Gossip Central

Christian Boltanski's No Man's Land at the Armory

Is that my pink frilly frock dangling above a mountain of tired clothes by the paw of a crane? Look at it drop to join the tons of garments below, not quite far enough away to avoid the next random fistful. Maybe that's not my old party dress, but it could be. I am drawn to its fate, anyway, to the fact that eventually it will be out of reach, buried by the next drop. Obsessed with questions of identity, memory, and loss, Christian Boltanski created this huge installation now displayed in the 55,000 square foot drill hall of the Park Avenue Armory, having originated at the Grand Palais in Paris, inspired by one of those contraptions in an amusement park, where you try your best to pick up a teddy bear with a metal arm. Of course you never can, said Boltanski playfully the other day, looking a lot like Hitchcock. But this exhibition is dead serious: coats and outer clothing are meticulously arranged on the ground, in sections, with disturbing harsh lights thrown on them like a police lineup, an interrogation of the inanimate. And the noise, heartbeats, throbbing, in cacophony. I say, when I see a mass of anything I think of Auschwitz, of human hair, shoes, suitcases, and the iconic pile of bones.

He replies, “All my art is after the Holocaust. Yes it is about that and much more.” A woman offers, she sees the detritus after a plane crash. Walking around the space, you are pulled into history's large questions about man's place, the human condition, the value of life, and the power of pondering all that. But the making of art is far more practical. The tons of clothes were acquired from a place in New Jersey, solving a problem closer to what to do with the enormous excess of clothing now that it can all be purchased so cheaply.

Regina Weinreich

Graphic Design: Salpeter Ventura

Soul Man Sam Moore at the Highline Ballroom

In town for an AFTRA Lifetime Achievement Award, the legendary Sam Moore performed at the Highline Ballroom on Sunday night. The consummate showman began his set from a booth in the back, teasing the crowd with “Hold on, I'm Coming,” till the boyish 74 year old made his way to the stage.

A perfect concert followed, featuring a first-rate band, backup singers including a rocking Chrissy Poland, and his trademark tunes, “Knock on Wood,” “What I Want,” “I Can't Stand the Rain,” and “Blame it on the Rain,” until he sang “When Something is Wrong With My Baby” and someone shouted out: “Not here tonight.”

And then the unexpected: Sam called Ryan Shaw to the stage. Shaw had performed an opening set, remarking that he was honored that The Sam Moore even knew who he was. The music child of Ashford and Simpson, who just happened to be listening in, as was Steve Van Zandt, Shaw then performed with Moore and Valerie Simpson. “Soul Man,” “Dance to the Music.” The music from Shaft paid homage to Isaac Hayes and then Moore, Shaw and Simpson performed “You are so Beautiful” in tribute to Billy Preston. The show ended with Sam's “A Rainy Night in Georgia.”

As you congratulate Sam Moore on a great show and the award he so well deserves, he comes back, serious: “how about those fish 'n' chips you were munching on? I didn't get any.” I went home and played his CD, Overnight Sensation. I just didn't want the music to end.

Regina Weinreich

Graphic Design: Salpeter Ventura

Memphis/ Maye

The anticipation for Memphis, a new musical with an original book, was palpable. As far as Broadway musicals go, it's been a long season of revivals. But, despite its entertaining, energetic appeal, Memphis sounds like something you've heard before. Take a bit of Hairspray (crossing the race divide in music) and sprinkle with Dreamgirls (black showgirl on the rise) and you get the genre. The music by Bon Jovi's David Bryan and Joe DiPietro evokes period rock, blues and gospel, managing to miss the real Memphis, especially its sound in the '50's, aching with themes of interracial romance and cultural change. Martin Luther King Jr. died in Memphis. Memphis was Stax Records' home. Failing to utilize the unique Memphis sound is a big mistake, a failed opportunity that makes you wonder why the talents who put together this show chose this historically rich city at all. Still, Chad Kimball winningly plays Huey Calhoun, a white boy who stumbles into a Beale Street black saloon one night lured by the sound. There he meets the love of his life, a fired up singer named Felicia (Montego Glover), her brother Delray (J. Bernard Calloway) who owns the joint, and a bartender Gator (Derrick Baskin), silent after seeing his father lynched. After following his passion for this music, transgressive for the time, Huey becomes the number one DJ at the radio station where he befriends James Monroe Iglehart as Bobby, a janitor whose dancing is especially good, defying his robust figure. Over all, Sergio Trujillo's choreography soars. Huey's mother (Cass Morgan) is not too keen on her son's fixation with the black subculture but by Act II, she's joined their church. On opening night, the legendary ducks from Memphis's Peabody Hotel were imported for publicity, providing a nod to that great American city. To know its authentic musical history, though, see D. A. Pennebaker's documentary, Only the Strong Survive: Rufus Thomas and his daughter Carla, now that's Memphis.

