Tag Archives: Neil Patrick Harris

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:

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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.

My Lingering Thoughts on the Oscars

26 Feb

So, the Oscars happened last night. And I have thoughts! So let’s just dive in, shall we?

-First of all, did anyone else feel like they didn’t have a horse in this race at all? I saw a bunch of the nominated movies, more than I usually do, and my feeling on almost each and every category was ‘yeah, whichever is fine.’ Not because there weren’t great performances or great movies, but I just didn’t feel personally attached to any of them this year. Honestly, I think my favorite performance of the year was Hadley Fraser in Les Mis, because he managed to make the guy who sings “you at the barricades listen to this” into a character with a rich full inner life and history, and I didn’t think that was even possible.

-Renee Zellweger, what the hell?! I spend a good chunk of my life saying that we squinty-eyed folk actually do have functional eyeballs, and then you go and stumble around oddly and seemingly can’t read anything. Get it together, Zellweger!! We need you! The large-eyed Tarsier people are winning!!

-One of my favorite things about this Oscars was the fact that Quentin Tarantino’s date was a woman named Lianne Spiderbaby:

This is awesome for a number of reasons. First of all, because I adore that dress and always support messy sidebraiding. Secondly, because if you google image her a lot of photos of her with knives and blood come up, which leads me to believe that they are one of those ‘inevitable’ couples, like Bjork and Matthew Barney and Tim Burton and Helena Bonham-Carter. I mean, who else would they date? “So, what are you into?” “Oh, graphic violence. Blood spatter. You know.” “Oh my god, me too!!” See what I mean? And lastly, and most obviously, because her name is Lianne SPIDERBABY. I would like to imagine that many generations ago in a little village somewhere, a town elder said “John who mills we shall call John Miller. And Robert the barrel-maker shall be Robert Cooper. But whatever shall we call Sven, who midwives the arachnids?”

-How amazingly charming were Channing Tatum and Charlize Theron dancing? Who knew?!?! And Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Daniel Radcliffe?! I mean, come on now. I think they should host the Oscars next year as a saucy song-and-dance team, and Charlize Theron and Channing Tatum can just glide on in whenever there’s a transition or a joke that doesn’t go well.

-What is with these otherwise fashionable girls choosing wan ill-fitting pink prom-y dresses to actually win an Oscar in? Between Gwyneth Paltrow in this:

And Anne Hathaway in this:

It’s like there’s something about the promise of an Oscar that makes ladies think that they must find some pink satin stat, but not invite any boob support to the party. And then pair the look with a necklace that doesn’t suit the neckline (Anne Hathaway’s necklace drove me nuts. No necklace with that neckline – long simple earrings! Arm full of bracelets! Rookie mistake!!)
Come on, ladies. If you want to do a pink dress that says THAT’S RIGHT, BITCHES, I AM WINNING A FUCKING OSCAR TONIGHT, take a look at Fan Bingbing:

Fan Bingbing is one of my favorites always, because she is a woman who knows how to wear a dress. Probably very few on the red carpet knew who she was, but I bet when she passed, every single head turned. Take notes, ladies – that’s how you win the evening, whether or not you win the Oscar.

-I feel like Kristen Stewart on the red carpet is the equivalent of those toddlers you see responding to having to go somewhere they don’t want to go by throwing a tantrum and then becoming dead weight that their parents have to drag; they’ll go, but they’ll make it as hard as possible and let you know that they are miserable the whole time. I always think when I see Kristen Stewart that she probably HAS to go to some events, but I doubt she HAS to go to the Oscars. And if she does HAVE to, please remember that your profession is being an actor, K-Stew. You could at least act like having to put on a dress and comb your hair isn’t the most miserable boring thing that has ever happened to you.

-For real, is Nicole Kidman wearing the Batman logo over her navel?

I loved this dress on camera (it’s so shiny she looks like a seal just coming out of water in the red carpet photos), but I honestly can’t figure out that belt. Is she signalling her willingness to take over the franchise when Christian Bale leaves? Is she telling us with the very Klimt-ian gold swirls at the bottom (which match the design on the floor of the stage) that she wants to be a new villain called ‘The Kisser’? Inquiring minds want to know.

-Speaking of those swirls on the stage, those are EXACTLY the doodles I used to draw all over the stage in high school. I even drew them on a lampshade when I was in my DIY phase in college.

-I love that they did a tribute to musicals, then did three musicals. You know, only those three musicals that they’ve made movies of. Good thing they could think of those three, because there certainly aren’t any other possible choices to include. I mean, really, if they were going to pay tribute to something, they really should have picked an industry with a rich full selection of options, not puny musical theater. And there’s definitely no other musicals on film. That must have been hard for them.

-Hey, remember when the Tonys had Lin-Manuel Miranda and Tommy Kail write a rap about the show for Neil Patrick Harris to do at the end of the evening? Remember how funny and perfect and awesome that was? Then remember last night when Kristen Chenoweth came out, and dueted on what was Seth MacFarlane’s maybe fifth unfunny song of the evening? Yeah.

-How adorable was it when Hugh Jackman came to Jennifer Lawrence’s rescue when she tripped on the stairs? Can we just declare Hugh Jackman to be officially the best human being ever? I mean seriously, I feel like if an alien race ever attacks, we should present Hugh Jackman as proof of what humans can be, and then I’m sure the aliens would be like “oh, good point, you guys have potential. Okay guys, back to the home planet.”

-Also in the running for best person ever is George Clooney, who is the only person who has ever called to mind both a beautiful Roman statue and a sexy young Santa Claus at the same time.

-And speaking of impressive hair, how about all the long blond-haired guys winning? It must have been a party in Lothlorien last night, is all I’m sayin’.

-Okay, if I don’t end now, I’ll go on forever. So until I remember the big huge thing I forgot to say tomorrow, I’ll say au revoir until next year!