Author: Chris Van Patten

The Theatre Aficionado Goes to Church

The Broadway community lost one of its greatest assets in 1989 with the closing of the Mark Hellinger Theatre. The Nederlanders, who owned the building, leased it to the Times Square Church for liturgical uses and eventually sold the building to the Church for $17,000,000 in 1994. Every time I pass 51st and Broadway, I look at the facade and there is a little part of me that looks on with a sense of mourning as it once housed some of the best and some of the worst of Broadway. Its history is one for the ages.

The theatre (originally the Hollywood Theatre), designed by architect Thomas W. Lamb, was built in 1930 by Warner Bros to serve as their premiere movie house in New York City (and the first to be designed specifically for the talking picture). So for the first several years of its existence, it was a cinema palace (whose original entrance was on Broadway; the 51st Street entrance and lobby was the secondary) then becoming a legitimate playhouse, before becoming a movie house again. Little sidenote to film fans (eg Esther): the world premiere of Casablanca occurred at this theatre in December 1942, prior to its LA release, which explains why a 1942 film is a 1943 Oscar winning Best Picture).

In 1949, the theatre was officially established as a Broadway house under the name Mark Hellinger (for the recently deceased critic and producer) with the musical All for Love. The venue is probably most famous for having housed the original production of My Fair Lady in 1956. However, there were many other productions: Two on the Aisle, Plain and Fancy, On a Clear Day You Can See Forever, Illya Darling, Dear World, Coco, Jesus Christ Superstar, Seesaw, 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, the acclaimed Houston Grand Opera revival of Porgy and Bess in 1976, and Sugar Babies, the last commercial success to appear at the theatre. There wasn’t a singular success during the 80s, with shows such as A Doll’s Life, Merlin, the flop revival of Oliver! with Patti LuPone, Grind and Rags.

I was in NYC for brunch with a lot of the regulars: Sarah, Kari, Roxie, Esther, Jimmy Moon and Sarah’s friend Joe. When the uptowners ventured home via the 10, the foursome that was left: Roxie, Jimmy and Esther (both of whom had matinee tickets) and myself headed South. I was insistent to Roxie that we were to make a pilgrimage of sorts to the Times Square Church. Several months earlier I stopped in briefly on my way through town, however, there was a service going on and I was only able to get a brief glimpse into the lobby.

Much to my dismay, we found the doors locked. However, a person who appeared to be a worker there (they had just gone through an extensive renovation of the theatre and the marquee – the theatre is considered a landmark and its original integrity must be maintained), let us in and instructed us to go down the aisle to the front of house and just look up.

As I walked in down the aisle, there was this warmth that filled me as I stepped from out from under the overhang of the mezzanine. It was almost as if the opulent interior and the ghosts of all the performances that occurred at the theatre (Bert Lahr! Julie Andrews and Rex Harrison! Barbara Harris and John Cullum! Melina Mercouri! Angela Lansbury as Countess Aurelia! Katharine Hepburn! Patricia Routledge’s “Duet for One”!) The utter glory of the Mark Hellinger just threw us all for a loop. For several minutes, we just stood staring up at the ceiling, with its chandelier emblazing the pristine ceiling paintings. I took a glance around at my friends, whose jaws had succumbed to the forces of gravity (all the while realizing mine had as well). Stepping into the lobby was a similar experience. Grand, ornate, circular with draperies and such detail in the design, we were just as equally floored, with Esther and myself stepping over to read the plaque placed in the lobby in 1949 upon the dedication of the theatre to Mark Hellinger (written by his friend Walter Winchell).

Reflecting on this later in the Drama Bookstore, Roxie and I discussed how we both separately imagined first night crowds walking through the lobbies, with tuxedoes and evening gowns (ties, tails and fur coats, et al). Stepping inside takes you back to an era when going to the theatre was as glamorous every night as it was on opening night.

