The rain began to change to snow around 2 pm this afternoon.
Daylight is gone now, but the snow continues to fall.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Snow (again) in North Texas
The rain began to change to snow around 2 pm this afternoon.
Daylight is gone now, but the snow continues to fall.
Snow is coming
For the second time in a week, snow is predicted for the Dallas-Fort Worth metropolitan area. I'm really glad this is happening during winter break.
Blithe Spirit
I didn't know for sure if I could upload these photographs, but apparently I can. These are scenes from the 2009 Broadway revival of "Blithe Spirit," starring Angela Lansbury, Rupert Everett and Christine Ebersole.
I attended the play in early March, while it was still in previews (see previous posts.)
Blithe Spirit is a 1940 farce by Noel Coward. The "drawing room" comedy is about a remarried widower who accidentally summons the spirit of his first wife during a seance. The resulting chaos and tension between first wife and second wife is the basis for the laughs. Angela Lansbury portrayed the psychic, Madame Arcati, who engineers the ghostly deed. Lansbury brought an incredible and very literal, physical energy to this role. This particular performance was as much-anticipated as that of any actor I have ever seen in live theater. She received an ovation every time she appeared or exited a scene, no exceptions. She elicited guffaws from the audience as she danced and pranced and gyrated about the stage with delicious abandon transitioning into her pre-seance, psychic trance. Every word, every gesture was perfection -- equal parts of comedy and pathos.
Angela Lansbury has fascinated me since she first scared me as the brittle mother in "The World of Henry Orient."
This was Rupert Everett's Broadway debut and he was everything I'd hoped he be in the role of the urbane, put-upon Charles.
Jayne Atkinson played his second wife, the charmingly capable Ruth. I knew her name, but not her work. Then again, she looked so familiar, but I couldn't place the face. Finally, it came to me: Law and Order. The lady seated next to me, Sarah Roberts, who writes a wonderful blog about theater in New York, affirmed this.
(I suppose every New York-based stage or soap star gets a Law and Order star turn sooner or later.)
I had only one opportunity to see a theatrical event while I was in New York. I considered them all: Billy Elliott, Shrek the Musical, South Pacific, God of Carnage -- the whole panoply of theatrical experience presented itself that first week of March, 2009. However, I am very glad I chose Blithe Spirit. It's not that Angela Lansbury went on to claim a Tony for this role (she did) but rather that it was the perfect juxtaposition of everything I love: the Noel Coward piece, the amazing talents of Lansbury, Rupert Everett's Broadway debut and, oh my gosh, Christine Ebersole.
I forgot to mention Christine Ebersole as the ghostly first wife, Elvira.
I've been a Christine Ebersole fan for decades, since her days on the CBS sitcom, "The Cavanaughs," and on Saturday Night Live. But her singing voice is what delights and inspires awe. When she sang the "Queen of the Night" aria in the movie, "Amadeus," it became instantly my favorite piece of music. Although "Blithe Spirit" is a play, not a musical, the audience was treated to recordings of Ebersole singing Noel Coward songs between acts.
Too quickly, it was over. The play ended to a tremendous ovation from an obviously partisan (for Lansbury) audience. And, it was one of my best memories of 2009.
Another post about Blithe Spirit
"Blithe Spirit" opened to great reviews a couple of weeks later, but there is no doubt that Lansbury's performance carried the show.
Monday, December 28, 2009
Seeing Blithe Spirit on Broadway
March 4, 2009.
The doors to the Shubert Theater finally opened and I made my way to a fabulous seat, the result I think of being a single ticket purchase.
I had the great good fortune to be sitting next to a woman named Sarah Roberts, author of a dynamic and informed blog about the New York theater scene -- and beyond.
http://www.sarahbsadventures.com/
She clued me in to several things I would have missed. First, my astonishment at seeing someone who looked very familiar.
"Is that Barbara Walters?" I asked.
"Yes, it is," Sarah confirmed. "You often see her in the audience."
Barbara's father, Lou Walters, was a famed impressario in New York.
Sarah also pointed out the play's director, Michael Blakemore, sitting just across the aisle and taking notes. The play was still in previews so Mr. Blakemore was making some adjustments and tweaks. I saw him writing furiously in his notebook and could only wonder at what changes were being wrought even as we sat there.
Then, at intermission, I walked around a bit and saw a gentleman who looked familiar. He was leaning ever so elegantly against the chest-high divider that separates the cozy theater bar from the rest of the house. He appeared to be by himself, although I saw him occasionally nod to an acquaintance here and there. He had a sort of Ted Kennedy mien and a sturdy, thickset body to match. Where had I seen him before?
Then, it hit me: William Windom.
At almost that same moment, he looked directly at me, raised an eyebrow and smiled, as if to say: "Yes, you're right."
