Reggie Watts: Disinformation at the Public Theater

No question, Reggie Watts—he of the shaggy head; still, handsome face; stunningly flexible vocal chords—is a smart, creative, dynamic and often quite funny performer with a lot on his mind... the way we communicate, for instance, and language in general, and technology worship, and identity, corporate/authoritarian doublespeak (whether delivered by lackeys from the fictional conglomerate Carnaidesai—"There's not much future left, but we're using all of it..."—or a Star Wars-inspired "Dark Lord"), and the seemingly imminent destruction of our planet, and self-righteous bullshit of all kinds.

Anyway, I was lucky enough to snag a seat at Watts's almost-one- man-show Disinformation (he was joined by some dancers for what I thought to be the night's weakest moments), directed (and co-written?) by Tommy Smith, playing at the Public Theater as part of their annual Under the Radar Festival. Given the breadth and depth of Watts's concerns, and the energy and spark with which he conveys his many themes, I was surprised that I found the whole thing a bit repetitive, and was much more engaged—and laughed a lot more frequently—during the hour-long show's first half.

That said, Watts is a compelling stage presence, who excels at, for example, delivering empty phrases with such conviction that you're tempted, for a second, to ascribe them with meaning (he explains that a piece of sound equipment on stage "does everything it's been engineered to do by the people who created it"); mangling words for comic (deeper?) effect (in one bit, he tells of taking his "grainfather" to "Sweatserland" and pushing him off the "bal-CONE-y"); and telling shaggy dog stories that somehow remain interesting even as they spiral out of control with ever-more ridiculously unimportant details.

Best of all, Watts is a superb human beat box, creating on-the-spot, multi-layered looping rhythms and melodies with a delayer, and then overlaying the mix with often hilarious rap/soul-ified improvised lyrics. My favorite: the insanely intricate, rapid-fire description of his camouflage suit.

Disinformation's Under the Radar run ended yesterday, but you should definitely try to catch this man's stage show the next time he comes around, no matter what he's doing. Until then, there are lots of Reggie Watts videos online. Here's one of the best.

My First Time

It's a cute idea: set up a website that encourages people to submit their story of how/when/where/with whom they lost their virginity (what's the opposite of that, by the way? when you lose your virginity, you find your _______ ...?); take the best of the lot, and hire four reasonably talented actors to bring them to life with dramatic readings on stage.


A cute idea... but then, as Debbie and I were watching its Off-Broadway realization, My First Time, it occurred to me that, for the most part, people's virginity-losing tales aren't really all that interesting. In fact, sitting here now some two weeks after we saw the show, I can't remember a single story in any detail, beyond the unsurprising fact that some people were drunk, some were in love, some were simply bored, some were date-raped. Sure, there were a few chuckles to be had, a few genuinely tender moments, a few times when there was actually some sexiness to all the sex. And each audience member is asked to fill out an (anonymous) questionnaire about their first time, and the answers, read aloud on stage, provide some rapid-fire relief to the show's pacing. And two of the actors—Kathy Searle, above, and Marcel Simoneau—did a great job, we thought, bringing a welcome variety of expression and personality to their share of the stories. But really, it all seemed a bit remote, the staging cold and awkward, the whole thing a bit too nothing-new. Maybe they should do a sequel, called My Most Recent Time, and have the actual protagonists, including audience members, get up on stage and describe that experience.

My First Time is currently at the New World Stages, on 50th Street between Eighth and Ninth Avenues. The show is 90 minutes long, and tickets cost a ridiculous $59. Thankfully, Debbie bought our seats at a discount... I really wouldn't recommend paying anything above half price for this.

Things We Want

My gorgeous and apparently theater-mad girlfriend took me to see Things We Want on Monday night and, going in with no expectations—and not even realizing just how star-studded a production this was—I must say that we both enjoyed the show quite a bit.

