Well, dear readers, my novel is winging its way to the publishers, after endless proofing by several people. I had thought I’d pretty much found everything in the first go-round of proofing, but there was so much other stuff to fix it was ridiculous. My guess is that when I see the galleys, I’ll probably find yet more things. The fixing process is interesting to me – my proofers were catching every little comma, but sometimes I wouldn’t do commas if I felt it impeded the flow of a sentence. The flow is everything, and while one wants to be gramatically brilliant at all times, sometimes it’s at the cost of the flow or the intent, and I won’t do it. I won’t, do you hear me? You can boil me in oil, you can give me the water torture, you can rip my fingernails out (well, one fingernail in particular), you can put scalding hot pancakes on my butt cheeks, but I won’t impede the flow and that is all there is to that.
My goodness, such strength so early on a Friday morning. But one must have strength, otherwise the flow will be impeded and we cannot impede the flow, dear readers. To that end, I can assure everyone reading these here notes, things are going to flow like a river today. And we will not impede the flow, will we? Because to impede the flow is heinous (heinous, do you hear me?). Yes, things will be flowing to and fro and also fro and to, not to mention hither and thither and yon. And all manner of things will be flowing, all the flotsam and the jetsom and the sharksom and the jetsom, they will all be flowing.
I have no idea what the hell I’m talking about, do you? Sharksom and jetsom? I mean, that is the Ralph Nadir of these here notes. By the way, someone used our handy-dandy unseemly search box and searched the word “the”. They got a ton of hits, let me tell you that, because I use the word “the” a lot. I am a proponent of the use of the word “the” as you can tell by this very sentence in which the word “the” appears no less than five times. In any case, I feel it is time for us to click on the Unseemly Button below so that I can continue using the word “the” many more times.
I promised you long notes, dear readers, and I may as well get started right this very minute, by telling you about two more of my favorite musicals.
My favorite musical of all-time, and one of the all-time classics, is, of course, Gypsy. I don’t really have to go on about Gypsy, because the piece speaks so eloquently for itself – but I will say that there is a reason that it’s a hit every time it’s revived on Broadway (and it is revived with some frequency). It’s an absolutely perfect melding of book, music and lyrics. It just couldn’t be more perfect. Mr. Jule Styne’s music is sublime, Mr. Sondheim’s lyrics are moving, funny and intricate, and perfectly suited to scene and character, and Mr. Laurent’s book captures its era perfectly and has fully developed characters and great dialogue. One of my great regrets is not having seen Miss Ethel Merman do the show (it played here in LA, and my parents went and forgot to invite me). But her performance on the album is one of the most amazing things I’ve ever heard. In fact, the cast album of Gypsy is a desert island disc and one of the great cast albums of all time, brilliantly recorded by Goddard Lieberson (the recent reissue on Sony has been tampered with by Mr. Thomas Z. Shepard, which I feel is shameful – I’m sure Mr. Shepard would not like it if someone, years later, came in and tampered with the cast album of Company – no I’m quite certain that Mr. Thomas Z. Shepard would raise holy hell if someone did that). I did see Miss Angela Lansbury do the show, and I saw Miss Tyne Daly do the show, and both productions were wonderful. Every song in Gypsy is great, not a mediocre one in the bunch. Also, I know it’s very fashionable to knock the film version with Rosalind Russell, but you know what? I even like that version, and I even like Miss Rosalind Russell, despite the low keys and the dubbing. The one version I did not like in any way, shape or form, was the Bette Midler tv movie. Somehow, what should have been swell was just a non-energized mess from start to finish.
Another favorite musical is A Chorus Line. It’s interesting to me that when certain shows pass into legend, it becomes the “thing” to knock them and call them corny. I’m no fan of Cats, but people seem to forget that when that show opened in London and then on Broadway, it was called innovative, brilliant, mesmerizing and was the hottest ticket imaginable. It was only after it had passed into legend that people began to knock it and call it terrible. In any case, A Chorus Line, after having been ripped off too many times to even contemplate, doesn’t seem as fresh or original today as it did back in 1975, but let me tell you it most certainly was fresh and original back then. It was also brilliantly directed and choreographed and conceived by Michael Bennett, and brilliantly performed by its original cast. It was sharp as a tack, and one didn’t need to be a performer to understand the angst that was going on on that stage – no, anyone who has ever been on “the line” for any type of job could empathize totally. It was funny, it was intensely moving and it was unique. I saw it in previews at the Shubert, and I literally felt like I’d been hit by a truck, such was the impact the show had on me. From the first piano notes, I had a lump in my throat the size of Philadelphia, and it never went away. And, from the long section which begins with The Music and the Mirror and continues through Sammy Williams’ monologue, it was total tears. I have always felt that everything about that production was perfect, with the exception of the score, which I have always found less-than-brilliant. It most certainly does the job, and there are wonderful things in the score, but certain numbers have always felt flat to me, or less than they could be. But, ultimately, it doesn’t matter, because the damn thing works. I’ve seen several of these tours that occasionally go out, but they always seem “by the numbers” to me – everyone does the steps and says the lines, but it doesn’t seem personal at all, which was one of the hallmarks of the original production. Several years ago, I approached the powers that be about doing a complete recording, including dialogue, of the show, because the album is so truncated. I was told that there was definitely going to be a 25th anniversary Broadway revival, and so I was turned down. Needless to say, the 25th anniversary has come and gone, and, sadly, with little fanfare. Oh, well.
Aren’t these long notes today? Don’t these make up for the short notes yesterday? Isn’t the flow nice? Don’t forget, tomorrow is trivia contest day and David Levy has another good question for all you trivia contest players. Even if you’re not sure of the answer, give it a guess anyway, you never know when you’ll be right. And Donald Feltham will have a brand spanking new radio show up, come Monday.
These notes are so long, I fell asleep twice while writing them, that’s how long these notes are. But, as long as we don’t impede the flow, all will be well. When there is a flow (and we don’t impede it) then people get surprises, and aren’t surprises fun? Well, some surprises are fun and some aren’t, but we always hope for the fun ones. What the hell am I talking about?
Finally, several people have e-mailed me and asked me when I will finally get around to telling the story. After all, I am a storyteller, and there are many stories in the naked city that need to be told. But every story has its time and place, dear readers, and I can assure you that when the time and place is right, stories will be told. Perhaps soon. For example, I cannot wait to tell you the story of The Flimsy Nightgown and the Persnickety Bricklayer. Oh, that’s a fine story, very funny and ultimately very touching indeed.