Well, dear readers, here it is, Friday, the end of another work-week. It is raining, which is a pleasant change-of-pace. For those who have been asking about the show I’m working on, I suppose I can tell you now, since there’s already been a press release about it. It’s a new Showtime reality show called, I think, Bullshit! The hosts are Penn and Teller and they and we expose all sorts of Bullshit! each week. Today I saw the first of their footage and they are very funny. They host the pieces and also Penn speaks the voice-overs for them. It’s always a small victory for those of us who are putting the pieces together when Penn actually doesn’t rewrite our voice-overs. In the piece I am currently putting to bed he is speaking about eighty percent of what I wrote, which I consider high praise. He has also told several people that he loves my performance in the bit (I think I mentioned that David Wechter had asked me to “play” in one of the bits within the piece). Isn’t that exciting? Isn’t that just too too? In any case, the show goes on the air in January.
Last night, I saw the television version of Annie, which I’d never caught before. I didn’t think it would be possible for anything to be worse than the film version of Annie, but while this was a bit closer to the source material, it was just so lackluster on every level I just was bored to tears. I like Rob Marshall very much, and I’m sure Chicago will be better than this. Just about everything is wrong – all the performances (save Victor Garber, who I thought was okay) are strange – some oversized, some undersized, some non-existant. Kristin Chenoweth is costumed horridly and shot horridly, Alan Cumming on film is not something I need to see, Kathy Bates was just weird, and the little Annie (who I’d worked with before) wasn’t directed well and thus came off fairly charmless. And let’s just say that no one involved did Audra McDonald any favors. But the worst, the absolute nadir, was what they did to the score. They rearranged everything, made it lethargic and syrupy and gooey and lifeless – the conductor/musical director did a terrible job (he also takes a music co-producer credit – given the awful sound of the orchestra he probably deserves it). And, of course, the whole thing was shot on the back lot, so numbers like NYC, which should have been glorious, looked ridiculous and cheap. Why they do these things I don’t know. Craig Zadan and Neil Meron obviously get off on it, but they both should know better than to try to fix what isn’t broken. I dread The Music Man, oh, yes, I dread it.
I didn’t mean to rant or be negative, but I just wish they’d treat these properties with more respect. I mean, the film was awful, this thing was awful – that’s two awful Annies, and there’s not going to be a third. Same with the recent South Pacific. They finally do a much-needed remake, and it’s worse than the original film, which wasn’t too swift to begin with. In any case, I have spoken the naked truth, at least from my perspective. Funnily, I had lunch with the original Grace Farrell today, Sandy Faison, a very nice person.
This Saturday, I’ll be supping with our very own Dear Reader Laura and her Dear Reader daughter, Sandra. Oh, what fun we shall have, wearing our pointy party hats and colored tights and pantaloons.
Well, why don’t we all click on the Unseemly Button below and see what’s cooking in the next section.
Here’s what’s cooking in this section: A cheese slice souflee. Can you smell the aromatic aroma? Is it wafting your way over the Internet? I just got off the phone with our very own Susan Gordon, who is in Ashland or Ashfield or Ashcan in some state or other, at some film festival and memorabilia show or other and she is having a fine time and sends everyone a big Hainsie/Kimlet hello. I, myself, have never been in Ashland or Ashfield or Ashcan, but I have been in some state or other – for example, I was recently in the state of flux. What the hell am I talking about?
Well, tomorrow’s notes will be long because I’ll be answering all your excellent questions, so I think I shall cut these notes short, because frankly I must put on my pantaloons and exeunt my very own home. Yes, Virginia, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must work long hours and then come home – I do believe that dog Luckie will be a weekend visitor again. Today’s topic of discussion: What is the most daring thing you’ve ever done? Tell the truth, hold nothing back – whether it’s hang-gliding, or going up and meeting a celebrity, or stealing $5,400 worth of merchandise from Saks Fifth Avenue – I want to know the entire unvarnished truth. Do not put any varnish on the truth. We want raw, naked truth. Just the naked truth, that’s all we want. No clothed truth. Just the naked, naked truth in all its stark-naked glory. Nude truth. Truth sans pantaloons. The whole truth and nothing but the truth. The truth and all its particulars. To reiterate, I want the naked truth about the most daring thing you have ever done. Hold nothing back, even if “nothing” doesn’t want to be held back. “Nothing” has been moving far too much, so just hold “nothing” back, damn them, damn them all to hell. If anyone has a clue as to what I’m going on about, please tell us all, give us all the naked truth.