If there is one thing to lament in all of this, it’s only that the space is unlikely to ever become a theatre again. It was rumored that when the Nederlanders were looking to unload, they rejected an offer from Cameron Mackintosh to buy the property outright, instead selling it to the Times Square Church (which originated with services at Town Hall, and later leased the Hellinger when Legs Diamond closed in 1989). No offense to the ladies and gentlemen of the church, but I would prefer the space reverted back as a legitimate playhouse. Perhaps give the place a new name, such as the Hammerstein Theatre; with its 1500+ seats, it would be ideal for many a musical.

If you’re ever walking up around 51st and Broadway and have a few moments to spare, stop in and take a look at a piece of theatre history. Anything I’ve written here can’t even remotely begin to do the experience justice.

(Note: the photo above shows Alan Jay Lerner and Frederick Loewe in the lobby of the Hellinger in December 1956, as photographed for Life magazine by Gordon Parks).

Judi Dench – "Don’t Tell Mama"

When people think of Cabaret they don’t necessarily think of Dame Judi Dench. One might be more inclined to think Liza Minnelli, or perhaps Natasha Richardson. But Judi originated the part of Sally Bowles in the original London production in 1968. (And in my humble opinion, gives the definitive rendition of the title song on the cast album).

Here she is with the original company, I am not sure if this was taken live in performance, on a television special or an awards show, but here is “Don’t Tell Mama.” With that black wig, does anyone else think she looks a little like Vivien Leigh? (The sound goes on a couple of occasions, but that shouldn’t hinder the viewing pleasure).

Special thanks to my friend Russ Dembin for finding this clip.

Gone, But Not Forgotten

It’s hard to believe it, but it was five years ago today that we lost the great Dorothy Loudon to lung cancer. I was never privileged to have seen Loudon perform onstage (her final performance was the first preview of Dinner at Eight at Lincoln Center less than a year prior to her death), but thank God for her cast albums, her Tony-winning legacy and in this instance, youtube, for keeping the memory of this extraordinary talent alive. I’ll never forget the following spring at the 2004 Theatre World Awards when Peter Filichia made a special mention of her toward the end of the ceremony bringing about a full house standing ovation in her memory.

Here is her performance of “Fifty Percent,” the eleven o’clock number from Ballroom, from the 1979 Tony awards telecast.

Quote of the Day

Peter Filichia in his 11/12/08 column:

Funny; on Tuesday, I wrote a negative review of High School Musical at the Paper Mill Playhouse in Millburn, New Jersey, and three readers contacted me to complain. “Don’t you see that such a show is getting kids to go to the theater?” they asked. Yes, but at what cost? Is it really worth it to give kids inferior material just to get them into a playhouse? All that seems to be happening is that we’re getting more and more lousy work aimed at indiscriminating kids.

11/11/08

This was an editorial cartoon in today’s issue of the NY Daily News by Bill Bramhall. I think it sums up what everyone of us feels this Veteran’s Day. Have you thanked a veteran yet today?

"Where I went one day…"

I’m not sure what it was about the revival of South Pacific that got my father interested in the notion of going to see it. I think part of it stemmed from my overwhelming and enthusiastic response to the show after I saw it on opening night last April. That was the first time that I noticed he was genuinely listening to what I had to say about the show I’d seen. My parents just know I go and see shows and that it’s my thing. My mother enjoys a good show, but is rather wary of venturing down to NYC. The incongruity here lies in her completely unfazed attitude at flying around the country on exotic vacations at the drop of a hat. (There was less drama about her flying out to the Philippines for the birth of her grandson than driving down to Manhattan last Tuesday evening). Neither had ever seen a Broadway show. Until now.

