Well, dear readers, I have just eaten two bags of Fruity Snacks and am feeling quite fruity. It is also quite late because I attended an opening night, and then had to schmooze and hang out with people. And so, I must write these here notes in a hurry so I can hit the road to dreamland, as I’m quite tired. I did manage to do a three-mile jog yesterday, and even though I’d kept the day light in terms of things that needed doing, I ended up doing quite a bit, although I can’t remember exactly what. I know I did some work on the computer, had to adjust some stuff in the Holy Grail booklet (it’s really a much more difficult approval process with this particular studio), had to do errands and whatnot and make some telephonic calls and answer a plethora of e-mails. I watched some more of The Red Shoes on Blu and Ray, but I’ll hold my comments until I’ve finished it. And then it was time to toddle off to the Dena of Pasa to attend the opening night of Baby, It’s You at the Pasadena Playhouse.
Prior to the performance, I met up with Barry and his ever-lovin’ Cindy and Don Petrie and his gal-friend (whose name I can’t remember right now). We met at a restaurant called Roy’s just down the street from the Playhouse. It’s called a Hawaiian Fusion restaurant, and, of course, that made me very nervous as I don’t like my food to be fused. There were a lot of dishes, all of which sounded odd to me so I opted for the half roasted chicken, which was swimming in some sort of sauce and which came with some sort of cranberry stuffing stuffed into a miniature mutant pumpkin shell or something that looked like a pumpkin shell. I started with something called a Caesar salad – it was approximately three leaves of lettuce in a good dressing with some sort of weird crouton focaccia thing, which was quite tasty. The chicken was okay. The conversation was sparkling and I’m always envious and amazed that Barry can dine before a show and be so funny and fun. I used to be crazed before a show, especially opening night – I wouldn’t see anyone, wouldn’t eat, and just kept to myself, but I think his way is much better. After dinner we moseyed on over to the theater and then the show began.
Baby, It’s You had a year run at the Coast Playhouse on Santa Monica Blvd. I heard it was not very good there, although undiscerning LA audiences liked it because they knew the music. The show was ostensibly about Florence Greenberg, the woman who discovered The Shirelles and founded Scepter Records. But it was really about singing a bunch of oldies and therein lies the problem with these sorts of shows. They’re created for the wrong reasons. I understand the show morphed several times during its year run. And now it’s having a much bigger production at the Pasadena Playhouse. I understand the show has gone through a lot of changes in the last week, thanks to artistic director Sheldon Epps. While I don’t really need to go into detail, I will say it needs to go through a lot more changes – it needs a much better opening, something that’s a real audience grabber, and not the artificial and rather silly way they try to pump up the audience by having a character address the audience and say “Are you ready for a good time?” That’s a cheap and crass way to open a show. The prototype for shows like this, at least the successful prototype is Jersey Boys – that show works because its book, simple as it is, works. You learn about characters, you come to care about them, there’s drama, and you also get terrific numbers in terrific arrangements. Here you get a lot of songs, some full, some not, but none with proper buttons or builds, and therefore the audience, which would love nothing more to be built up into a frenzy is rarely allowed that privilege. Instead, they almost always just start clapping because some song has petered out. There’s little conflict or drama – and it just can’t seem to make up its mind as to whether it’s a Vegas lounge show, a Branson show, or a book musical. They try to make the songs function as book songs sometimes – not such a good idea. It’s fine for the songs to COMMENT on things, that’s how they would work best, but when you have Mrs. Greenberg singing the songs, then it’s just plain weird. Also, the show could use some real and exciting choreography – right now, it’s just some crosses and some hand gestures. The unit set works fine, and there are a lot of projections. The cast works hard and most of them are fine. I’m not just saying this to be nice, but I will say that our very own Barry Pearl really shines in this show – mostly playing Mrs. Greenberg’s husband, and some other smaller roles. Unfortunately, he’s asked to play what is basically the same scene over and over again – and even then, he at least finds interesting new things in each version of that same scene.
There is a lot of money behind this show and if they do some serious re-thinking and a lot of work, maybe there’s a life for it. As it is, too much of it doesn’t land (opening night friends notwithstanding), and for this type of show that is not a good thing.
After the show, I hung out for a little while. I saw my friend David Lee, casting director Michael Donovan (his associate, upon meeting me, told me that when he was an actor he used one of my Stages songs as his audition piece and that he landed five jobs by doing so – the song being No Letting Go) – that was fun to hear. And then I came home, where I had to deal with a little nasty e-mail from a dear reader. I dealt with it as I had to.
Well, why don’t we all click on the Unseemly Button below because I am feeling fruity and I can only tell you that eating two bags of Fruity Snacks this late is quite nauseating.
Today, I will get up early, do the long jog, and then do a long drive to some place called West Hills, where composer Ken Thorne will be signing 100 CD booklets for Inspector Clouseau. After that, I have a couple of errands and whatnot to attend to, and then I have some liner notes to start, some food to eat and then some motion pictures to watch.
Tomorrow, Mr. Cason Murphy comes to help address packages and put postage on them, and then Monday morning CDs arrive and I’ll be packaging and shipping them all the livelong day.
Well, dear readers, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must, for example, do the long jog, do the long drive, get booklets signed, do errands and whatnot, eat, and then relax. Today’s topic of discussion: What are your all-time favorite girl-group songs? Let’s have loads of lovely postings, shall we, whilst I hit the road to dreamland feeling fruity.