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Streaming the Iconic Julie Andrews and her Victor/Victoria Musical on Broadway



Never has there been a moment where I could think of one negative thing to say about Julie Andrews. Let’s be clear on that. She is a true gift from the heavens, never disappointing this theatre and movie junkie in the least. From the very first times I laid eyes on that angelic face and heard that impeccable voice, she had been my beacon of pure unadulterated joy. Having already written about that first Julie experience in my blog regarding the cinematic sequel “Mary Poppins Returns“, I won’t go there, but I will say that Julie Andrews in that iconic titular role was really the first to captivate this musical theatre heart. I couldn’t sit down, literally, that first time watching her tell us about that spoonful of sugar, and it only added to my experience of her when she later claimed and calmed our hearts with a few of her favourite things list in that other classic film, “The Sound of Music“. She was a legend before I even knew what legends and stars were and would ultimately mean to me. That crystal clear voice and wise winking clarity resonated something completely honest and true, while embodying two very different nanny types. I wanted them both, as they made me feel loved and seen in a way that I can’t, even to this day, fully explain. Little did I know that another of her films would also make me feel loved and seen, but in a very different kind of way.

I don’t think I’m very alone in this club, as her first two films still find connection and engagement to all those generations of kids that experience wonder and love within those cinematic walls. She encompasses so much pleasure within that voice and that quality, and yet she is far more than just those two roles. In the opening of the YouTube video that I just happened upon the other day, Andrews tells us of her love of Broadway, and it was on stage where her light began to shine out strongly. With a career that spans seven decades, she first arrived from England to make her Broadway debut in 1954 in The Boy Friend, followed by My Fair Lady playing Eliza Doolittle in 1956 and Camelot playing Queen Guinevere in 1960. In 1957 Andrews also starred in the premiere of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s written-for-television musical “Cinderella“, a live network broadcast seen by over 100 million viewers, an event surprisingly that I only just saw on YouTube in 2020. It was also only after losing the prized role of Eliza Doolittle in the film version to “My Fair Lady” to Audrey Hepburn, that she made her feature film debut in “Mary Poppins.” She won the Academy Award for Best Actress for her performance in the title role, and of course, my undying love and devotion. Cause, how else can you say it, but it’s a jolly holiday with Julie. No wonder that it’s Julie that we love.

But it was in 1982, when this young man, working his part-time evenings away as an usher at a movie theatre in London, Ontario, was introduced to a very different kind of Julie. It was a part that had nothing to do with being a governess, but one as a full fledged adult singer/actress, and woman of the most wide eyed open order when she magnificently donned a black tux and tie to take on the starring role in Blake Edwards’ musical film hit, “Victor/Victoria“. It was a magical revolution of the highest order, in a way, making us all ask with wonderment, “What the Hell was that?” “B-flat.” Co-starring the incomparable Robert Preston as the lovable Toddy, the two broke so many social barriers that I could barely stand up, as I was required to do at the back of that movie theatre. We had to stand and watch for trouble in the back of the theatre, while really I was only watching these iconic actors hit vocal and theatrical high notes one right after the other, zinging lines at one another while pratfalls happen, as it does with any Blake Edwards’ films (most notably any that involve a “Pink Panther“), all around them with an artful ease. The two played off one another exceptionally well, giving us heart and connection at every turn of phrase, but it was also in the advancement of topics, such as homosexuality and the presentation of gender and sexuality without shame, that sent this young teenage boy reeling in the back row, not to mention a glimpse of just how magnificent Lesley Ann Warren could be when given such a fun juicy role to swivel her hips to (Who can ever forget her performance of “Chicago, Illinois” It’s a killer!). Oh, and James Garner as King Marchand with Alex Karras as his (closeted) gay bodyguard, Squash, are pretty damn spectacular as well.

I was smitten. And I couldn’t get enough, happily standing in the back of that movie theatre (like I also did with Dudley Moore and Liza Minnelli in “Arthur“) watching and rewatching until I could basically, like Preston’s character eventually does, perform each step and stance of Victor/Victoria‘s every musical number. I love that shady dame from Seville. That laugh of his when taking his final bow at the end of the film, applauded most adoringly by his newly found love, played magnificently by Karras, is worth everything. It’s overflowing with love and acceptance, and just a heap of good fun that it almost brings tears to my eyes each and every time I watch (which, by now, is in the hundreds, I’d wager). That being said, years and years later, in 1995, living the dream, one might say, in New York City (having just arrived one year prior), it was announced, with great fanfare, that Andrews and Edwards were bringing themselves and this story to Broadway in a film to stage remake, and I couldn’t have been more excited. But alas, I was just a poor waiter slinging hummus at the Yaffa Cafe in the East Village, and Broadway theatre tickets were a luxury I couldn’t quite afford just yet.