My father’s favorite movie is The Sound of Music. One of his other favorites is the 1958 adaptation of South Pacific. So much so that he and I on our various travels have visited both Salzburg and Kauai, HI, taking in the filming locations. So whenever a place with which he is familiar is mentioned, he always interjects subtly under his breath “Where I went one day.” (Case in point: he once listened to the Ricky Nelson classic “Travelin’ Man” realizing he’d been to every single place listed in the song). My brothers will attest, if we had a $1 for every time he said “Where I went one day, ” we’d be considerably well off… Anyway I digress…

Back in August, the subject was brought up again after my father came home from a golf trip and mentioned that his friend had talked about wanting to see it, but not being able to get tickets until March. Then it became something he wanted to do, so I set to work getting tickets. Anyone who has tried to purchase tickets for this revival knows that it is one of the hottest tickets in town (huzzah for LCT!) and you have to really scope out the tickets. For my parents, where we sat wasn’t an issue, as long as we got there.

For years as a child, I had always asked for tickets to see shows in NY and everytime I was given a gentle dismissal, as if to say “I know, but that’s not going to happen.” So I gave up on my family as theatre-going companions. They understood that this was something I enjoyed doing, but aside from obligatory viewings of myself in educational theatre expositions in high school and college, they were mostly homebodies. So my excitement levels were already amped up for this, since they would be on my turf, following my lead and this was really also a testing area to see if this is something they will do on a continual basis.

This was all planned out in August. Then October came around and my family was knocked for a considerable loop. My father was diagnosed with prostate cancer. He had an idea of this back before South Pacific was even a discussion, but wasn’t 100% certain until his actual diagnosis. Barring my father’s need for privacy, he didn’t tell anyone that he was having a biopsy. But when it became clear that surgery was the option, he had to let us know. My first suspicions came when I heard two red flag alerts: “I don’t want radiation or seed implantation” and “I have tickets for South Pacific on the 4th, this won’t interfere with that, will it?”

Thankfully everything is fine. His diagnosis was made in stage I, meaning he was cancer free as of his surgery; however, I was a little concerned as his surgery was twelve days before the show! If anyone reading has ever met my father, they know he’s a hard-working, quiet, engaging person. He was in the Marines and worked as a paid firefighter for 36 years in Scarsdale, NY. He is also incredibly stubborn. He had surgery on a Thursday and was home from the hospital on Sunday. Monday was a comic sight as my mother was yelling at him to take it easy as he insisted on working around the house. However, given the minimally invasive nature of the procedure these days, recovery time is much less than it was even five years ago. (Everything is done with robotics; with pinpoint accuracy not even afforded the naked eye and hands).

Anyway, Tuesday rolled around and there were no worries. As I said in my post from that day, we did our civic duty and voted. Around 3:30 in the afternoon we got in the car and drove down to the city. My parents had never been to the Lincoln Center area, but we got there easy enough. In an amusing case of “small world,” a gentleman approached the ticket booth in the garage and nodded a hello to us. After a moment, he turned to my mother (who at 4’9″ and a rather jovial high decibel Scottish brogue is a rather memorable character) and told her “I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before.” Lost she shrugged and we exchanged the usual pleasantries. As soon as she spoke, it clicked in for him. “If I’m not mistaken, you live around Peekskill, correct?” Well, we were clearly making a connection here. Turns out he was Jehovah’s Witness that had come to prostelyze his at our door several months prior. My mother, a devout Catholic, adamantly tells them immediately that she has no interest in converting but will never be rude enough to not answer the door and will usually engage the ladies and gentlemen in a brief conversation. Turns out my mother kept him around for the Cliff Notes version of the family history as he turned to me and asked “Is this the archaeologist?” (My brother). The amount of information he recalled from the conversation was either incredibly remarkable or incredibly creepy, possibly a little bit of both. My mother, with a cosi fan tutti shrug, just turned to us and said “I just can’t get away wherever I go.”

We emerged at Lincoln Center through the Met. They are undergoing some intense renovations at the moment, so it’s a little easy to get lost. We exited into the main plaza where they took in the beauty of that area (and were impressed with the set-up regardless of the all the paneling and detours). Dinner was at O’Neals, where I looked on with a smile as they couldn’t get over the grand treatment that was given them at the restaurant (they really treat the customers spectacularly there). We ate early as to avoid the rush and to give us ample time to relax and digest leading to the performance. Originally we were going to walk around a few of the blocks as they wanted to scope out the surrounding area, but poor weather prevailed. We instead headed over to the Vivian Beaumont and waited for the house to open.

