Tag Archives: Broadway

Haiku Review: The Bridges of Madison County

14 Feb

Well hello there!! I know, I know, it’s been a long time. What can I say, I wandered. But now I am back, awakening this here blog from its long slumber.

I see that the last time I posted it was about ‘Far From Heaven’*, and my final thought was that I couldn’t wait to see the Kelli O’Hara and Steven Pasquale in ‘The Bridges of Madison County’, where they could play a couple who actually wanted to make out with each other instead of the sexless duo of ‘Far From Heaven’. Well, funnily enough on Wednesday I saw Bridges, and BOY HOWDY ARE THOSE TWO GOOD AT PLAYING A COUPLE WHO WANT TO MAKE OUT WITH EACH OTHER. Dayamn!**

But, as we all know, my general philosophy is never to talk about something when I could butcher an ancient form of Japanese poetry about it instead. So without further ado, some Haiku for ‘The Bridges of Madison County’:

It is freezing out
But on mid-45th street
It is steamy hot.

For real, Francesca.
Dump your family and their cow.
You’ve seen Robert’s abs.

So, we all agree
Whitney Bashor is a star
In the making, yes?

If the teenage boys
look like that, Iowa cows
Are full of Muscle Milk.

You know that a show
Has hit your heart when the tears
Start to hit your boobs.

Jason Robert Brown
Between this, Parade, 13…
Uch, I can’t even.

A great love story
For eternity and more
Is me and this show.

*Go back to my haikus about Far From Heaven, the first one absolutely applies here too. That Kelli O’Hara, man. She just sings right to your heart.
**I thought of a line I love regarding this particular heat, but it is far too filthy to post in public and I don’t want to scandalize my proper WASP ancestors. So if you’re curious and you see me around, ask me and I’ll tell you.

Something I Never Noticed Before about ‘The Phantom of The Opera’

14 Jun

I forgot one thing from my Tony Awards thoughts round-up: a realization I had while watching the number from ‘The Phantom of the Opera’.

First of all, I love Phantom (no really, I do – my friend Dave and I went back this year to see Sierra Boggess and both became unironically re-obsessed with the show). However, I don’t know about you guys watching at home, but from the house that number sounded as tinned as a can of SPAM. I’m sure those guys can actually really sing, but I think Dave and I could have lip-synced it and been just as convincing, considering how piped in it sounded (by the way, Dave and I are totally available to lip-sync the entire show, anytime).

BUT, that is not what I came on here to say. What I actually noticed was the lyric “and though you turn from me to glance behind”. How can she be turning from him to glance behind? He’s behind her on the boat! She’d have to sort of lean to the side and look around him to glance behind, which wouldn’t really be turning from him. So, to be accurate, the lyric would have to be “and though you crane your head to glance behind” or “and though you scooch ’round me to glance behind.”  Or, alternately, the lyric could be “and though you turn from me to glance in front,” which I suppose is much lamer.

They’ve sort of half solved it with the staging, which points the boat upstage on the lyric.  That means the boat is facing back the way they came, and she is indeed turning from him to glance behind on their journey. However, this messes up the suspension of disbelief that the Phantom is piloting the boat through many dark cavernous passageways, since if she’s indeed looking back the way they came, he definitely just piloted them in a big old circle. Which is possible – I mean, he is wearing a mask on one eye, it’s possible he has really bizarre peripheral vision and has a hard time going forward (especially with a steering device that only goes on one side of the boat, and a wide, short boat – those things are impossible to make go straight), or that he just wants to show off all the pretty candles that it probably took him forever to light.

Here, take a gander for yourself – the boaty goodness starts at about 3:10:

But hey, it could be much worse: in the movie, the Phantom sings that lyric having just put Christine on the horse that INEXPLICABLY LIVES IN THE UNDERGROUND CATACOMBS OF THE PARIS OPERA HOUSE, FULLY TACKED, AND PROCEEDS TO TAKE CHRISTINE ABOUT FORTY FEET THAT SHE COULD HAVE VERY EASILY WALKED HERSELF. So really, whether she’s looking back or not is the least of the logical problems at that moment.