The acting is first-rate, especially Peter Dinklage, Paul Dano and, most especially, Josh Hamilton, playing three brothers, all presumably in their twenties, living together in the apartment they grew up in, their parents... well I won't tell you what happened to their parents. The art direction (set design/propping) is terrific: this is one of those time-machine homes in which nothing's changed since these guys were kids. Except now it's a lot messier. And instead of toys there's bottles of Jack Daniels scattered about.

Anyway, the plotting here is propelled by the return of a forlorn Dano to the family home, dropping out of culinary school after an unseen Zelda broke his heart. When he arrives, Dinklage is passed-out-drunk on the couch, Hamilton is heading off to his job as some sort of assistant to a self-help guru. All of the above changes completely over the course of the play, spurred on by the introduction of the kind of lonely, up-for-anything, sexy neighbor no one ever really has, in this case played by a very good Zoe Kazan.

Jonathan Marc Sherman's script is clever and often laugh-out-loud funny and, like I said, the actors are all excellent (though I'm a little worried that Dano, now seeing him for the third time in something, may be too one-note... we'll see what he does in the upcoming There Will Be Blood). The problem with the play (ably directed, by the way, by Ethan Hawke): no emotional core. Very quickly into things both Debbie and I realized that we really didn't care what happened to any of these people, even as we had fun watching them get there.

Things We Want is playing at Theatre Row (42nd Street between 9th and 10th Avenues) in the Acorn Theatre, through December 23.

Weird coincidence postscript: my mom found an old roll of film in her house a couple of weeks ago and had it developed. Last Friday she showed me the pictures, which included several shots of me when I was probably 10 years old or so, goofing around in the snow with someone I haven't really thought about in decades, a kid named Barrack Evans... the same Barrack Evans who is the managing producer of this show!

Speech and Debate

Debbie and I had a great time on Saturday night with three of the out-est of outcasts from Oregon's North Salem High School, the setting for Stephen Karam's funny, engaging, dead-on portrait of those treacherous late-teenage years, Speech and Debate.

The three protagonists here are all social losers in their own way. Jason Fuchs and Gideon Glick deliver excellent, note-perfect performances as, respectively, Howie, the queeny, out-since-he-was-10 transfer student whose chat-room trolling for sex gets the plot (such as it is) rolling; and Solomon, a deeply awkward kid in tucked-in polo shirt and pleated khakis who channels his anxiety and nervous energy into being "mature" and reporting on controversial issues for the school newspaper.

But the brightest star is Sarah Steele as Diwata, a self-described "odd and frumpy" senior whose frustration over never getting cast in the school musical leads her to form a Speech and Debate team as a vehicle for her own creations, one of which features her playing her idol Mary Warren (of The Crucible) traveling through time to chat it up with a teenage Abe Lincoln. This bit is hilarious—Steele plays it completely straight—as are most of Diwata's utterly delusional ideas. Karam gives Diawata most of the best lines, and Steele knows what to do with them.

Anyway, the narrative is essentially about how Diwata convinces (blackmails, really) Howie and Solomon to join her Speech and Debate club, and the subsequent bonding that occurs as all three slowly reveal their (unsurprising) deepest secrets. But, of course, the enormous appeal of this show isn't in its mechanics; its in the terrific performances and Karam's knowing portrait of the ways in which teenagers—lacking adults they can trust or even respect—try to deal with their fears, loneliness, shame and insecurities through both righteous indignation and feigned indifference. And, again, watch for Sarah Steele in the hopefully near future.

Speech and Debate has been held over for second time, and will run through December 30. The Roundabout Underground, a new initiative dedicated to putting on the works of young playwrights, is being hosted by the Black Box Theater on 46th Street just west of Sixth Avenue, an industrial-looking little space with very comfortable chairs. Tickets are $20.

Fuerzabruta at the Daryl Roth Theatre

My 24-hour-party-people daughters and I had SUCH a blast tonight at Fuerzabruta, the new show—still in previews—from the people who staged De La Guarda.

This is a non-narrative, dance/acrobatic performance that's loud, surprising, participatory, sexy, violent (in a STREB kind of way—not for nothing is it called "brute force"), and totally totally fun... like your dream night out at a club, where the music is thumping and you can't stop smiling and people are doing insane, startling, beautiful things all around you.

