Violet Weston is Alive and Alone and Living in Pawhuska

For the heck of it, I decided to take in August: Osage County again (the Sunday matinee on 6.29), this time to see how the play holds up with replacement cast members. Five of the actors, including Tony-winners Deanna Dunagan and Rondi Reed, departed the company on Tony Sunday.

It's sometimes hard to attend a play or musical after a favorite original cast member has left. The actor has worked specifically on the structure and personality of the character, often creating from the bare minimum. Estelle Parsons is now the matriarch Violet Weston, with Robert Foxworth (of TV's Dynasty and Six Feet Under) as Uncle Charlie, Jim True-Frost as Little Charlie, Tony-winner Frank Wood as Bill and Steppenwolf member Molly Regan as Mattie Fae.

The replacements are all stellar; all fitting in seamlessly with the Weston family unit. The only disappointment lies in Regan's Mattie Fae. There was something incredibly special in Reed's characterization, her embodiment of certain lies that provided the audience with an incredibly likable vulgarity. Such lines as "The situation is fraught," "I'm having a cocktail," and "It's my casserole" became special moments for theatregoers. In contrast to Reed's short, stout physique, Regan is younger, taller, thinner and more of a harradin. She still manages to nail the character in points where it counts, particularly in her revealing final scene in the third act. I'm not saying that she isn't giving a good performance, but it is in this character, I missed the original performance the most. Foxworth lends his laidback gravitas to Charlie. Wood has a field day with Bill, proving a volatile replacement for Jeff Perry and scene partner for Amy Morton (who is still giving the performance of a career here). True-Frost provided an endearing Little Charles.

Now onto the star turn. Estelle Parsons is a perfect embodiment of Violet Weston. Comparisons to Dunagan's performance are inevitable; however, Parsons' characterization is steeped in the text and she is never unfaithful to playwright Letts or director Shapiro. She was the actor I really watched the most throughout the play. With an Oscar and an impressive resume, it's the first time she's been on Broadway since the 2002 revival of Mornings at Seven. I've got to say, I enjoyed her from start to finish. With a physicality and appearance that defy her 80 years, Parsons dives in head-first into this mammoth part. Though less acerbic than Dunagan, Parsons manages to go on her truth-telling crusade with a headstrong vindictiveness that is ultimately tragic. Where Dunagan was pointedly sardonic and chilly, Parsons is a bit calmer; presenting a deceptively docile exterior, with a treacly sweet smile more venomous than a sprig of holly. She hasn't quite nailed the second act dinner sequence - she appeared to lose her place during the claw-hammer monologue (with Morton, always the ultimate pro, prompting her back into the scene in a seamless manner, making it all appear as part of the action. Brava, Morton!), but trust me, she'll get there. Parsons made an interesting choice - she constantly stole glances at Barbara in order to gauge a reaction. She also managed to bring down the house twice with the lines "It speaks" and "Scintillating," involving Little Charles burst of courage during same sequence. (Let me also say from an acting perspective how spectacularly Parsons listens onstage).

Parsons' has turned the final five minutes of the play into such a sobering denouement that it hasn't been before (for me). "Listen, you smug little ingrate," which was delivered with a viciousness and manic frenzy that was chilling. The audience was numbed most of all by her acting in the final moments, an almost apologetic and soothing calling out of names, during which panic starts to build, and explodes as she realizes no one is left. For the first time, I welled up during "And then you're gone, and then you're gone..." - one other thing that happened, and I think it was an accident, but after the blackout, there was one last mournful "and then you're gone" in the total darkness that just resonated so perfectly, I wish the play always ended like that.

The audience continues to hinge on every word. Their response was nothing short of cacophonous. If you haven't yet seen this play, get your tickets and go. The play is as strong as ever, and in more than capable hands. I myself can't wait to see Parsons do it again, to see how she grows into the role.

Violet Weston is still here. And I hope she never invites me for dinner.