 

By the way, this might be the first in a new blog series calls ‘Anika Overthinks Theater’.

More Awards for the Tony Awards

12 Jun

I think we can all agree, this year Broadway’s biggest night was BAD. ASS. Back at Radio City after a few years at the Beacon, the Tony Awards managed to fill the gigantic space with pure theater joy. I was lucky enough to be watching from the orchestra seats (right behind Jesse Eisenberg! You can sort of see my left ear and shoulder in a really quick shot, so I’m basically a famous person now, FYI). The show was delightful from there too – no small feat considering you are sitting in your seat for four plus hours straight, and it’s hot under those lights, and so most people are just sweaty hangry spanxy messes by the end.

Despite all the awards handed out during the show, I felt that there were some awards left hanging. So, I thought I would step in to fill that void with some awards of my own. Thus, without further ado:

Best Avoidance of Misuse of Power: Neil Patrick Harris

Can we just agree that Neil Patrick Harris is the best host of anything ever? I mean, seriously, the dude did like seven things in the opening number that the vast majority of regular humans cannot do, and he did a lot of them at the same time. And yet the entire time he made it seem like piking through hoops and being lifted by cheerleaders while also singing and being incredibly charming was the easiest thing ever. At the end of that number (which made me cry with pure Broadway love upon rewatching), the audience in Radio City had so collectively lost their minds with the overwhelming face-melting joy of it all that Neil Patrick Harris could have commanded us all to do pretty much whatever he wanted, and we would have done it – crowd-surfed the cast out like we were a giant mosh pit, opened our wallets, stormed the barricade, murdered Michael Reidel. Instead he just kept on hosting the show, like a BOSS.

Tony Loss Most Personally Upsetting To Anika Chapin: Bertie Carvel

This isn’t to take anything away from Billy Porter, who is amazing and deserves prizes. But dang, Bertie Carvel created another species of human being on that stage, and it was one of my favorite performances of all time.

Tony Performance Most Representative of the Show Itself: Motown

Motown’s performance started out great – fun dancing and singing of songs everybody loves. And then, much like the show itself, it got to the point where you thought “well that was fun, I suppose it should be wrapping up now,” and there proceeded to be many more long minutes of performance, on a diminishing scale of funness. Motown, you’ve got some great stuff in you, but you are too. Fucking. Long.

Most Mystifying to an Entire Audience/viewing Public: The Rascals

What the hell WAS that?! Maybe I was distracted by Steve Van Zandt’s ‘I Am My Own Wife’ headscarf, but there was a distinct aura of confusion in the house when The Rascals did their performance. The show itself was a bit of a mystery – it just popped up one day in a theater like a strange psychedelic Brigadoon – and I don’t think the performance helped clarify anything. So it’s about… a band? It IS the band? There’s some trippy projections and someone from The Sopranos? Is the entire show an immersive experience to simulate an acid trip? Inquiring minds want to know.

Best Argument for Immediate Casting as a Comedic Character in a Comedy: Laura Benanti

That TV number was genius, and all four of its participants were great. But damn, Laura Benanti is HILARIOUS. And yet, she’s most often cast as the sweet, sort-of-ditsy female straight man. She’s a talented actress, so I’m not saying she doesn’t also do that well, but come ON, people. Just because she’s gorgeous doesn’t mean she and her genius comedy instincts couldn’t be the smart funny lead of her own show. Get with it, producers and TV execs.

Best Argument for Immediate Casting as a Batman Villain: Cicely Tyson

Cicely Tyson proved herself a legend with with her moving and dignified acceptance speech, and she proved herself a legend twice over by pulling off a dress no other human being on the planet could possibly rock:

But I can’t help but think that she would be triply legendary if she wore this exact look straight on over to Gotham City. Think about it: she could be the regal Lady Aubergine, capable of hypnotizing the good people of Gotham with her velvet voice and dignified dramatic pauses, only to kill them with poison darts from her ruffles.