I don't want to get too specific, because part of the excitement lies in the (in Co's case, nervous) anticipation of what's going to happen next—and from which direction it's going to come!—but I will say that the excellent cast crash through things and dance like crazy and fall and scream and sprint and swim and spin and splash and slam and throw stuff and there's a giant treadmill and an enormous pool and a bizarre sail-like contraption and wind and water and smoke and a DJ wearing a George Washington wig.


Fuerzabruta officially opens on October 24 at the Daryl Roth Theatre on 15th Street, a half a block east of Union Square Park. Tickets for the few remaining previews are half price. The show lasts a little over an hour, and you're standing and dancing and being herded around the whole time. You will almost certainly get damp, and possibly covered in debris.

Hair at the Delacorte Theater in Central Park

I kept thinking during tonight's 40th-anniversary performance of Hair how blown away people must have been by this show back in 1967. Imagine having a foot (or two) in the "straight" world, and walking in cold, or even halfway knowing what to expect, to the Public Theater in the East Village, and hearing song after traditionally-arranged song celebrate—in the most explicit terms—promiscuous sex and the glories of drugs; and seeing these young men and women strip naked; and hear them shout out the coarsest of racial epitaphs, and the most venomous of anti-government slogans.

Heavy, man.

Anyway, although some of Hair definitely shows signs of age (obviously, it's very much of a time and place—dig all that wonderful, goofy hippie naivety burbling just below the anger), there's still enough genuine power and solid songwriting here to make this more than just a nostalgia trip... though, tellingly, Bo and Co enjoyed it considerably less than me or their mom.

Highlights for me tonight included Manchester England (and, really, everything sung by Jonathan Groff as Claude), I Believe in Love, Where Do I Go, Black Boys, White Boys, and, especially, the last three or four numbers, performed almost like a medley, and ending with a true goose-bump moment when the company—or, I should say, the "Tribe"—launched into Let the Sun Shine In.

Hair is playing for free at the Delacorte Theater in Central Park for two more nights, Sunday and Monday, September 23 and 24. Tickets are distributed at the Delacorte and at the Public Theater on Lafayette Street at around 1:00 on the day of the show. Bo and Co's mom did most of the line-waiting for us today: she arrived in the park at 7:15 in the morning, and we got some of the last seats—all singles—available. However. Friends of ours missed out on the 1:00 distribution, received vouchers (numbers 44 - 48, I think), showed up that night and got MUCH better seats than us. Also: apparently everyone on the evening's "stand-by" line also got tickets, so who knows what the best strategy might be.

And I apologize for the terrible pictures... security was tight, I saw several people forced to delete camera-phone shots while staff looked on, and there were several pre-performance speeches on the no-photo rule, emphasizing without irony before this anti-authority celebration that to do so would be "illegal."

Shakespeare in the Parking Lot: Much Ado About Nothing

Honestly? I was more excited about seeing The Drilling Company's take on Romeo and Juliet this summer, which they performed in their usual Lower East Side municipal parking lot in July. Scheduling didn't allow us to get there, however, so last weekend Bo, Co and I were instead treated to their Much Ado About Nothing: broadly played, loud and slapsticky, at times giggly, groanably funny and, for no discernible reason, set during NYC's Fleet Week.

Hamilton Clancy and Dana Stamp were good in last year's production of As You Like It, and they were good again this year as Benedick and Beatrice. And Brad Coolidge was a pleasure to watch as Claudio. Also fun are the frantic scene changes and entrances and exits through the audience; the very occasional but well-timed updating of the script's allusions; and the smoky renditions of such jazzy classics as Fever sung by Jennifer Alfaro-Martinez between acts.

As for the play itself, well... I'm certainly not going to "review" William Shakespeare, but let's just say that all three of us though the comedy aptly titled. Or, as Bo remarked about one particularly pointless sequence, "the whole scene has nothing to do with plot, it's just him saying 'how to be a policeman' a million different ways."