Life Lessons from the Merm

All the following quotes have been credited to Ethel Merman. Some of them quite choice. I can't say for certain whether or not she actually said all of them, but I wouldn't be surprised... I offer them for your enjoyment.


- Always give them the old fire, even when you feel like a squashed cake of ice.

- Any audience that gets a laugh out of me gets it while I'm facing them.

- As far as dramas are concerned, it's considered passe for playwrights to turn out anything the average person can understand.

- At a flea market I always head for the junk jewelry table first.

- At one time I smoked, but in 1959 I couldn't think of anything else to give up for Lent so I stopped-and I haven't had a cigarette since.

- Broadway has been very good to me. But then, I've been very good to broadway.

- Christmas carols always brought tears to my eyes. I also cry at weddings. I should have cried at a couple of my own.

- Cole Porter had a worldwide reputation as a sophisticate and hedonist.

- Cole Porter wrote Anything Goes and four more hits for me.

- Eisenhower was my war hero and the President I admire and respect most.

- I am known to be able to take care of myself when I become angry. I don't mince words.

- I attend surprisingly few shows. The type of theater that is popular today just doesn't appeal to me.

- I can never remember being afraid of an audience. If the audience could do better, they'd be up here on stage and I'd be out there watching them.

- I don't like to read. The only things I read are gossip columns. If someone gives me a book, it had better have lots of pictures.

- I have plenty of invitations to go places, lots to do. If I'm not working, I go to have my hair taken care of and work at needlepoint.

- I preferred delivering my performance in person. I liked to be in control. You couldn't be in films.

- I take a breath when I have to.

- I was born in my parents' bedroom on January 16. The World Almanac says it was 1909. I say it was 1912. But what difference does it make as long as I feel 33?

- I was lucky enough to have the songs in my first show written by George and Ira Gershwin. Then Cole Porter wrote five shows for me.

- I wasn't straining at the bit to become a movie star any more than I had plotted to get out of vaudeville and into Broadway musicals.

- I work as often as I want and yet I'm free as a bird.

- People who retire fall apart. As long as you've still got it, use it.

- I wouldn't change one thing about my professional life, and I make it a point not to dwell on my mistakes.

- I wouldn't trust any man as far as you can throw a piano.

- I'll pat myself on the back and admit I have talent. Beyond that, I just happened to be in the right place at the right time.

- I've made a wonderful living playing that theatrical character - the professional brassy dame.

- I've never cooked. I can't do much more in the kitchen than make a cup of tea and some toast.

- I've never suffered stage fright. That fascinates people.

- If I feel in need of sleep, I just open a book or turn on the television. Both are better than any sleeping pill.

- In my case, things have pretty much been handed to me.

- Legend has it that when God created me, he gave me a big distinctive voice, a lot of boldness and no heart.

- Mom and Pop were proud of my popularity, but from their point of view, show business was no way to make a living.

- Mom claimed that I could carry a tune at 2 or 3 years of age. Maybe she was a little prejudiced.

- Music, in the past few years... anything singable or understandable is square.

- My beloved Mom and Pop always rated tops with each other, and that's the way it will always be.

- My career at Warner Brothers consisted of one musical short subject. I was running around in a bear skin. Very chic.

- My father taught me to read music and play the piano-but not well, even though people have said that I'm a natural musician.

- Of my four marriages, the one to Bob Levitt is the only one I don't regret.

- Once I had all the attention, all I had to do was deliver.

- The slapdash way producers used to assemble a show seems a little unbelievable when we talk about them now.

- There have been people who have tried to take advantage of me. They want to be linked to me just because I'm Ethel Merman.

- There's such a thing as theater discipline. One player doesn't appropriate another's inventions.

- When I'm asked how to succeed in show business, I always say I haven't the foggiest.

- When you are in deep conflict about something, sometimes the most trivial thing can tip the scales.

- There are lots of show tunes left to do.

