Well, dear readers, here we are, in the final few days of our Countdown to Christmas. I, for one, am feeling snowy and blowy and mistletoey and I’m going to have a turkey lurkey Christmas for sure. I just have two more gifts to buy and then I’m done with shopping. For those who are still shopping for that special something for their true love, might I suggest eight maids a’milking? Actually, it might not be the best gift because while you get the eight maids in a timely fashion (clog shoes and a dirndl), they won’t actually be a’milking until the cows come home. Still, for the true love who has everything, you really can’t beat eight maids a’milking. Of course, why would you want to beat eight maids whether they are milking or not? What did the eight maids ever do to you, I’d like to know? In any case, I’m feeling snowy and blowy and mistletoey, and that’s all there is to that.
Yesterday, I attended a performance of Paint Your Wagon at the temporary Geffen Playhouse, located on the grounds of the VA Hospital. I had déjà vu as I drove in, for that is where I shot several scenes for the motion picture entitled Prime Suspect, which I directed under a nom-de-plume. I have never seen Paint Your Wagon before, but I knew going in that this was one of those “revisals”, where someone named David Rambo had Ramboized Mr. Alan Jay Lerner’s original book. I hate when they do these things, especially when they do them poorly which, sadly, is the case with a lot of this revisal. In fact, when I got home, I pulled out my first edition of Paint Your Wagon and read a bit of it – you know what – it may be old-fashioned but it had a charm this revisal didn’t have. They rearranged the position of almost every song in the show, they cut a couple of numbers and added two songs that don’t belong at all (one of them made my jaw drop – the title song from The Little Prince, here called My Little Girl). The cast was fine, the direction by the talented Gil Cates, was static and had no sense of musicality or pace. In fact, they could have cut ten minutes off the two-hour-and-twenty-two minute running time by just rethinking the interminable 1950s-like set changes – where we get to sit and watch a set change with nothing happening while the band plays a tune or two. Even with all that, the score shines through, with many classic songs like Wandrin’ Star, I Talk to the Trees, and They Call the Wind Maria. My pal Steve Orich did a nice job reorchestrating for a small band, and he conducted them very well. The band had two of my regulars in it, Ed Smith on drums, and Bob Carr on reeds.
What am I, Ken Mandelbaum all of a sudden? Why don’t we all click on the Unseemly Button below because I have lots of things to do today, including rehearsing with Mr. Kevin Spirtas.
I’m thinkin’ about those eight maids a’milking. I can’t get those eight maids a’milking off my mind. They’re going round like a circle in a spiral like a wheel within a wheel in the windmills of my mind. Just the thought of those cute little maids yanking on the udders of eight fershluganah cows is enough to send me into paroxysms of rapture. I don’t know where this paragraph is going, but I think I’d better stop before it gets there.
Don’t forget, Donald has a new radio show up, so give it a listen. And I will have a full report on the complete box set of Edgar Wallace films I’ve been watching, in tomorrow’s notes.
Well, dear readers, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must do the turkey lurkey dance whilst feeling snowy and blowy and mistletoey, I must spread Christmas cheer and Christmas tide and Christmas all wherever I go, because this Christmas is feeling like a detergent Christmas to me. Today’s topic of discussion: If you could have any gift this Christmas, any gift at all, what would it be and why do you want it so much. This is a personal gift for you, not world peace or anything like that. Something just for you, that would make you extremely happy. Let’s have loads of lovely postings, shall we? And let’s be snowy and blowy and mistletoey as we go.