A few things more things you should know about the Shakespeare in the Parking Lot shows:
1. They're free. There are no reservations or tickets... you just show up.
2. You should get there at least 45 minutes early to get a chair, or bring your own... or, if you like, you can arrive any time and sit on a thin straw mat on asphalt for two-plus hours, or stand in the back.
3. The space is a functioning parking lot, and cars can and do drive in and out during the performance.
4. People walking by on Ludlow Street and living in the buildings around you are by no means going to turn down their music and keep quiet just because you want to watch some Shakespeare.
5. You can bring whatever sorts of food and beverages you'd like to enjoy before and during the show.
6. The whole thing works, it's a great way to spend a New York City midsummer's night, and Bo, Co and I will definitely be back again next year.

The final three performances of Much Ado About Nothing will be performed this Thursday, Friday and Saturday, August 16 - 18, at 8:00. The parking lot is located on Ludlow Street between Delancey and Broome.

The Receipt at 59E59

More a series of skits (or, at times, mere ideas for skits) than a fully-realized play, The Receipt is nonetheless a mercilessly charming and often funny 80-minute show by Will Adamsdale and Chris Branch, two clever young blokes who you will definitely hear more about in the future. Performed as part of the Brits Off Broadway festival currently going on at the spanking-new theaters at 59E59, the show begins with our two heroes—narrator and "lead" actor Adamsdale; sound effects guy and all-other-characters Branch—acting as archaeologists of sorts, puzzling over the artifacts from a city that sounds a lot like 2007 London, or New York. This leads to riffs on all manner of modern woes and idiocies, from ubiquitous advertising ("These people had such short memories they needed to be told everything: 'Eat here.' 'Buy this.'...) to our enslavement by technology.

Then the "plot" kicks in for a bit: the story of a man who finds a receipt on the sidewalk and, in a desperate need for some kind of connection, seeks out the piece of litter's owner. Then it's back to more stand-up—often incorporating well-done audio punchlines—and vaguely related SNL-like routines, the back to the story, etc. Among the themes explored are extreme urban alienation, corporate inanity a la The Office, bureaucracy of all kinds (even at a Starbucks-like coffee shop), the extreme insincerity of branding, and the lameness of adult contemporary music (you'll never hear "You're Beautiful" again without giggling).

The bad news: The Receipt has finished its run. Sorry for the late review, but Debbie, her parents, and I just saw it last Friday night, to unanimous appreciation. The good news: there are plenty of other things happening at the nicely-designed and comfortable 59E59 (located at, yes, 59 East 59th Street), including more Brits Off-Broadway productions, through July 1.

The Year of Magical Thinking on Broadway

What would The Year of Magical Thinking, Joan Didion's one-woman show on Broadway starring Vanessa Regrave, be like without having first read the book?

Impossible to experience in hindsight, of course, as Didion's memoir of grief—her open, moving, sometimes harsh, always deeply intelligent sharing of what she did and how she felt upon losing John Gregory Dunne, her husband of 40-plus years, while their daughter Quintana lay in a coma—was perhaps my favorite book of 2006, and I had finished it just a few weeks before tickets to her show went on sale in January. But as I sat in the Booth theater last Friday night (a lovely evening, by the way, spent with Debbie, my mom and Erika), I couldn't help but wish that I had no prior knowledge of Didion's insights and epiphanies into what it's like to lose the people you love and depend upon the most... I couldn't help but wish that I was hearing it all for the first time.

Don't get me wrong: this is a very good night at the theatre. Redgrave's performance is riveting, effortlessly capturing the often complex rhythms of Didion's writing, earning every ounce of the emotion of her character, and, for me, making the play seem too short at an hour and forty minutes. And the staging is beautiful, too, both the lighting and the massive, subtly-painted curtains which fall to the ground behind Redgrave during the course of the show, often with a melancholic "whoosh". Life moving on, even as all Didion wants to do is go back. And, yes, I got choked up and teary-eyed throughout. But I think some of the material's power was lost upon this second "reading," even though the play includes much that was not in the book. The bit about Didion's unwillingness to throw away Dunne's shoes, for example, hit me hard on the page, less so on the stage. One of Debbie's favorite passages in the book, about how grief makes you literally crazy, also lost some of its initial impact. My mom felt a deep indentification with Didion's repetitious wish, whispered to Quintana, "You're safe, I'm here", when, of course, the opposite was true... but again, the overall effect was somewhat diminished by its familiarity. So although there are many excellent reasons to see Redgrave in The Year of Magical Thinking, if you haven't yet read the book, I would suggest maybe holding off until after the show.