So this week, finding this unseen show tucked away on YouTube was a joyous gift, and although I heard at the time my fair share of negativity about the production, especially when anyone compared the staged version to the film, I just had to watch and see how it translates to the stage. But above all, I had to have just one more experience of the unbelievable Julie Andrews singing some of those iconic songs live on stage, even though it is a moment that I never got to have in real life. It’s a crazy world, this isolated COVID-19 landscape we find ourselves in, but still, almost one year exactly since Broadway went dark, and when live theatre retreated behind the lowering of the curtain, there are some wonderful silver lining gifts to be had out there, if we are lucky enough to spot them.

Now back to the matter at hand. Victor/Victoria opened on Broadway at the Marquis Theatre October 25, 1995. Directed, as was the film by Andrews’ husband. Blake Edwards with choreography by Rob Marshall, the musical played 25 previews and 734 performances before closing on July 27, 1997. The glorious music that we remember so well from the film, ushers us in, seducing us with a bunch of boys in heels and wrapped in feather boas. What a way to arrive into Edwards’ Paris, introducing us most lovingly to a kindly French homosexual known affectionately as Toddy, who takes in the desperate and hungry Victoria, an act of love that will only beget more love at almost every turn. It’s a slightly different set up, the ‘meet cute’ of these two adorable characters, but the quick affection is just as pure and sweet. After a late night chance encounter with Toddy’s nasty ex boyfriend, Toddy comes up with the most outlandish, brilliant plan, one that, especially on stage, you just have to fully embrace even as it stretches its credibility. Her audition at the nightclub where Toddy performs isn’t as magical or melodic as the opening film version, but it’s clear the lady can sing, shattering glass when she wants to with that infamous, and unforgettable B-flat. Toddy, himself has fallen into his own bit of financial trouble, having fought with the owner of the nightclub where he sings, albeit in a less fun dramatic fashion. No fist-fights nor silly French policemen, at least not yet (they come later, and not so well orchestrated as the film’s version). It seems these two both need saving, and Toddy’s ludicrous plan of remaking the pretty and poor Victoria into the the extraordinarily talented and celebrated female impersonator from Poland, Victor, might just be that ticket to fame and riches. Throw her in a suit, add a scarf to rid themselves of that Adam’s apple problem, and voila, a star is born. And who knows, it might just be crazy enough to work. A woman, pretending to be a man, pretending to be a woman…what could possibly go wrong?

This was basically the plot of the Edwards’ film, and he leads the musical basically through the same paces, directly holding on to many of the famous lines while simplifying the film’s plot so it moves faster and easier to the moment that we are all waiting for, that Jazz Hot moment that brings it all together and ushers them up to that hotel suite in the Parisian sky. It makes sense, this plan but it does leave the audience constantly comparing this version to the film and noticing and noting each and every change made. I must admit I missed that spectacularly delicious scene of Andrews as the starving singer watching a man glutton-ly eating an eclair with relish, or the ridiculously fun dinner for two that follows, with that incredibly funny waiter and that cockroach. Andrews, as she did in the film, sells it all so well, gladly making us believe that she is believable as this fake female impersonator, but the stage show adaptation lacks a bit of that famous spark. It might be the flat and uninspiring scenic design by Robin Wagner, with a lackluster costume design by Willa Kim, pedestrian lighting design by Jules Fisher and Peggy Eisenhauer, and straight forward sound design by Peter J. Fitzgerald. It’s especially surprising that, with the luxurious and colorful cinematic blue-print at their disposal, the final product is plain, flat, and dull, although the adjoining hotel suites deliver the only true door-slamming goods well. But in all honesty, the overall effect might be that Tony Roberts (Broadway’s The Tale of the Allergist’s Wife) as the lovable Toddy only made me miss the incredibly engaging energy of Preston more, especially in the opening few scenes, but I will also say that he grew on me as the show gayly prances forward (but he is no Robert Preston, but really, who could be?).