Best Embodiment of the Full Variety of Sexiness: Scarlet Johansson and Alan Cumming

   Big props to both of these guys for being so funny and gracious about not being nominated, but also, dayamn!! With ScarJo in black and Alan Cumming in white, they were like the yin and yang of sexy: completely opposite types, one lush and voluptuous, one skinny and unusual, but both possessed of that ineffable juju that makes everyone in the world want to do it to them.

Best Visual Description of a Weird Problem with Broadway: the NINETY BILLION PRODUCERS onstage with every show. 

  Sweet lord jeebus, there were a ton of people accepting awards for the winning shows! I counted 26 people for ‘Whose Afraid of Virginia Woolf’, a show that featured a cast of four people. I know the economics of producing Broadway are getting increasingly complicated, but it feels like if we keep going this way it’ll just be easier to put the camera on the audience and have everyone who DIDN’T produce the show raise their hands.

Best Accessorizing of a Tony: Fran Weissler

  She won a shiny silver Tony for the stellar revival of ‘Pippin’, and it happened to go perfectly with her awesome and gigantic necklace. Whether she had won or not, that is the necklace of a winner. Or a queen from an exotic kingdom on ‘Game of Thrones’, which is pretty much the same thing.

Just the Best: NPH, Lin-Manuel Miranda, Tommy Kail, and Audra McDonald. 

   Just, blargh, you guys. This quartet – my brain can’t form worthy words. Between the opening number, the final rap, the sassiness with which Audra McD chimed in, there’s just too much goodness here, so I’ll let their final moment speak for itself:

Roundabout’s ‘Assassins’ Concert, As Covered By Two Chapins

3 Jun

The most recent issue of the Sondheim Review has something pretty exciting for the family Chapin – a big old piece written by none other than yours truly and my father, Ted Chapin. Now you’re probably saying, “well of COURSE, Anika, we already know this because we subscribe/buy the Sondheim Review regularly, because why would we not want to fill our lives with even more Sondheimian joy?” to which I say, good for you, as well you should. But I’ve included it here for those of you who haven’t yet bought your copy (it’s the one with the stars of CSC’s Passion on the cover, because APPARENTLY Ryan Silverman and Melissa Errico locked in a passionate embrace is more likely to sell magazines than two squinty-eyed Chapins. WHATEVER.)

The piece is an account of the Roundabout Theatre Company’s December reunion concert of their 2004 production of Assassins. As you will read, the show is beloved by both Dad and myself, and it was great fun both diving into one of my favorite productions and getting to share it with my dad. Although it’s probably clear which voice is which if you’re a regular reader of my blog, I’ve put Dad’s stuff in italics, for clarity and so that everything he says automatically sounds more dramatic.

 

Anika Chapin: For about six months, I have had an entry in my calendar for December 3 saying simply “best night ever.” That might sound a bit overwrought (I tend to get a little effusive in the company of my own calendar), but as soon as I heard that a reunion concert of Assassins was happening, I knew I had to be there.

Ted Chapin: My story with ASSASSINS begins when I ran the Musical Theater Lab in the late 1970’s. Stuart Ostrow created a program with the Dramatists Guild, working closely with his small board of directors that included Bob Fosse and Stephen Sondheim. The idea was for new musicals to be submitted, and then they would be examined and processed through a series of work sessions with established musical theater artists.  It never happened, for reasons I don’t remember, but one of the submissions was ASSASSINS by Charles Gilbert.  Sondheim expressed interest in the title, and so I sent the material over to his Turtle Bay house.

Anika: To put it simply, Assassins is important to me. I have been a musical theater fan almost all of my life, brought to my first musical by my father, a lifer himself, when I was six months old (I am told I was mesmerized by the lights going down, but had some book problems with act two.) I was the kind of kid who listened to Les Miserables on the way to school and Into the Woods on the way home, and who still remembers some of the facts of American history by mentally reviewing the numbers in 1776. But when I first heard Assassins, I was stunned.