The Year of Magical Thinking runs through August 15.

Woyzeck at St. Ann's Warehouse

First, a little Woyzeck backstory. The author of this relentlessly bleak play, the Prussian Georg Büchner, died in 1837, age 23, of typhoid fever. And in fact, he never even finished what has become one of the most influential, most frequently performed plays in all of German theatre: Woyzeck was only discovered after Büchner's death, in draft form, with its scenes separately bundled, and unnumbered, so no one really knows how it's "supposed" to go. And it was the first piece of German literature in which the working class—in this case, common soldiers—were the main characters. AND it was based on a true story, about a man named Woyzeck who had his head chopped off for murdering his mistress.

OK, cut to last Friday night, Dumbo's cavernous St. Ann's Warehouse, a packed house, me in row H, seat 111, not really sure why I'm there (other than I like to try new things), never knew any of the above, no idea what to expect. Because I'm such an amateur "experimental theatre"-goer, I'll just give a few overall impressions...

I thought the production's design was beautiful: the sets, the lighting, the propping, all of it... especially the way the enormously deep stage was transformed into a (somewhat creepy) forest. And Woyzeck's tricycle—both innocent and pathetic—was very effective. And that swinging window. And the jukebox, too.

I appreciated the blasting of loud music numerous times throughout the story (vintage Elvis Preseley was the big star... not usually my thing, but it worked well here), both as an audience jolt and because it nicely punctuated the narrative.

I thought the deliberately overwrought acting style was tedious, terribly distracting and totally uneccessary.

I thought Edward Hogg as Woyzeck did a tremendous job of evoking the horrible, consuming agony of betrayal and heartbreak and jealousy and rage.

I thought the book itself was alternately compelling—ruminations on class ("virtue is a luxury the poor can't afford"), and the taming of man's "animal" instincts, and Woyzeck's uncertainty about his sanity—and ridiculously mopey, with our hero prone to say things like "Look at the thick gray sky. Makes you want to stick a nail in it. And hang yourself."

I thought the play's ending, though inevitable, was unbelievably depressing.

I thought St. Ann's Warehouse was a very cool venue, and will definitely keep an eye out for other new things to try there. Woyzeck is running through December 3.

Spamalot

A couple of weeks ago I parlayed my sweet, sweet Film Forum raffle winnings for a night of free Spamalot with my man Jack. It was, astonishingly, my fourth Broadway musical of the year, and Jack's first-ever on the Great White Way. And you couldn't ask for a more over-the-top introduction to this, by its nature, over-the-top medium. The sets, the costumes, the staging, the songs, the Python's trademark incredibly silly jokes, incredibly stretched out: all of it waaaaaaaay over the top.

Spamalot basically follows the story of Monty Python and the Holy Grail, and includes many of the movie's most famous bits: the Black Knight, "bring out yer dead", the Knights who say "Ni", the killer rabbit, the not-very-brave Sir Robin's minstrels, Tim the Enchanter, "what... the curtains?" the Frenchman's castle-wall taunts., etc. etc. Now, since I had just seen the movie in August with Bo and Co (and even that had been more of nostalgic experience than a laugh-out-loud one), I can't say I was exactly rolling in the Shubert Theater aisles at these well-delivered, cleverly-staged but by now 30-some-year-old gags. What I did enjoy very much, what felt most fresh and funny, were the musical numbers, especially those involving The Lady of Lake, who takes on a fairly large role here as Arthur's love interest and, as played by Lauren Kennedy, belts out several beautifully-done show-tune parodies like "The Song That Goes Like This" and "Find Your Grail." Other musical highlights included the maddeningly infectious "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life" and the show's eleven-o'clock song (which is what insiders call the number immediately before intermission—thanks, Bo, for the lingo! UPDATE: NOT called this, but still a good tune—thanks Blog About Town for the lingo clarity!), "Run Away."