Sadly, the musical as a whole is pretty darn clumsy and underwhelming, especially when it doesn’t just mimic the movie, which, in itself, is a complicated thing. The difficulty of film-to-stage adaptations lies in that balance between giving us what we love to remember and surprising us with a twist or two that works, like Tina Fey and company did so well with Mean Girls. Sadly Victor/Victoria just doesn’t delivery with any of the new songs, giving us an unremarkable score by Henry Mancini and Frank Wildhorn, with some pretty lame lyrics by Leslie Bricusse. The team tries to melt in more narrative styled songs throughout, but time and time again they fail to find any character or quality in those musical moments. Victoria’s first number, “If I Were a Man,” is the one of the saddest, as it really is the first full song Andrews is given to sing in the musical, and it is remarkable only in how unremarkable it truly is. “Why? For heaven’s sake,” Tobby asks, and we understand the question more after the song is played out. We sadly sigh in disappointment, for it’s bland musicality and framework, and for the lack of taking advantage of the goddess sitting before them. The audience arrived with such love and devotion to the actress and the movie. And she deserves a whole lot more, yet her first song delivered is something quite the opposite.

But we wait, patiently, because we know what must be coming, and that something will be “Le Jazz Hot.” It was Andrews’ big number in the film, filled to the brim with her majestic singing and a flourish of style. We feel the energy approaching, as it is the song that is supposed to usher Victor into Parisian nightclub fame and glory. But as the curtain rises and the illustrious memorable music swirls, all we can do is wonder, at first, where is she? And why has she given up singing the opening to another? The well voiced young man who takes over the first few bits (far too many I would add) does fine with the task at hand, but it’s a disappointment, and not a good start to what should be a singular sensation. The idea requires that Victor be utterly sensational, stunning us all with his nightclub debut, and shocking us with the big reveal, but as formulated by Rob Marshall (Broadway’s Kiss of the Spider Woman) and Edwards, the brilliance is pulled out before it even gets started. The intro gives it all away. In the film, the singer is introduced as Victoria (keeping the illusion alive), but on the stage, he is Victor before the curtain rises. That directorial decision strips the short hair unveiling of any suspense. There is no surprise, the only surprise lies in how Andrews is sidelined throughout the song and dance, spending almost half the number off stage leaving it to the dancers to deliver the high stakes energy, and the majority of her onstage time is her sitting and being wheeled around on a neon piano. Where’s the star making excitement in that? I was aghast.

In this poorly conceived stage version of the dynamic song, the spotlight tends to shine on the young and more energetic dancers, giving us an under-the-cover glimpse of something we shouldn’t be contemplating: the age of the star and maybe her limitations. To be kind, Andrews is a true legend, and she has aged beautifully and elegantly. This part is her swan song to Broadway, but maybe (and forgive me for stating it) it came a little too late for her to shine as strongly as the part needed from her. I feel terrible saying it, but this is not what we should be thinking at this point of the show, and it’s really only because of the awkward way it has been staged for Broadway. Tarted up, flattened out, and all the elegance carted away. Just give her the songs, the spotlight, and let her voice ring true. Don’t try to distract us with dancing young beauties. The number in the film isn’t all that energetic or highly choreographed to begin with, but it does have a sparkle and a shine that is sadly missing from this overly drawn out and over-the-top presentation. 

Julie Andrews and company in Broadway’s Victor/Victoria

I must admit I was flabbergasted, wondering how this could have gone so wrong, but we are quickly diverted to what turns out to be some of the most silly fun to be had in the show; Rachel York (Broadway’s Head Over Heels) as the blonde dynamo and gangster mole, Norma Cassidy. Norma is here to deliver the comic relief in Victor/Victoria, which she sashays out brilliantly by basically channelling every squeak and shriek that the equally talented Leslie Ann Warren brought to the part in the film. But in the show, her role is to bring out the handsome gangster King Marchan, played well by the uber-handsome Michael Nouri (NYCC Encores’ Can Can), and gift us all with every bit of deliciously fun low brow comedy that Edwards can pull out from his tricky deck of cards. How could it go wrong? Well,…. it doesn’t really, although the fantastic number “Chicago, Illinois” is overly produced and overly busy, once again, draining it of most of the sizzle and schtick on that big wide uninspired set piece.