I remembered him from my childhood as the widowed congressman in TV's "The Farmer's Daughter." And, although I never watched "Murder, She Wrote," I recalled that Windom was one of a few recurring characters on the show. He was no doubt there in support of his former co-star, Ms. Lansbury.
The doors to the Shubert Theater finally opened and I made my way to a fabulous seat, the result I think of being a single ticket purchase.
I had the great good fortune to be sitting next to a woman named Sarah Roberts, author of a dynamic and informed blog about the New York theater scene -- and beyond.
http://www.sarahbsadventures.com/
She clued me in to several things I would have missed. First, my astonishment at seeing someone who looked very familiar.
"Is that Barbara Walters?" I asked.
"Yes, it is," Sarah confirmed. "You often see her in the audience."
Barbara's father, Lou Walters, was a famed impressario in New York.
Sarah also pointed out the play's director, Michael Blakemore, sitting just across the aisle and taking notes. The play was still in previews so Mr. Blakemore was making some adjustments and tweaks. I saw him writing furiously in his notebook and could only wonder at what changes were being wrought even as we sat there.
Then, at intermission, I walked around a bit and saw a gentleman who looked familiar. He was leaning ever so elegantly against the chest-high divider that separates the cozy theater bar from the rest of the house. He appeared to be by himself, although I saw him occasionally nod to an acquaintance here and there. He had a sort of Ted Kennedy mien and a sturdy, thickset body to match. Where had I seen him before?
Then, it hit me: William Windom.
At almost that same moment, he looked directly at me, raised an eyebrow and smiled, as if to say: "Yes, you're right."
I remembered him from my childhood as the widowed congressman in TV's "The Farmer's Daughter." And, although I never watched "Murder, She Wrote," I recalled that Windom was one of a few recurring characters on the show. He was no doubt there in support of his former co-star, Ms. Lansbury.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
March in New York -- and the Shubert Theater
One of my best memories of the year came on March 4 when I saw the Broadway revival of Noel Coward's "Blithe Spirit," with Angela Lansbury, Rupert Everett and Jayne Atkinson.
I was in New York on business for nearly a week in late February and early March and on my last night decided to visit the half-price tickets place at Times Square to see what was available. The play was actually still in "previews," but playing to a full house every night. I was very grateful to get a good seat.
I met some friends for drinks, then set out by myself for the Shubert on West 44th Street. The streets were still banked with snow from a snowstorm from two days earlier (that had closed New York public schools for the first time in 14 years.)
I arrived in plenty of time to give myself a quick tour of the amazing and historic theater with its romantic Venetian Renaissance facade and its quaint, blunted entrance, sitting catty-cornered to Shubert Alley. Once inside, I was delighted to spend some quality time in the antiquated and overheated little foyer. Abundant, gas-fueled warmth flowed through a half-dozen ancient floor grates. A plaque on the foyer wall designates the Shubert's longest tenant as "A Chorus Line," which ran for 6,137 performances from 1975 to 1990. Yet, this room is frozen in the 1940s, not the 1970s.
While standing there, I overheard some theatre regulars remarking that playwright Horton Foote--whom Texans are proud to claim--had died just a few hours earlier.
The person sharing this information was a well-known organizer of theater "tours" -- a former actor whom I recognized from his television work. But, this wasn't the only famous person I would spot on this interesting evening -- not on the stage but in the audience and in the bar area during intermission.
More to come.
I was in New York on business for nearly a week in late February and early March and on my last night decided to visit the half-price tickets place at Times Square to see what was available. The play was actually still in "previews," but playing to a full house every night. I was very grateful to get a good seat.
I met some friends for drinks, then set out by myself for the Shubert on West 44th Street. The streets were still banked with snow from a snowstorm from two days earlier (that had closed New York public schools for the first time in 14 years.)
I arrived in plenty of time to give myself a quick tour of the amazing and historic theater with its romantic Venetian Renaissance facade and its quaint, blunted entrance, sitting catty-cornered to Shubert Alley. Once inside, I was delighted to spend some quality time in the antiquated and overheated little foyer. Abundant, gas-fueled warmth flowed through a half-dozen ancient floor grates. A plaque on the foyer wall designates the Shubert's longest tenant as "A Chorus Line," which ran for 6,137 performances from 1975 to 1990. Yet, this room is frozen in the 1940s, not the 1970s.
While standing there, I overheard some theatre regulars remarking that playwright Horton Foote--whom Texans are proud to claim--had died just a few hours earlier.
The person sharing this information was a well-known organizer of theater "tours" -- a former actor whom I recognized from his television work. But, this wasn't the only famous person I would spot on this interesting evening -- not on the stage but in the audience and in the bar area during intermission.
More to come.
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