A lot of this time I entertained questions from them about this particular house and about Broadway etiquette in general. They were fascinated by the presence of a bar and the concession stand, with both charming the hell out of the girl behind the counter. (My mother could make friends with the enemy during battle, she’s got that gift; my father can be one hell of an innocent charmer when he wants to be).

The show was resplendent; even more nuanced and affecting than the first time I saw it. Kelli O’Hara is giving one of the most dynamic, three dimensional performances in NY; she’s just continued to grow since opening night. It is easily one of the most naturalistic performances I have ever seen in a musical. William Michals was on for Paulo Szot, which led me to quip “Paulo who?” Michals, a little older and perhaps not as physically imposing as Szot, acts the role with sincerity and can sing the hell out of the score. Not only sing it, but act it as well. His was one of the most impressive understudy performances I’ve ever witnessed. Matt Morrison is back after a month hiatus and is sounding more legit than ever. Danny Burstein is still giving Luther Billis the Bert Lahr treatment. And Loretta Ables-Sayre is still as impressive as ever.

I have to admit I was a little on edge during the performance, not so much because of my enjoyment of it, which was incredible, but moreso because I was curious/nervous as to how my parents were reacting. I realized that I hadn’t been in an audience with my parents since my dad took us to a George Jones concert in the now-defunct Opryland for his birthday back in 1994, so I had basically nothing to go on in gauging their reactions. It’s very interesting though, that their body language could help pinpoint it for me. My father has the best poker face you’d ever see. When I saw him crack a smile during the first Billis-Bloody Mary exchange, I knew he was enjoying it. My mother, on the other hand, is very exuberant in her reactions; she practically fell out of her chair cheering on Loretta Ables-Sayre at the curtain call and couldn’t stop talking about how much she enjoyed her performance on the ride home.

It was amusing to be the one conducting their evening. They purchased the souvenir program and a magnet to bring home. He briefly considered a t-shirt until he heard the prices. (Frankly, I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t plop down the money for a glorified Hanes myself). While my mother talked on about what she enjoyed (which was basically the entire show; I heard nary a complaint the entire time), my father drove on with a very calm, peaceful and satisfied look on his face. Another tell-tale sign he was enjoying himself, he was cracking quiet jokes to me before, during and after the show. (It was not nearly as bad as it may sound, in fact both were ideal audience members – my mother even unwrapped all her lozenges beforehand after reading the notice in the playbill – but for what it’s worth, be wary if you sit next to him at Mass, it’ll be a struggle to maintain your composure).

Given their immense enjoyment of South Pacific, can I get them to see anything else? I’m not sure. My father is generally content to be a homebody – and venturing into NYC for an evening at the theatre isn’t something I can expect him to do on a regular basis. Perhaps if Julie Andrews might appear in something (ohhh, does he love her…) or if The Sound of Music were to come back in another revival, maybe he’d consider it. My mother would probably be up to more trips to the city to see things, as she has seen many of the classic musicals in their film adaptations. (I’m going to work on a friend of hers to go see Gypsy. She’s enjoyed the movie, but hasn’t experienced the real thing).

It’s interesting to open up your world to people for the first time. To see people enter a Broadway house for the first time, take in their surroundings and audience neighbors (The twosome hit it up nicely: Mom with the woman from Ohio on her left; Dad with the woman to his right), I have to say (and this seems a little weird, but oh well) I was incredibly proud to have witnessed this milestone. To have them see how transportative the Broadway experience can be, especially with one of the first-class productions in NYC, well who could ask for anything more?