I wish I could say that things get better as the story progresses, but I don’t know if I can. I mean, if the pretty terrible “Louis Says” doesn’t say it all, I don’t know what does. There is a magnificently well-staged door-slamming scene, that in the movie is all about James Garner, who plays gangster King, discovering Victor’s true identity by hiding out in her bathroom and watching Victoria disrobe and take a post-show bath. He finds the proof he needs to move forward, that the man is really a lady (of the highest order) pretending to be a man, and his love for her makes sense to him. But on that Broadway stage,the scene ends with Nouri’s King and his bodyguard Squash, played well by Gregory Jbara (Broadway’s Billy Elliot) discovering, well, pretty much nothing. Instead it’s the nasty nightclub owner, Labisse, played on a one-note horn by Adam Heller (Broadway’s Caroline, or Change) who pulls out Victoria’s old dress from the closet and makes the connection. Which, I guess, is fine, but not as strong of the film ending to that scene, and only begs us to ask the question; why does he continue to stalk the performer if he already knows he’s a woman for sure? I can’t answer that, except maybe he continues to spy on them in order to play out a few more theatrical pratfalls for Edwards, unless I’m truly missing something. 

Tony Roberts, Julie Andrews, Michael Nouri and Rachel York in Broadway’s Victor/Victoria

Andrews, finally, is given a new number that rises to her magnetic vocal abilities, “Living in the Shadows“, a song that almost equals the beautiful “Crazy World” that she also performs exceedingly well within the story. Those two songs remind us why we are all here in the first place, and also make us wince a wee bit more with the ridiculous finale number. To say it pales in comparison to the film’s hilariously emotional ending (thank you, Robert Preston! You are a gem!) is an understatement. Andrews, and Victor/Victoria, deserve so much better than what we are given here (click below to watch it all on YouTube). I can’t believe it went so wrong, but I’m hoping, somewhere, at some point of time, some creative brave hands will be given another go at the idea, with a new star, and a better, more colorful and sylistic vision all around, because this Polish Count deserves a much better gown and a far classier send-off.

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My love for theater started when I first got involved in high school plays and children's theatre in London, Ontario, which led me—much to my mother’s chagrin—to study set design, directing, and arts administration at York University in Toronto. But rather than pursuing theater as a career (I did produce and design a wee bit), I became a self-proclaimed theater junkie and life-long supporter. I am not a writer by trade, but I hope to share my views and feelings about this amazing experience we are so lucky to be able to see here in NYC, and in my many trips to London, Enlgand, Chicago, Toronto, Washington, and beyond. Living in London, England from 1985 to 1986, NYC since 1994, and on my numerous theatrical obsessive trips to England, I've seen as much theater as I can possibly afford. I love seeing plays. I love seeing musicals. If I had to choose between a song or a dance, I'd always pick the song. Dance—especially ballet—is pretty and all, but it doesn’t excite me as, say, Sondheim lyrics. But that being said, the dancing in West Side Story is incredible! As it seems you all love a good list, here's two. FAVORITE MUSICALS (in no particular order): Sweeney Todd with Patti Lupone and Michael Cerveris in 2005. By far, my most favorite theatrical experience to date. Sunday in the Park with George with Jenna Russell (who made me sob hysterically each and every one of the three times I saw that production in England and here in NYC) in 2008 Spring Awakening with Jonathan Groff and Lea Michele in 2007 Hedwig and the Angry Inch (both off-Boadway in 1998 and on Broadway in 2014, with Neal Patrick Harris, but also with Michael C. Hall and John Cameron Mitchell, my first Hedwig and my far), Next To Normal with Alice Ripley (who I wish I had seen in Side Show) in 2009 FAVORITE PLAYS (that’s more difficult—there have been so many and they are all so different): Angels in American, both on Broadway and off Lettice and Lovage with Dame Maggie Smith and Margaret Tyzack in 1987 Who's Afraid of Virginai Woolf with Tracy Letts and Amy Morton in 2012 Almost everything by Alan Ayckbourn, but especially Woman in Mind with Julia McKenzie in 1986 And to round out the five, maybe Proof with Mary Louise Parker in 2000. But ask me on a different day, and I might give you a different list. These are only ten theatre moments that I will remember for years to come, until I don’t have a memory anymore. There are many more that I didn't or couldn't remember, and I hope a tremendous number more to come. Thanks for reading. And remember: read, like, share, retweet, enjoy. For more go to