scoboco does broadway

so it's come to this: i'm a man who cries during mamma mia.

yup.

and not just a lump in the throat, mind you... i'm talking actual tears coming from these actual eyes. i can hear dglass now: what happened to the apollo days, dude?! i can hear tod now, if he was still alive: what happened to your vow?! you know, the one you made as we snuck out of evita during that spanish class trip in 11th grade, and then repeated to me a bazillion times for years, just to be annoying?! that you'd NEVER to see another musical again?!! yeah well...

oh... i also danced. boco were a little embarrased and all, but the wtf, you know? i figure if you're going to bother to go to mamma mia, you definitely have to dance!

anyway, yes, scoboco made it broadway twice this summer, most recently to see the matinee of mamma mia (courtesy of the tkts down at the south street seaport, which opens four hours earlier than the tkts in times square, though no one seems to know if that's really an advantage), and in early july, for wicked.* both were huge hits with all three of us, but with wicked definitely getting the nod for "BEST musical of my life!" honors.

briefly, mamma mia is touching and sweet; the 20+ abba tunes irresistable; the cast mixed in their abilities, but the leads were strong; the sets clever. if you're already thinking of going, if it seems at all appealing, you definitely won't be disappointed (conversely, there's no point if you're just going to be cynical about it).

wicked is really pretty incredible. the sets, the acting, the singing, the story, the costumes, the lighting... it's all amusing and moving and smart and busy and a real spectacle and huge amounts of fun... totally worth a full-priced ticket.


* full disclosure: boco actually saw wicked twice... once with me, thanks to kristina (merry christmas!), and then two weeks later with their "summer musical theater workshop" at the lucy moses school (part of the kaufman center, on west 67th)... an EXCELLENT program, by the way, with great counselors, mostly nice kids, and a terrific end-of-camp performance, all pretty reasonably priced. and boco also saw "hot feet" because a friend of ours worked on it. it's that earth, wind and fire show that maybe isn't even around anymore, and which they thought was ok.

shakespeare in the parking lot

for years this event has caught my eye--most of the appeal being the clever name, i guess--so when scoboco was faced with a free saturday night last week we headed down to ludlow and broome for this summer's final performance of "as you like it", courtesy of the drilling company. and, really? despite the uncomfortable seats (thank god, though, we got there early enough to GET a seat... most of the 100 or so people sat on the asphalt for the two-plus hour performance), i haven't enjoyed shakespeare this much in a long time. and bo and co really liked it too: laughing at the right moments and seeming to follow the story pretty well and just soaking in the whole "guerilla" vibe of the setting... this is an active parking lot, after all, with cars pulling in and out and neighborhood kids on bikes letting out the occasional silly scream and just life in the city going on around you.


anyway, the actors were across-the-board talented, attractive, likable. the pacing was quick. the costumes and props simple and effective. and what i think made it seem so fresh and appealing to me was the actor's delivery of the lines: the words and structure were all shakespeare, of course, but the cadance, the facial expressions, the inflections, all were completely contemporary. even the songs--there are four of them in "as you like it"--were given modern rhythms and melodies, and they pretty much brought down the lot each time. we'll definitely check it out again next year.


one more thing: i know i've mentioned the sticky toffee pudding at schiller's liquor bar before, but we wolfed two of them before the show and it definitely remains on my top five best-treats-in-town list.