Ted: I was invited to a reading at Playwrights Horizons – there were two done in one day, and I went to the second.  I was knocked out by what I heard – audacious, bold, dark, yet tuneful.  And quite stunning.  When the final scene took place literally in the Texas School Book Depository building with Lee Harvey Oswald being visited by the assassins and would-be assassins from the past, my jaw dropped.  Being old enough to have remembered that day in Dallas, I couldn’t believe they were actually creating a scene in which Oswald would be egged on to kill Kennedy in order for him, a nobody, to be remembered.   Wow, I thought. This is pretty amazing.   Although I got a quick sense of just how controversial the show would end up being when I checked in with my father Schuyler Chapin who had been at the earlier reading.  As one of the very few fans of the presidency of Warren G. Harding, he had a hard time with the subject matter, although he was and remained a huge Sondheim fan.  When he ran the Metropolitan Opera, he tried to convince Sondheim to write an opera.

Anika: This was something different from anything I had encountered before: theater that broke the rules I knew to ask questions that reached into the dark underbelly of my country and culture. I loved that the songs each reflected the era of their respective subjects and I adored that the show wasn’t afraid to humanize the assassins, to make them characters instead of simple monsters. And the last scene in the John Weidman book accomplished something I had never experienced in theater before, and have only rarely experienced since. Over the course of a single scene I was made to understand that which I thought I could never understand: exactly why Lee Harvey Oswald might commit his atrocious act. It was powerful, and it was terrifying, and it is not an exaggeration to say that Assassins taught me what theater, and specifically musical theater, could do. It’s very possible that the roots of my current life as a Dramaturg began in the many long hours I spent listening and re-listening to the cast album, noticing new musical quotations or lines in the final scene that I hadn’t before, or writing essays in my head about the relationship between the audience and the narrator figure in Sondheim’s musicals (doesn’t everyone write mental essays about Sondheim shows on long subway commutes?)

Ted: On the evening I was schedule to see the full Playwrights Horizons production in 1991, I was invited to a cocktail party in an apartment across from River House, as far East as you can get on 52nd Street.  Attending the party was Jacqueline Onassis.I asked someone to introduce me to her.  She was ever gracious, as we spoke about children and schools in New York, and how my boss Dorothy Rodgers had worked with Caroline’s husband Edwin Schlossberg.  It was only as I left the party that I realized how peculiar it was that I would leave that gathering and venture across town to see ASSASSINS.  The audience I saw that production with didn’t seem to love the show – I am not sure why, but somehow they weren’t willing to embrace it.  

Anika: So as you might imagine, when the Roundabout production happened in 2004, I was ecstatic – finally I would get a chance to see the show I had loved and imagined for so long, brought to life by a group of actors that was almost an embarrassment of riches. Unfortunately, I was also in New Zealand on a study abroad semester that was scheduled to end after the run of the show. So, in the words of Dot, I did what I had to do… I cut my study abroad short and flew back to catch the show (sorry, Vassar!)

Ted: Part of what made the 2004 Roundabout production so remarkable, was that this time, thirteen years later,  audiences accepted the show with all its dark underbelly and comic insanities.  Somehow the production the Roundabout gave the show fit in a way that the original production hadn’t.  (I didn’t much like the Sam Mendes production at the Donmar Warehouse in London which was  the first show of his tenure there.) 

Anika: It was worth it. Although I had loved the show I imagined in my head through myriad listenings, seeing the production on stage was far better; the cast made the characters alive and heartbreaking, and the show was funnier, and a little more surreal, then I had thought. Some elements, when staged, surprised me: the Balladeer and the Proprietor felt much more like counterparts, one advocating for hope and the other urging vengeance for the failure of the American dream. Although I knew the last scene so well I could probably have recited it along with the actors, I was freshly swayed by the terrifying reality that to be hated and remembered is still being remembered, and freshly devastated when it reached its conclusion. Since Joe Mantello’s production made the Balladeer become Lee Harvey Oswald, the argument stung even more; the voice of hope and reason had finally been convinced. And ‘Something Just Broke’, which I had never heard before, left me weeping. Experiencing the pain of a country mourning together was a reminder of what horrors these characters, whom I had come to know and love over the course of the evening, had committed.