Broadway’s A Doll’s House Meticulously Stunning Revival Soars Like a Birdie Above That Clumsy Cat on a Hot Tin Roof




For a revival to find its footing, it has to have a point of view or a sense of purpose far beyond an actor’s desire to perform a part, whether it suits them or not. It needs to radiate an idea that will make us want to sit up and pay attention. To feel its need to exist. And on one particular day in March, I was blessed with the opportunity to see not just one grande revival, but two. One was a detailed pulled-apart revolutionary revival of Henrik Ibsen’s A Doll’s House that astounded. The other, unfortunately, was a clumsy revival of Tennessee Williams’ Cat on a Hot Tin Roof that fell lazily from that high-wired peak – not for a lack of trying, but from a formulation that never found its purpose.

Jessica Chastain in A Doll’s House. Courtesy of A Doll’s House.

But over at Broadway’s Hudson Theatre, a reformulation chirps most wisely and wonderfully, bringing depth and focus to a classic Henrik Ibsen (Hedda Gabler) play that I didn’t realize was in such need of an adaptation. With no extravagance at its core, Amy Herzog (Mary Jane) dynamically takes the detailed structure and beautifully adapted it with due purpose. It hypnotizes, dragging in a number of light wooden chairs, Scandinavian in style, I believe, onto the stage, one by one, by their black-clad counterparts in a determined effort to unpack what will unfold. There is no artifice to hide behind in this rendering, as designed most impeccably by scenic and co-costume designer Soutra Gilmour (NT’s My Brilliant Friend; Broadway’s & Juliet) and co-costume designer Enver Chakartash (Broadway’s Is This A Room), only A Doll’s House’s celebrated star, Jessica Chastain (Broadway’s The Heiress; “The Eyes of Tammy Faye“) rotating the expanse of the bare stage before the others join her slowly and deliberately. She sits, arms crossed, staring, daring us to look away, while knowing full well we won’t. Or can’t. And without a word, it feels like she has us exactly where she wants us. Needs us to be. And all that transpires before the play even begins.

They sit on that bare and stark stage, waiting, in a way, to be played with, like dolls patiently wanting some children to come and give them a voice through their imagination. As Nora, Chastain delivers forward a performance that is unparalleled. To witness what transpires across her face during the course of this extra fine adaptation is to engage in a dance so delicately embroidered that we can’t help but be moved and transported. She barely moves from her chair, as others, like the equally wonderful Arian Moayed (Broadway’s The Humans) as Torvald, are rotated in to sit beside her, conversing and delivering magnified lines, thanks to the brilliant work of sound designers Ben & Max Ringham (West End’s Prima Facie), that dig deep into the underbelly of the complicated interactions. This pair of actors find a pathway through the darkness, never letting us come to any conclusions until they are ready to unleash a moment that will leave you breathless. This is particularly true for Moayed’s Torvald, who seems decent enough at the beginning, but once the shift occurs, when the beautiful thing doesn’t happen as it should, his unveiling is as gut-wrenching to us as it is to Nora. Even though we knew it was coming long before the play even began to spin forward.

Arian Moayed, Jesmille Darbouze, Okieriete Onaodowan, Tasha Lawrence, Jessica Chastain, and Michael Patrick Thornton in A Doll’s House. Courtesy of A Doll’s House.

The art of the unfolding is steeped within the whole, refocused inside the brilliant shading, shadowing, and starkness of the cast. As Krogstad, the powerful Okieriete Onaodowan (Broadway’s Hamilton), alongside the deliciously tight Jesmille Darbouze (Broadway’s Kiss Me, Kate) as Kristine, find an engagement that sits perfectly in the structuring. They push the reforming to the edge, approaching and receding away from Chastain’s brilliant centering helping move the piece towards the required conclusion.

The same can be said of the wonderful Tasha Lawrence (LCT’s Pipeline) as Anne-Marie, and the exquisitely emotional turning of Michael Patrick Thornton (Broadway’s Macbeth) as Dr. Rank. Thornton, in particular, finds a telling and emotional space to connect, unearthing an engagement that breaks the circle apart, leaving Chastain’s Nora and all of us observers shattered and broken in its black X’d finality.

