theaterboy®

Not Is the New Blog

Short and sweet: This is goodbye. At least for a while.

Longer, but still not bitter:

I'm a little burned out.  And so are many of you, I'm guessing, at least if the general reluctance to post in the comments here is any indication.

I'm burned out on blogging in general.  (I don't read most of the blogs I used to; apparently a day job will do that to you.)

I'm burned out on blogging about y'all in particular. (Not that you're not intensely interesting.)

I'm even a tiny bit burned out on theater -- or at least burned out on thinking about it 24/7 -- so I'm going to focus the energy and enthusiasm I do have on the reviews.  As long as the City Paper keeps printing them, anyway.

This may turn out to be only a hiatus -- who knows?  If you're really curious, sign up for the e-mail version. That way you'll get anything I post in the future, without having to remember to check back here.

In the short run, if you're desperately in need of a Theaterboy fix, you can join him for a panel discussion he'll be moderating on May 23rd. It's about Hamlet, god help us, but the Shakespeare Theatre's Michael Kahn and Synetic's Paata Tsikurishvili and Studio's Joy Zinoman are supposed to be participating, so maybe it won't be a complete snooze. I think it's gonna be at the Portrait Gallery, though that may still be in flux.

Meanwhile: Thanks, all of you.  It's been fun. Fun when you got engaged, fun when you got enraged, fun when you confessed in the lobby of the Zinoplex how much you enjoyed Theaterboy and his less-than-reverent approach to Washington theater.

I've been proud of Theaterboy, mischief or no: I was proud when thousands of people from all across the U.S. clicked through from Jim Romenesko's Poynter.org blog to read about L'Affaire Olszewski, and proud when Tboy was the first to confirm first-hand that the Source was in danger of becoming a pool hall. I was proud when I was able to get Wendy Goldberg on the phone on a weekend to talk about the O'Neill scandal that wasn't, quite, and proud when Dramatists Guild president John Weidman called Tboy back in a hurry to parse his evolving reaction to the changing story of Hedy Weiss and that Chicago new-works showcase.

But I was never prouder than when one actor who'd been out of circulation for a while (and who drew a nice notice in the Washington Post when he returned to the D.C. stage recently) wrote that Theaterboy and the fun we've had here was one small part of why he decided to get back in the game. Because behind the snark, behind the teasing, Theaterboy has always been about loving theater -- and I'm guessing that came through for the actor in question.

So again, to all of you, thanks: Thanks for participating, for disagreeing, for ranting and rallying and remembering.

On that note, it seems to me appropriate to sign off by drawing your attention to a message Melinda Whiteman left in the comments this past Friday.  I'm moved, and honored, that she'd come back here to share what she's feeling now, and I wouldn't want those feelings to go unremarked:

Dear Friends and Thespians,

It's been a little over a year since my husband, Bart Whiteman, passed on. Passed on is an ambiguous expression, isn't it? I will say that most days, I feel Bart is so much a part of my life. The days go by, during what has been a most difficult year, and like cream rising to the top, my feelings and memory of Bart are like gold. I loved him very much, for a very long time. I miss him. I miss his humour, his advice, his intelligence...hard to find these days, and his heart.

I miss our mutual love of theatre. In fact, I have many boxes of Source works that one your might be interested in archiving for The Source. Please let me know. You can reach me at: mindiwhiteman@aol.com

I truly hope The Source is well and strong in its continued innovations, reincarnations, and dedication to quality theatre in Washington, D.C. I wish all well. The excitement of theater and it's importance as a tool for understanding and expression should never be underestimated.

Sometimes, driving in my car, I'll be thinking of Bart, and feeling that he is not here with me; he is at the Source, with a notebook & pencil. In my mind, Bart was a beautiful man; he worked harder than most. Arrogant and stubborn, with a heart of gold, a keen intellect, and great giver to anyone in need. Enigmatic, complex, loving. Funny.

Thank you to theatreboy, for letting me check in once in a while with my thoughts...I really miss Bart.

Melinda Whiteman

Peter Marks does a drive-by ...

... at the tail end of his Meet John Doe review, which Tboy is reading at a coffeeshop near his folks' cabin in Rutherfordton, N.C. (It's pronounced Ruffton, because we're lazy down here. And yes, Tboy is still on vacation, so don't expect much more this week.)

Still: Tboy couldn't help but giggle at this graf:

Ford's, too, deserves applause for taking a chance on this material. Some other major companies in town seem content these days to feast on well-cooked chestnuts.

Goodness. Wonder which "major company" Peter could have in mind?

Wooo-ho ... nah, nevermind.

Marvin Hamlisch will salute you all at the Helen Hayes to-do.

Wait a minute while Tboy contains himself.

P.S. - Tboy finds it amusing that Derek Jacobi is a footnote in a Marvin Hamlisch press release. That is all.

Tboy has decided to be nice today.

Which is why he's not going to name names.

But he is going to giggle, just the tiniest bit, about how cute it was to see two notable D.C.-based actor-types standing outside the National Theatre stage door last night, jittery as schoolkids, waiting nervously for Cherry Jones to come out so they could tell her how much they love her.

Tboy, as you may recall, has a little Cherry Jones crush, too, so let's make it clear he's not actually sneering here. He's just poking a little fun.

And in celebration of crushes in general, and Cherry Jones in particular, he offers this, the first segment of what would appear to be a nice, long, terribly written TV melodrama with Jones and Brooke Shields as a Florida couple whose child becomes the focus of a legal battle after Jones dies and Shields forgets how to act.

Bonus: Anne Meara plays Jones' mommy ...

Theater J's got a blog.

Ari Roth admits, in his first post, to being under-prepared for his interview with Shylock author Arnold Wesker -- and to being a "reluctant joiner" on the Shakespeare in Washington bandwagon.