panacea

it was BIG night for scoboco: the world premiere of "panacea: an original musical about trust, betrayal and hope" running from now until... well, until tomorrow at 10:00 a.m.. a limited run, sure, but definitely one of the most original, heartfelt, lump-in-the-throat theatrical experiences of my life.ok, this was bo's sixth-grade play, which the kids wrote, directed, set designed, choreographed, starred in. the plot takes us from elizabethan england to a not-too-distant future of "the world federation," and back and forth and back and forth. in both eras, whole populations are being wiped out by the plague; leaders in both eras seek out a quick cure--a panacea--when a sorceress in each leads them to the unicorn's horn and the narwhal's tooth, respectively; in both eras everyone learns that that while there may not be a magic cure, a solution can be found if we keep our hope, and work together. SO beautiful!!!

the songs were really impressive, especially the big production numbers. the english accents were totally endearing. the cosumes were amazing. the energy on stage was HUGE. and the whole thing came in at a tidy one hour, five minutes running time. it was a wonderful night.


i'm so proud of you little bo, and i love you very much.

spelling bee

scoboco did broadway on saturday night--enjoying part one of k's super generous christmas present (thanks again!)--and we had a blast. the show was the 25th annual putnam county spelling bee, and though it certainly had it weak points (like, unfortunately, all the songs, which are used for unnecessary backstory and character development), all three of us laughed loudly and often, the whole way though.

by far the best and funniest lines are delivered during the actual bee... especially the banter surrounding the words the "kids" are asked to spell, the definitions of these words, their language of origin, etc. the bee's "official pronouncer" is particulary good, with dead-on comic timing. the kids try to get a little too much mileage out of the "we're such nerds" jokes, but mostly it works. and the show makes terrific use of four audience members who stay on stage for a good chunk of time as contestants. these people are teased mercilessly (but good-naturedly) about their clothes and such, and they couldn't get this one guy off the stage! he spelled these two obscure words correctly, so they had to call him right back up for a "special lightening round." very amusing and well-handled. and the set works hard and well, as does the lobby, at evoking the feel of a elementary/middle school. most important, bo and co absolutely LOVED it... with co giggling so hard at one point that all the people around her were just staring at her and smiling. my only regret is that we didn't go when it was off-broadway, in a smaller venue, for half the price.

our pre-theater dinner was at vnyl, on 9th avenue between 50th and 51st. this place is hyper but fun (well, bo and co thought it was fun), overly-designed as a tribute to music stars. here's what it's like: there are four bathrooms--elvis, dolly, nelly, cher--each with different music blasting, each with a large tile mosaic portraits and a smaller, built-in diorama of your "host." the food was mediocre but inexpensive... actually, our lightly fried calamari appetizer was pretty tasty--especially the dipping sauces--as was the fudge cake dessert, and the entrees (sesame chicken and meatloaf sandwich) were pretty bad, so i guess on average it was mediocre. i do still love the restaurant's exterior, which is why we went in the first place! next time (we're seeing wicked on july 1... thanks k!) we're going to "the centro."

golden dragon acrobats

it's always entertaining to watch people do things really, really, really well. to pull a few random examples from my brain: master glass blowers, tiger woods in that amex ad, the nasa geeks in the book "lost moon," hillary clinton working a crowd.

none of the above were at the new victory theater this afternoon, so all of scoboco's attention was on the golden dragon chinese acrobats. and they were unbelievably good at what they've chosen to try to be good at: juggling hats, and volleyballs (with their feet), and umbrellas (also with feet); contorting their bodies until they seemed almost boneless while, for example, balancing ten trays of shot-glass pyramids on their hands and feet and mouth and torso and head; standing on one hand atop a teetering, 50-foot tower of chairs--a slow-building stunt that had the entire audience visibly twisting with anxiety and suspense in our seats.

the costumes were nicely cheesy (though i just overheard bo describe them on the phone to her mom as "amazing," so what do i know?), the music safe but lively (i.e., that old enigma chestnut, mea culpa, with the gregorian chants), the choreography and stage mannerisms totally goofy. they did stuff that was so incredible you just had to laugh out loud. the three of us wore huge grins the entire two-hour show.

the golden dragon acrobats will be at the new victory through january 1. i got our seats just two days ago, on friday, but the theater was totally full, and when i called they were sold out of the $25 and $10 tix, so i had to splurge on the $50 orchestra seats, which were awesome but not necessary.