As directed with the same magnificently detailed energy and flat-walled framework as the previously seen Betrayal on Broadway and the West End, Jamie Lloyd gives us A Doll’s House that will never be forgotten. The focus is so deliberate, and the formulations are just so strong, pushed forward in black and white by the exacting lighting design of Jon Clark (West End/Broadway’s The Lehman Trilogy). Forced while remaining ever so intimate, the cascading of the statement delivered registers in a precise way, more exacting than I ever remembered, and I’ve seen numerous renditions of this epic play. And even though, from what I hear, many on the left couldn’t see the epic exit of Nora, a moment that typically registers throughout theatre history, the symbol of a woman, steadfast and true, leaving the safe and simple artifice of A Doll’s House for engagement in the hard cruel reality of the world outside is as clear as can be. The delicacies of this birdie trapped inside a cage, poisoned with lies and excuses, and beautifully brought forth by Chastain, registers the reasonings for this revival to exist. It has found a new and deliberate place to sing, and for that, I am truly grateful.

Arian Moayed and Jessica Chastain in A Doll’s House. Courtesy of A Doll’s House
Matt de Rogatis in Ruth Stage’s CAT ON A HOT TIN ROOF. Photo by Max Bieber.

I wish I could say the same about Ruth Stage‘s modern take on the Tennessee Williams (A Streetcar Named Desire) classic, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, currently being re-delivered at the Theatre at St. Clements. As directed by Joe Rosario (Hemingway and Me; Ruth Stages’ The Exhibition), the play doesn’t find its rationale for existing in the modern day beyond the simplistic sexualization of its boxing-ring corners. Matt de Rogatis (Austin Pendleton’s Wars of the Roses) as the tense athletic Brick stays broken and damaged in his corner, riding out the moment, waiting for the click, while in the other corner is the tense Maggie, played without hesitation by Courtney Henggeler (Netflix’s “Cobra Kai“) poised and ready for the bell to ring.

The battle is only heightened by the presence of two other fighters in the opposing corners, Big Daddy, played with determination by Frederick Weller (Broadway’s To Kill a Mockingbird) in the third, and Big Mama, played with a strong intent by Alison Fraser (Gingold Theatrical’s Heartbreak House), in the fourth. And watching and cheering for their own personal perspective wins are the obnoxious Mae, typically portrayed by Christine Copley (although I believe I saw an understudy), the weasely Gooper, played by Adam Dodway (Theatre Row’s Small Craft Warnings), Rev. Tooker portrayed by Milton Elliott (Ruth Stage’s Hamlet), and Doc Baugh, typically played by Jim Kempner (“The Girlfriend Experience“) (although, once again, I believe I saw an understudy).

Frederick Weller and Alison Fraser in Ruth Stage’s CAT ON A HOT TIN ROOF. Photo by Max Bieber.

Generally, this is a battle that rages deceptively strong and subtle for the length of the play, swimming cruelly in the hazy heat of its Southern charm. But somewhere in this modernization, the reasonings never get fully realized, leaving the cast to wander in their stereotypical delivery without a sharp focal point in the horizon to zero in on. Hidden behind the bar and the drink, de Rogatis finds a Brick to be engaged with. He’s definitely handsome and desirable, especially in the eyes of the far-too-straightforward Henggeler’s Maggie the Cat, and his occupation of drinking rings more true than most. I’m not sure if the modernization has been created to fit his chest-baring delivery of a broken Brick, but I will say that his artful approach to the part is one of the stronger components of this otherwise clunky reimagining.

Given so much to unpack, Henggeler runs a little too fast and furious, not weaving a pause into her thoughts and actions. It’s all forward flowing, ignoring the laws of silence and deliberation. Big Mama and Big Daddy, ignoring the fact that they don’t seem to fit in with their surroundings or the set-up, find their way into the same cage as the two central figure fighters, giving us something else to contemplate in their constructs, beyond their tight fitting jeans and dress. There’s not much of a father/son connection, nor does their familial energy register, even as it moves and twitches within the pauses well. The details of attachment are lost, as they talk around things, with everyone else playing at high volume, courtesy of a sound design by Tomás Correa (Hudson Street’s Adam & Eve), delivering the Southern drawl with the intensity of an SNL skit. That’s a problem to the whole and one that doesn’t work for this rendering.

Courtney Henggeler in Ruth Stage’s CAT ON A HOT TIN ROOF. Photo by Max Bieber.