Ted: Which brings us to December 3, 2012.  It had been eight years since the original Roundabout production.  Usually at the one-night-only reunion concert events – which have now become almost a genre – it’s interesting to see actors who have soft-pedaled their careers in the interim, or dropped out entirely, or those whose physicality has changed. Sometimes the evening becomes a kind of spiritual homecoming.  This time it was extraordinary that everyone, with the exception of Eamon Foley who was 8 in 2004, looked, sounded, and acted like 2004 was yesterday.  How great it was to see Neil Patrick Harris, Michael Cerveris, Becky Ann Baker, James Barbour, Mario Cantone, Alexander Gemignani, Marc Kudisch, Jeffrey Kuhn, Dennis O’Hare – and Anne Nathan, Merwin Foard, etc.  The audience cheered as the cast came on, all except Harris, whose later entrance was not only greeted with another round of applause, but was entirely artistically appropriate for the character of the Balladeer.

Anika: I discovered all those things anew in the reunion concert. Once again the show I thought I knew so well surprised me, including with how well it takes to a minimalist concert staging. The Mystery of Edwin Drood’s music hall set, borrowed for the evening, was surprisingly effective; the side balconies gave the sense that we might be seeing the whole show at Ford’s theater, a happy (if slightly morbid) bit of kismet. Marc Kudisch, back as the Proprietor, and Neil Patrick Harris, as the Balladeer, sat at opposite ends of the stage, further underlining their status as opposing forces. And the cast, reunited almost in full (Annaleigh Ashford took over from Mary Catherine Garrison as Squeaky Fromme, effortlessly and hilariously) looked even more like a group lined up in their contemporary black outfits, each with a hint of their character; they were individuals from different times and places who nonetheless belong together, linked forever by their frightening, terrible, desperate, fascinating acts. But mostly, I was reminded just how powerful and important Assassins is. I can think of no other work that examines with such bold curiosity the question of what happens when the great promise of the American Dream sours. Sondheim’s work often explores the idea of what happens after dreams do or do not come true (Sweeney Todd and Into the Woods are the primary examples, but each with a very different form of dream), but Assassins asks a question that feels most urgent for us to answer: if our culture has become one in which fleeting fame or the pain of many feels like equal payment for an individual’s failed dreams, what can we expect but more of the same?

Ted: The evening was a success on many levels, starting with the $850,000 that the theater raised for its musical theater program in the one night only event.  (The chairman of the board announced that astonishing news before the show began).  That meant our $500 tickets provided us with seats in the last row of the orchestra, and a chit for a sippy cup of white wine before the festivities began.  How great that Sondheim’s work has become so well supported, both by fans and by his stalwart financial supporters, who were well represented: Mary Jo and Ted Shen were the chairs, and Perry and Marty Granoff were listed as well.

Anika: The concert on December 3 might have been a reunion, but it was also a reminder that this material is as fresh today as it was eight, or even 23, years ago. Sitting in the audience listening to this stellar cast bring Assassins to life again, I realized that I have been listening to the show for almost twenty years now, which is two thirds of my life so far. I plan on continuing to listen to it. I suspect I will be discovering new details of the book and the score 20 years from now, and 20 years from then. And if future generations of Chapins happen to love the show as much as my father and I do, I would be thrilled. There might be some dark family sing-alongs in the future.

Lingering Questions about ‘Jekyll and Hyde’, with Haiku Review

16 May

I’ve been sitting on this post for a while, because I was almost ready to roll with it when ‘Jekyll and Hyde’ posted its notice. No matter what I think of a show, that’s always a sad occasion, and my heart goes out to the talented bunch in the show, who all deserve to be in longer-running, better shows.