- You can't buck a nun. (Losing the Tony for her Rose to Mary Martin's Maria von Trapp)

- Call Miss Bird's Eye 1950, this show is frozen! (being presented new lyrics for Call Me Madam)

"Don't Touch the Coat..."

Pacific Overtures is one of the most fascinating of Stephen Sondheim's musicals. To create a concept musical about the westernization of imperial Japan in the 19th century, and its impact on Japanese culture and traditions is not your typical Broadway fare. Sondheim studied Eastern music for months, director Hal prince adapted the styles of Kabuki theatre for the production in its design and staging. The results are mesmerizing. The show featured an almost all-male cast that included Mako, Yuki Shimodo (the original Ito in Auntie Mame!), Sab Shimino, Alvin Ing (who reprised his role for Roundabout) and Gedde Watanabe (anyone remember his memorable turn as the exchange student in Sixteen Candles? Anyone?). The show opened in 1976 at the Winter Garden, where it ran for 193 performances. I saw the Roundabout revival, starring B.D. Wong. While I didn't particularly care for that production on the whole, I was able to admire the brilliance in the writing of Sondheim and librettist John Weidman.

While the show begat the ever-brilliant favorite of Sondheim, "Someone in a Tree," I would have to admit that "Please, Hello" is my personal favorite song in the entire score (and one of the most ingenious ever written by Sondheim). It's mammoth 9 minute showstopping act two opener in which America, Britain, Holland, France and Russia are vying for detente with Japan. It's a marvel of sophistication, historical accuracy, pastiche (each country is represented by a native musical style) and vocal arrangement. The number was the highlight of the revival, bringing the show to a stand-still.

The original production was taped for broadcast on Japanese television, but has never been aired in the US. (Calling PBS!! Or Image Home Entertainment!)

Here is the original cast performing "Please, Hello." Enjoy.

Quote of the Day, plus a Book Recommendation

"It hits me: Life should be like musicals: along with the sentimental ballads and the sadness hiding in the shadows, laughs, lots of laughs, and dancing always. I think I understand that now.

You can write the pain (God knows there's enough of it), or you can let loose with the joy.

Why did I remember half this stuff? Because it's a memoir, pal.

But it's not. It's a musical comedy."

- Charles Strouse, from his memoir Put on a Happy Face

If you're itching for something to read, I highly suggest Mr. Strouse's memoir. I got it last night and finished it early this afternoon: it's engaging, honest and always entertaining (and occasionally dishy). There are many other amusing anecdotes and quotes, but you have to read the book in order to get some of those (Arthur Laurents, how could you? oh wait... we remember).

You get his perspective on the many shows of his career, from his summer revues at Green Mansions all the way up to Marty (which according to a photo caption in the book recorded a cast album last year with John C. Reilly and Carolee Carmello) and The Night They Invaded Minsky's (which will be mounted in LA at the Ahmanson in late 2009, with Bob Martin as the new librettist). Lots of colorful characters along the way. Mr. Strouse seems like a very congenial, approachable gentleman who has supplied us with several standards of the canon like Bye Bye Birdie and Annie, hits like Applause and Golden Boy, but also with several misfires, such as Rags, Annie 2, Bring Back Birdie, to name a few. I knew he and his frequent collaborator Lee Adams wrote the iconic "Those Were the Days" for All in the Family. What I didn't know was that the presentation with Jean Stapleton and Carroll O'Connor was Strouse's idea (stemming from a lack of budget and a nostalgic homage to his own parents). The only complaint? I wish the book were more in depth.

Florida Educator Terminated for Appearing in "The Full Monty"

Emil Steiner in the Washington Post blogs.

Is an educator responsible for the content of extra-curricular activities, (or pertaining to this incident: when appearing in a community theatre production of The Full Monty)?

Given the nature of the show, the nature of the production and the nature of the situation, I think that the school is overreacting. It's not as if the students were forced to participate in the event; it just doesn't seem fair. I hope someone finds this man a job - and soon.