Most of the cast is all hock and no spit, moving around the room with a strange case of physicalized mendacity while never really finding a reason for their existence. The artifice gets in the way of the movement, especially in Matthew Imhoff’s (off-Broadway’s soot and spit) busy and overly clumsy set, with some distracting fading in and out by lighting designer Christian Specht’s (SSTI’s Cabaret). The storm approaching is as false as the formula and the reasoning for this retelling. It showcases some basically good actors embracing the chance to play iconic Big roles that I’m sure they have always wanted to dig their Southern-accented chomps into, possibly because one or two of them might never otherwise get the chance as they don’t exactly fit the literal sashaying of the “fat old” bodies out and around the staging of this play. The idea breeds curiosity, but one that doesn’t save this Cat on a Hot Tin Roof from falling quick and hard from its perch, I’m sad to say. While the birdie in A Doll’s House flies strong out into the cool Broadway air, with solid reasoning on its stark wings, reminding us all what makes for a worthy reimagining of a classic.

Frederick Weller in Ruth Stage’s CAT ON A HOT TIN ROOF. Photo by Max Bieber.
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Relevantly Tuneless Fairytale Bad Cinderella Isn’t Bad, It’s Forgettable



You are seriously asking for it, when you make the title for your musical Bad Cinderella, however the show is  not bad, it’s just seriously lacking. For an Andrew Lloyd Webber musical, which is normally rich in melody, the only song that has any kind of hold is “Only You, Lonely You” sung by Prince Sebastian (Jordan Dobson or in my performance the wonderful Julio Ray). The lyrics by David Zippel and book by Emerald Fennell, adapted by Alexis Scheer are inane. It doesn’t help that the cast for the most part speaks and sings with mouths full of cotton. The orchestrations sound tinny and computerized, The lead Linedy Genao has no charisma or vocals that soar musically, instead she is rather nasal, like Bernadette Peters with a cold. Why this show is two and a half hours long is beyond me.

Grace McLean and the hunks Photo by Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman

The show is based in a town called Belleville (beautiful town en Francais), that is based solely on looks and prides itself on its superficiality. The opening number starts with “Beauty Is Our Duty,” the Queen (a fabulous Grace McLean) is into her hunks including her missing son Charming (Cameron Loyal).

Christina Acosta Robinson Photo by Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman)

And the fairy godmother (Christina Acosta Robinson) is a plastic surgeon who sings “Beauty Has a Price”. In a day and age, where we are suppose to see past all that, this show is politically incorrect.

Linedy Genao Photo by Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman

Cinderella a Gothic, and a graffiti artist, naturally does not fit into the town’s mold of beauty, which is how she earns her nickname. Her rebel move happens when she defaces a memorial statue of Sebastian’s older brother, Prince Charming. Sebastian is more of a geek, and he and Cinderella are in the “friend zone,” since both lack communication skills in admitting their love.

Carolee Carmello Photo by Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman

Sebastian is being forced by his mother, the Queen to find a wife at a ball and invites Cinderella. Cinderella’s stepmother (the always remarkable Carolee Carmello) blackmails the Queen to get one of her daughters Adele (Sami Gayle) or Marie (Morgan Higgins) the gig.

Grace McLean, Carolee Carmello Photo by Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman)

McLean and Carmello are the bright spots in the show and if the show had been about these two, maybe we would actually have a show that could work. These two steal the show.

Linedy Genao, Jordan Dobson, Photo by Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman

Cinderella has not one, but two what should have been show stopping numbers “I Know I Have A Heart (Because You Broke It)” and “Far Too Late,” but she does not have the vocals, the character development or the star power to carry them off.

The set and the revenge porn costumes by Gabriela Tylesova, are just over the top, with the storybook set faring much better than the over complicated flowered pastels that waltzed across the stage.

The direction by Laurence Connor is just dull and lacks oomph.

If you like buff men and Chippendale type choreography this is the show for you.

Bad Cinderella, Imperial Theatre, 249 West 45th Street.

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Did You Know There Is A Kander & Ebb Way?



On Friday, March 24th, the 96-year-old John Kander was given a Mayoral Proclamation from Mayor Eric Adams in celebration of the first performance of his new Broadway musical New York, New York. Following the proclamation, Lin-Manuel Miranda unveiled the sign renaming 44th Steet ‘Kander & Ebb Way. On hand was the Manhattan School of Music to performed the iconic Kander & Ebb song “New York, New York.”

New York, New York opens Wednesday, April 26, 2023 at Broadway’s St. James Theatre (246 West 44th Street).


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