And now when someone mentions Broadway to my father, he can now say “Where I went one day…”

A Call From the Vatican

Okay, so I’m on a bit of a Nine kick this evening. I’ve got the 2003 revival cast album on because I haven’t listened to it in a couple years and have been talking up the show with a few friends. My google expertise brought me to this clip of the great Anita Morris performing ‘A Call from the Vatican,’ one of the sexier numbers to ever be featured in a Broadway musical. She is calling her lover Guido Contini, who is unfortunately seated next to his wife, and sexy hilarity ensues. Morris started out as a mime, but segued into a sturdy Broadway career that culminated in her appearance in Nine. She was featured in the original NY casts of Jesus Christ Superstar, Seesaw, and The Magic Show as Charmin. She also was a replacement in the burlesque Sugar Babies and took over the role of Miss Mona in The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas.

With her red hair, voluptuous body and full, red lips, she became a Broadway sex symbol. CBS banned her showstopping number “A Call from the Vatican” from the Tony telecast as they felt her costume, a sheer but strategically designed lace body stocking, was too risque for television. (William Ivey Long designed the costumes and won his first Tony for them). Instead, they presented Kathi Moss and the (fully-clothed) ladies of the ensemble in “Be Italian.” In a brilliant marketing move, the producers of Nine made a TV ad with Morris (in her costume) seducing people to come see what CBS wouldn’t let them see on television.

Though it is easy to remember her performance merely for her sexualized, flirtatious turn in the first act, she also broke the audience’s heart in “Simple” in the second act after she faces a rather brutal rejection from Contini. (She was nominated for a featured actress Tony, but the award went to co-star Liliane Montevecchi). Morris’ departure from Broadway led to a few roles in film (Ruthless People) and on numerous television shows (I seem to recall her coyly flirting with Andy Griffith on Matlock). Sadly, she passed away in 1994, a few days shy of her 51st birthday from ovarian cancer, which she had fought privately off and on for almost fifteen years. She is survived by her widower, Broadway dancer/choreographer/director Grover Dale and their son, actor James Badge Dale.

Here is a performance of “A Call from the Vatican” taken from the 46th Street Theatre. Forgive the video/audio quality, but it’s a glimpse into one of the most unique performances of a Broadway song I’ve ever seen. Immediately following is the video of her commercial. Enjoy…

Okay so this gets me excited…

There is almost too much sexy in this picture for me to handle. Principal filming on the upcoming film adaptation of Maury Yeston’s Nine is underway. Rob Marshall who made an impressive motion picture debut with the 2002 Best Picture winner Chicago is directing a cast including Oscar winners Daniel Day-Lewis, Judi Dench, Marion Cotillard, Sophia Loren, Nicole Kidman; Oscar nominees Penelope Cruz and Kate Hudson. Oh, and Fergie.

I wasn’t sure what I thought about a film adaptation of Nine, as it is an rather abstract concept musical that takes place in the mind of Guido Contini, a film director facing a mid-life crisis, an inspirational nadir and divorce from his frustrated wife. Through the course of the show he interacts with all the women of his life, both past and present, including his wife, mistress, muse, mother, a prostitute from his childhood, his French film producer, among others. In a brilliant move, Contini is the only major male role in the musical (a flashback to the encounter with Saraghina, the prostitute, incorporates 1-3 young boys) and the great deal of the show allows diva after diva to have a turn.
Producer Liliane LaFleur has “Folies Bergere,” Mistress Carla sings “A Call from the Vatican,” Muse Claudia gets to sing the haunting ballad “Unusual Way” and Mrs. Luisa Contini sings the devastating “My Husband Makes Movies” and “Be on Your Own.” The score is, for my money, the strongest Yeston has ever written. The “Overture delle Donne” is sung through by the ladies of the cast and the entire ensemble pulls out all the stops in the second act mini opera “The Grand Canal,” an elaborate fifteen minute piece detailing his idea for a film about Casanova, based on elements from his own life.

Seeing this picture, however, I am more than excited to see how this turns out. Thoughts?