That being said, am I going to let the show off the hook? Absolutely not! I have been secretly looking forward to seeing it for months, ever since they released their vinyl-scented-Hot-Topic-Haunted-House-sex-orgy promo video. I do love a mix of camp and power belting, if I do say so myself, and the promise of the corsets AND pop stars AND Victorian murder shimmered with the promise of that most ethereal and elusive of guilty pleasures, the ‘fun bad’. I girded my consciousness with two Joe Allen martinis and sat down in my seat, thinking this, maybe, was the moment after all. The moment when I could relive the combination of stunned disbelief and inner joy that I felt when I saw the original production, and knew that I would be re-enacting Jekyll and Hyde’s hair-flipping solo duet (Soet? Dulo?) for years to come. As I have.

So did the new production deliver? Meh. Perhaps it is the Dramaturg in me, but I found myself more often pondering the many questions the show prompts than delighting in a gothic fun-fest. So I thought I would share a few of my thoughts about the show with you all, followed by the haikus that I wrote in my head during the epic stretches of show when… you know, I can’t even remember. Some stuff happens, I guess. But certainly not character development or anything (how about those female characters? Like the one who sings in a soprano and is loyal and pretty, or the other one who belts and is sexy. Not since Mama Rose has there been such complex characterization).

Anyhoo, here are my lingering questions on the show:

1. Really, they have no better way to store their insane people? The show begins with Jekyll bemoaning the state of his father, who is confined to an insane asylum. But when I say confined, I mean strapped to a tiled wall a few feet into the air like a giant moth. Now this is sort of an interesting visual in a ‘Tom Waits in Dracula‘ way, but you just stare at him and think, isn’t there a better place to store this guy? Like, say, the ground?

2. Okay, seriously, nobody recognizes Hyde? Because he is literally JUST Jekyll with his hair down. And a coat. And yet nobody seems to have any idea who this mystery man is – not the hospital board members who have been following his career, not the lawyer who has known him for years, not the prostitute who is in love with Jekyll but has regular sex with Hyde (and who sings of looking deeply into Jekyll’s eyes, so presumably she knows what his face looks like). Seriously, though, guys. It’s not like he’s wearing a Scream mask or dressed as his dead mother – it’s JUST the hair. This begs the question of how Jekyll has been living before then – has he tried to change his look occasionally and discovered that nobody recognizes him? Did he cut his hair once and have his family call the police on him when they thought he was an intruder? Inquiring minds want to know.

Who is that mystery man?!!? Oh wait, is his hair HALF back?! Does that mean he’s mid-transformation?

 

3. What exactly is that contraption in Jekyll’s lab? Because it looks like the world’s largest beer hat, if it were designed for the gay club Splash. And how exactly does this whole formula work? Jekyll requires a lot of chemicals, and then seems to have a little soda bottle of the formula, which he then droppers into a series of large beakers of a clear (or red, given the disco lighting) liquid, which then turn green. There are eight of those things, which attach to tubes that attach to a neck collar and a sort of android-looking wrist thing, which Jekyll wears the first time. Why do you need eight tubes of the same formula? Wouldn’t one suffice? And if later he drinks the formula, why doesn’t he just do that the first time? Wouldn’t that be easier?

CHUG IT! CHUG IT!!

Wait, is that a water bottle he’s holding?! You’re not even TRYING, show.

4. Does anyone in this show make good decisions? I mean, really, you can’t get a series of victims more responsible for their own fates. The hospital board members are being slowly picked off, and yet only one of them is like, “hey, clearly there’s a pattern here, I should probably leave.” But that’s nothing compared to Lucy, the tragic prostitute, who receives a letter saying she is in grave danger and should leave immediately, with a wad of cash so she can do that. But does she pack her few things (which seem to be primarily white cottony underthings, even though we really only ever see her in red and black leather) and book it out of there? Nope, she decides to sing a power ballad about her hopes for a new life. Now, I am no fan of blaming the victim, but I do think that if you receive a letter explicitly saying to leave immediately because a murderer is after you, then you decided to do some power belting about it instead of just scooting, your impending murder is a little bit on you.