More here.

(And perhaps more in a minute. Tboy saw the unedited draft of that post, and he's pondering whether he ought to comment on what got excised by the, um, dramaturgs.)

Tboy was awakened on Saturday ...

... by the euphonious voice of Rick Foucheux, murmuring reflectively into Tboy's ear.

No, not like that. You're terrible, Muriel.

Like this. One minute it was Scott Simon, introducing a piece about Tennessee Williams' journals; the next it was Foucheux, reading the journals.  And in a reasonably good Southern accent, too.

We like this. It's one of the beautiful things about having NPR here in D.C.

While Tboy's on the subject: He's excessively pleased to be able to tell you that he'll be starting a new gig at NPR on April 2.  He'll be producing arts-focused packages -- much like this one -- for NPR.org.

Looky there: Tboy's got a day job again. (First time since 2001, pretty much.) And he couldn't be happier about it. Full-time freelancing is lovely on the flexibility front, but it turns out to suck when it comes to things like money.

Everybody sing ...

Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you ...

Donna Mig's blog is having a party.

The Week in Review(s)

The WashPo's indefatigable Nelson Pressley was a busy one this week:

• he turned a jaundiced eye upon the gender-bent Owl and the Pussycat  at Actors' Theatre of Washington ("Double the Men, Half the Fun," said the suitably bitchy headline)


• he weighed in on Robert O'Hara's "impossible" Insurrection: Holding History ("a true dialectical smashup")


• he even wrote the I-can't-believe-I'm-reviewing-this review of Cats, whose chorus-kitties "perform as if it really means something, bless their hearts."

Meow.

Speaking of smashups: Tboy is afraid he saw Owl, too. He never imagined he'd think longingly of Barbra Streisand's comic flair.

Tboy was happier with Insurrection, not minding that the mashup doesn't exactly add up. (In fact, Tboy is OK with the idea that the mashup is itself the point, if that's in fact what O'Hara intended. Even though it's probably not.)

More important, the cast was daaaaazzzzzzling--total shoo-in for that new Ensemble category at next year's Helens.

And since we seem to be hung-up on mashups this week: Tboy also got out to Gunston to see Steven Mazzola's '20s-distaff collage, Drama Under the Influence. It's smart & subtle (second item), if a little uneven now and then.

As for Kiss Me, Kate, which was possibly the slowest-moving evening of musical theater Tboy has ever, ever attended: Ouch. The City Paper's Glen Weldon was kind(ish), saying the Savoyards are "serving it up like the theatrical comfort food it's always been: thick n' cheesy, but pretty satisfying."

Not so the WashPo: The cast "bedim[s] the stage with a fog of amateurishness," sniffed Celia Wren. She liked lead actor Michael Nansel (Tboy thought he sang dreamily and acted like, well, a singer), and said Rosie Sowa "sashays with sex-kitten flair through 'Always True to You in My Fashion'," but otherwise -- feh.

The big flashy opening last week was David Muse's staging of Frankie & Johnny in the Clair de Lune at Arena Stage.

Tboy kinda wished the final moments had more of the ambivalence that haunts the middle of the play -- he's not sure there's really any future for that relationship, but Muse seems to hope otherwise.

Probably Terrence McNally does, too -- which is probably one reason Tboy doesn't usually buy his plays.

Anyway, Peter Marks loved it in the WashPo, while the City Paper's Bob Mondello was more measured (second item). He did think the leads were pretty terrific.

Bob leads off with Shaw's Shorts, the Stage Guild omnibus (what's with the short-play evenings suddenly?), and darn if he doesn't sound cranky at first: "The old windbag is back."

But while he is in fact a little cranky about one of the playlets ("staged and acted with a broadness than sometimes verges on slapstick, [The Man of Destiny] quickly wears out its welcome"), he ends up thinking it's rather a nice evening: The Stage Guild "is comfortably in its element ... with John MacDonald’s staging getting things sparklingly right."

Celia seconds that emotion in the WashPo, calling it "a buoyant, intellectually stimulating showcase ... cannily directed ... a diverting, surprisingly topical production."

Topical? Naturally: As usual (and as both critics point out) Shaw has a few broadsides to launch at jingoism and such.

P.S. -- Peter did in fact get to the Hamlet. It's often about "self-conscious moments that are more theatrical than illuminating," though ultimately it's "a fun evening, if one that is not especially affecting." Not much, sez the oracle, "in the way of fresh observation."

Photo credits: Jeffrey Johnson, top, by Ray Gniewek, courtesy Actors' Theatre of Washington; Insurrection cast, middle right, by Colin Hovde, courtesy Theater Alliance; Kate Buddeke and Vito D'Ambrosio by Scott Suchman, courtesy Arena Stage.

About that Hamlet

From Lisa Traiger:

"I don't normally do this but:

"If you can finagle tickets to the Hebrew Hamlet at Signature, it is mind-blowingly good, even with the subtitles. Peter Marks was there on Wednesday so expect a review on Friday, I think. [Ed.: Indeed. It's in today.] The acting, incredible, particularly Itay Tiran as Hamlet. The production, muscular and vivid, impeccably directed by Omri Nitzan. The cast, top notch. The audience sits in swivel chairs turning to follow the actors and subtitles as the action churns around you. The Hebrew, a combination of modern day vernacular and biblical and Talmudic language is well-delivered if there are any Hebrew speakers out there. The Cameri Theater of Tel Aviv shows us how compelling Shakespeare can be in the 21st century in a modern dress production that feels very real and vital, down to the boom box Ophelia carries and the Uzis Rosencrantz and Guildenstern sport."

Death by Theater

And the death-march begins again ...