Show



The show tonight was Brooklyn, The Musical, which is new and in preview and which we're going to see without too many preconceptions. We've got good seats — up in the mezzanine right behind the guard-rail, which by now I know not to put anything on at the risk of causing fits in the ushers. We're not in the biggest theatre in the world — it's a preview, after all — and so all is good.

The set excites me. It's supposed to be under the Brooklyn Bridge, and there are brick walls at the back of the stage that represent the under-bridge, and behind them the set is dressed with junk of all sorts. The five players are all street people — the Street Weeds — led by Cleavant Derricks, who Philip saw in Your Arm's Too Short to Box With God and in Dream Girls, so I'm expecting good music. When we take our seat we're confronted with a line of huge speakers hung above the stage, and Philip remarks to me that Manny would like this, as he has the habit of believing that musicals are too quiet. This worries me a little bit because Manny's idea of too quiet is my idea of definitely loud enough, but when the show starts all is well.

Here's our take on the show (if you want to know what it's about, read the review). It's a story within a story; the characters are street people who are telling a fairy tale for money, and ultimately there's a Message that's getting delivered. But the music is great (OK, so some of the lyrics are a little corny, but who cares, the songs are hot), the performances excellent, the singing pretty incredible — the two divas in the show knock the stuffing out of their songs — and the production blew my mind. So I'll talk about the production a little bit.

Everything is done with garbage! The idea is (I guess) the Cats set meets the Rent atmosphere meets music with incredible soul, and the set, the props, the costumes, are all designed to look like street junk turned into costumes and sets for this street performance. So there's a diva-gown made entirely out of garbage bags, duct tape and (get this) bubble wrap; there's a crown made out of discarded potato chip bags; there are fancy sleeves made out of yards and yards of industrial-coloured nylon; a mattress becomes a sign; the top of a garbage can becomes a tray to serve drinks from, and a piece of canvas becomes a cape and a spotlight. I was hooked on the production alone, and the music wasn't bad either.

The story left a little to be desired, though, so we won't talk about it here. As Philip said as we left the show, it's a show that he'd definitely buy the music for, but he thought the story was a little corny. And so it was. But the night was by no means wasted; we enjoyed every second.

After the show we went out for sushi at a place called Haru. We had a little trouble finding it, but in the end we did; we squeaked in just before the kitchen closed (Monday is traditionally a non-theatre night, and so restaurants close early). I had a sushi platter, and Philip ordered teriyaki, and then we came back to the room. A bottle of wine — the long-promised apology for the mix-up — was waiting — champagne, which I like but Philip doesn't. Rather, I came up to the room while Philip went up to 48th Street to hit some late-night markets. He came back with fruit and chocolate and water and other snacks, and we had chocolate and strawberries and grapes and mangoes with the champagne. Then I fell into bed and went straight to sleep.

Posted: Mon - October 4, 2004 at 11:39 PM        

©