"I had a dream, a wonderful dream"

I hesitated to write anything at all about Gypsy. Everybody's already covered it, and said all the things that I would say, only better articulated and more concise. But then I thought, no, I have to write about it, because it was the show that made me fall in love with Broadway musicals, and it really did change my life in a more dramatic way than most big events of my life so far.

My parents saw the Tyne Daly revival in the 80s, and brought me back the cassette tape to listen to. I fixated on it the way 6-year-olds are apt to do - Mama Rose was my Dora the Explorer, and I memorized every word of that recording, strutting across our front porch, belting out, "Some people sit on their butts! Got the nerve, yeah, but not the guts!" Listening to that dazzling overture, choreographing "All I Need is the Girl" in my living room, and performing Rose's Turn for an audience of teddy bears ignited a flame somewhere inside me, and twenty years later when the orchestra at City Center played that opening "I had a dream" melody that begins the overture, that flame was burning brighter than ever. Until then, I had still never seen the musical onstage.

Brantley described Patti Lupone's Rose as "the sort of pushy but likable woman you might compete with at the supermarket for that last perfect sole fillet. (You’d lose, but you wouldn’t hate her.)" He's right - Patti is earthy, funny, and likable even as she's shoving her kids onstage and stealing the silverware from dingy chinese restaurants. But contrary to what Ben says, her likablilty is not the downfall of the performance, or the production. It has the opposite effect - Rose is so darn likeable, in spite of her craziness, that we can't fault the few people who stick with her through her stubborn, relentless pursuit of her "dreams".

In fact, Rose's warmth and caring gives Herbie and Louise a real reason to stick around, rather than just ditching her when they have the chance. This gives Herbie and Louise credibility, when it seems like they often come across as weak, spineless people who can't work up the nerve to ditch Rose. Herbie and Louise are sensitive, delicate souls, and any such person would have a really hard time telling Rose, "thanks a lot, and out with the garbage." All the acclaim for Boyd Gaines and Laura Benanti wouldn't be half as strong if Patti's Rose didn't give them so much room to be real, credible characters. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why Brantley's review sucks, in case you didn't know.


There are millions of little moments that I'll spare you from my raving about. Here's just one: An insider told me that Arthur Laurents had Patti improvise little bits of choreography during the sweet "Together" number, doing it differently every time. It played really well - Gaines and Benanti looked like they were having a blast keeping up with LuPone's zany steps, and it was a simple way of articulating how Herbie and Louise are constantly struggling to keep up with Rose. P.S. - Check out this sweet interview with Boyd Gaines from Broadwayworld.

So that's my Gypsy religious experience. It was like The Big Voice - seeing the spinning lights and hearing "Sing out, Louise!" was more of a spiritual communion than I've ever had in a church, for sure. I was hoping that it would transfer for a nice Broadway run, but now I just want the whole thing to burn bright and untouched in my memory, just the way it was that night.

Review: The Big Voice: God or Merman?

If you haven't already seen it, don't miss The Big Voice: God or Merman? It's the story of how two men made their way in the world, finding music, laughter, the theater, and each other. The show is their love letter to the theater and to each other, and it's one of the most moving, heartfelt, and fun evenings I've had in a long time.

The Big Voice is the story of Jim Brochu and Steve Schalchlin's lives - growing up in severely religious families, discovering freedom through music and the dazzling lights of Broadway, and finally finding and holding on to each other. Jim wanted to be pope (the lights! the spectacle! the crowds!) until he heard a recording of Ethel Merman singing "There's No Business Like Show Business," and recognized his true calling. Steve "got saved" as a Baptist when he was only a little kid, but realized that his inspiration was through writing music, not through the church. The Big Voice in the sky to which all must heed the call, it turned out, was not an old bearded man in the sky, but Ethel Merman (or Judy Garland, if you're in the other camp).

The show is humbly staged at the Actors' Temple Theater, a converted religious space, which is all too fitting for a show that illuminates the true connection between religion and theater. Jim and Steve aren't undiscovered dynamos of musical theater, but their performances are humble, sweet, funny, honest, and utterly from the heart. Their stories are the kind that you wish your grandparents could tell you - stories of running into a candystriping Ethel Merman in a hospital, getting inspiration in tough times from the guy who played Potsie, and Jim finally seeing his portrait on the wall at Sardi's.

Word on the street is that casting is underway for Jim and Steve's replacements. I strongly advise you to see it performed by the guys who have lived these stories, before it's too late. Oh, and check out Steve's blog here!