bone-chilling temperatures, however, didn’t dampen the theater-going public’s interest, and judging by the multitude that packed the waiting area of the Broadhurst Theater, and the sign saying “Tonight’s show and the next three weeks sold out.,” broadway.com was on the right musical track after all.
The Broadhurst is a much smaller theater compared to the Imperial where the original Broadway production of Les Miserables completed its run in 2003. As such, minor changes had to be implemented, as evidenced by a smaller barricade, and a trimmed down cast, too. If you had seen the original production, a smaller cast wasn’t such a bad decision after all, because, really, Les Miserables could be a very noisy musical.
The original production ended barely three years ago, and a revival at this time is premature. This prematureness was very much evident in the cast assembled for the show. Alexander Gemignani, Norman Lewis and Adam Jacobs did justice to their respective roles as Jean Valjean, Javert and Marius. Gemignani, however, fell short of the vocal demands of Bring Him Home.
Interestingly, the women, well, except for one, didn’t measure up to the vocal prowess of the men. Eli Ewoldt’s voice was tremulous you’d think you were watching Belle in Beauty and the Beast instead of Cosette. She was fidgety and had a peculiar mannerism of standing on her toes when singing high notes which incidentally she could barely reach and sustain. Celia Keenan-Bolger offered a fresh twist to the role of Eponine. Her interpretation of On My Own, however, lacked the intense emotion that this critically-acclaimed actress infused into the song. Of course, so much had been said how Daphne Rubin-Vega spelled the doom of Fantine, and there’s no sense in resurrecting the dead.
What Daphne killed, Lea Salonga revived. When she took to the stage, the audience welcomed her enthusiastically; and when she segued into the first note of I Dreamed a Dream, they listened and were drawn into the life of a woman who was robbed of her dignity, of her child and of her life. Lea’s heartbreaking interpretation showcased the myriad emotions in the song. How she effortlessly transitions to a higher note and still mantains control of the nuances of the lyrics is nothing short of amazing.
In an interview, Lea confided that a friend advised her to read Fantine section of the book before tackling the role. For having raised the musical bar, other actresses, and actors for that matter, would do well to watch Lea tackle the role.