 

And now for the poetry:

 

Just calling it now –
My new nickname for the show
Is ‘Dreckyll and Hyde’.

 

Where is this show set?
According to the accents,
Deep South Aussie France.

 

An epic battle
Between a man and his two
Competing hairstyles.

 

 

Haiku Review: Kinky Boots

11 Apr

Why bother writing?
Just hide your show’s problems in
Drop splits and glitter.

The show’s true title:
‘The Full Billy Elliot,
Queen of the Desert’?*

Some really fun things
But oh my god those accents
Are not one of them.

Odd dude, Charlie Price:
In act 1 he’s a great guy
Act 2, a bigot.

I’d totally wear
The finale’s ‘riding’ look
I am not kidding.

It could be great, but
Cheap muggy pandering
Drowns out potential.

*Partially stolen from my genius sister.

Poster Roaster: Rebecca

19 Jul

Good news, guys! Finally someone’s going to be doing a musical about dragons:

via theatermania.com

No? Rebecca is in fact about a shy woman who marries a man who lives in a big old house and then is weirdly traumatized by the housekeeper who idolized the man’s first wife? Oh. Well, forgive my confusion, because I just saw those red licks of flame on the big ‘R’ there and assumed that the only reason those would possibly be on a Broadway show poster was if it were going to be a musical about dragons, or possibly Corky St. Clair’s long-awaited transfer of ‘Backdraft: The Musical’ (with real flames!).

But no. Alas.

Now, in itself, a musical version of the classic movie ‘Rebecca’ isn’t a bad idea. There’s high drama, love and death and obsession and big houses in the British countryside. However, I don’t remember it being about the dangers of living on the British coast. But oddly enough, the main image (if we put aside that giant R for a moment) is of the tossing waves of a stormy sea (which are close enough to those red flames that one wonders if they couldn’t just handily put out that dragon fire), with a dark and foreboding house (presumably the famous Manderley) lurking in the background. Now as I recall, the ocean does play a small part in the unfolding of ‘Rebecca’s plot, but only a small one – perhaps this is all intended to be somehow metaphorical? The waves are the waves of high drama, crashing onto the rocks of emotional wrenching-ness? No?

Let’s move upwards a bit, past the turgid grey clouds of inevitable power ballads, and back to our friend the big flaming R. Clearly, this is the fancy part of the house, representing the majesty of Manderley. But it’s a bit too shiny, isn’t it? It looks like the logo of a tacky hotel chain that advertises itself as being classy but where all the flower arrangements are fake and slightly dusty. And combined with the background, there’s sort of an interesting wild/civilized juxtopposition that almost works, but mostly just makes the whole thing look like an ad for the new hotel, the Wuthering Hilton.  

And oh look, if the shinyness of the gold and the odd red flames (can gold burn, anyway?) didn’t seem like enough to burden this one letter with, they’ve also helfpully stuck a face inside the R (side note: between this and ‘Bring it On’, what is it with shoving people inside show logos? Is this a strange new trend?). And by ‘inside’, I don’t mean in the little picture window helpfully provided by the shape of the letter ‘R’ itself, I mean awkwardly stuck in the long side part. Because in case you’ve been looking at the poster and confused because, wait, is Rebecca the one with the crazy attic wife, or the one with Heathcliff? And did Daniel Radcliffe just star in a movie version of this?, the lady in the shiny R is here to remind you that, in fact, ‘Rebecca’ is about a woman. Three women, actually: Cathy, Jane Eyre, and Leona Helmsley. Just kidding! It’s the unnamed protagonist, crazy housekeeper Mrs. Danvers, and the titular Rebecca herself, perhaps the most complicated, magnetic, fascinating character ever to dominate a story in which she never technically appears. And lest we forget, the story that ‘Rebecca’ tells, about this strange triangle between these three, is a great story, one of the best psychological thrillers out there, and deservedly a classic. But according to this poster, the show about storms and fire and trapped faces and shiny gold splendor.

But hey, maybe the show won’t be so bad. Fingers crossed they did add a dragon.