And, this past weekend Marilyn Maye wrapped up an eleven-night reprise of her homage to Johnny Mercer at the Metropolitan Room. Front row center in this intimate club sat her regulars, the guys who attended every performance for this sharp 81 year old whose energy seems as unstoppable as her voice. Scattered elsewhere were Frank Langella, Tyne Daly, Phyllis Newman and Michael Feinstein. If you want to talk about authentic saloon singing, it was right here

Regina Weinreich

Graphic Design: Salpeter Ventura

Meryl Romer is So Sure at Iridium

The photo on her debut CD “So Sure” shows Meryl Romer with a knowing, come hither look, deep cleavage, saying she’s got the goods. As a vocalist, she’s new but her sound rooted in jazz traditions makes you think, where has she been? But that is the story of her music. In three original songs, by writer/producer Casey Collins and composer Eric Moon, “I’ve Waited Long Enough,” “Right on Time,” and her signature “So Sure,” Romer recounts a personal saga that explains the right turn she took somewhere in her ripe ‘50’s to pursue the passion for music that was lurking within her since childhood. Covering Sinatra-famed standards like “Big Spender” or “Lady is a Tramp,” or Cassandra Wilson’s “Solomon Sang” and Toots Thielemans’ “Bluesette,” Romer suggests her jazzy influences. With “You’re a Big Boy Now” from Dylan’s “Blood on the Tracks,” she spills into rock with a new arrangement. Backed by a first-rate band: Erik Deutsch on piano, Bill Kopper on guitar, Jonti Siman on bass, Marc Dallo on drums and Mike McGuinness on tenor sax, Romer knows how to put on a great show. As the packed room at Iridium could hear last week, any time might have been “right on time,” and this time is more than good.

Regina Weinreich

Graphic Design: Salpeter Ventura

Marilyn Maye at the Metropolitan Room/ Dan Zanes at the Museum of Natural History

To call Marilyn Maye a saloon singer is like calling a Rolls Royce a car. This chanteuse, elegant at 81, likes her martinis straight up, and favors Johnny Mercer tunes made famous by Frank Sinatra like “Summer Wind,” and especially “Drinking Again,” and “One for my Baby and One More for the Road,” songs that speak to late night lonely whisperings to a bartender. Saloons, she informed the uninitiated, were called “upholstered sewers.” She's just completed a run at New York's Metropolitan Room, 9 sold out nights celebrating Mercer's centennial, “Mercer, the Maye Way,” with standards like “Too Marvelous for Words,” “You Must Have Been a Beautiful Baby,” “Jeepers Creepers,” “I'm Old Fashioned,” “That Old Black Magic,” “I Wanna Be Around,” “Goody Goody,” and more. A knowing crowd, including cabaret insiders like piano man Ray Cohen and crooner Steve Ross, stood and cheered after the generous hour plus set that also featured Tedd Firth at the piano, Tom Hubbard on bass, and Jim Eklof, her drummer for over forty years. Maye's East Coast tour ends on June 26 when she will perform in East Hampton at Guild Hall. Don't miss her show there, but if you do, don't despair. She promised to be back at the Metropolitan Room in October.

      

For Father's Day, the Museum of Natural History offered the hottest ticket in town: Disney Channel's Dan Zanes and Friends, an intimate concert for 300 under the belly of the whale. By the second song, gyrating tots gravitated toward the stage. Most were boogying along to signature tunes including “Strike the Bell” “Sloop John B,” “How Do You Do,” and “Fare Thee Well My Own True Love.” Zane who sports a groovy gray fro also offered a drinking song. He assured the grown ups, he checked with his mom and she gave him the thumbs up. Spotted among the dads was Matthew Broderick, his mutton chop sideburns, leftover from his starring role on Broadway, in “The Philanthropist.” Could Sarah Jessica be far behind?

Regina Weinreich

Graphic Design: Salpeter Ventura

Out & About: Too Much Memory, Rock of Ages, Judy Kreston

As a way of ringing out 2008, a politically fraught year that asked
Americans to consider what leadership is all about, see "Too Much
Memory" at the Fourth Street Theater. A modern "Antigone"—yes, that
Sophoclean Greek play—this retelling by Keith Reddin and Meg
Gibson—mixes up the old formula on a bare stage: a high spirited,
idealistic jean jacketed girl (Laura Heisler), her JAP (Valley Girl
meets ethnic princess) sister (Aria Alpert), devoted boyfriend who
just happens to be the king's son (Seth Numrich), the bone-headed,
pragmatic, cold-blooded Creon (Peter Jay Fernandez), and a
surprisingly emotionally resonant Euridice (Wendy vanden Heuvel). The
chorus (Martin Moran) tells us, "These evenings end badly. That's why
they call it tragedy." The fine ensemble work (which also includes
some eloquent speeches by guards following orders) and excellent
writing underscores the cautionary aspect of Antigone—if you don't
watch your rulers, this can happen to you—and makes this the best hour
and 15 minutes you are likely to spend this holiday.

 

The musical "Rock of Ages" at Second Stages is sheer fun. Even I who
have no particular fondness or nostalgia for the 'eighties had a good
time. The story is reminiscent of that classic Broadway crowd-pleaser,
"42nd Street," only this time a young girl in a huge coif and
miniscule jean skirt goes to Los Angeles to make it big. Think of the
Jefferson Starship hit: "We built this city!" There, she makes some
wrong turns that lead to a life of sleaze before taking the road to a
bourgeois happy ever after. What makes it work is the fine band and
excellent ensemble featuring the appealing Constantine Maroulis from
the 4th season of American Idol and Kelli Barrett.

   

And last week at the Metropolitan Room, after announcing she had
laryngitis, and in the spirit of "the show must go on," Judy Kreston
belted out classic tunes ("Pick Yourself Up," "Our Love is Here to
Stay," "Don't Rain on my Parade") as well as some new ones composed by
her husband David Lahm, accompanying on the piano. With Tim Fergueson
on bass and David Silliman on drums, the performance made you wonder,
what can she do when she's well? Fortunately, Judy and David will
return in the spring. Stay tuned!

Regina Weinreich

Graphic Design: Salpeter Ventura

American Buffalo / Magic at the Metropolitan Room

 
 
It would be luck, a happy coincidence. A mimi Mamet festival graces Broadway with ”American Buffalo” joining “Speed-the-Plow,” two tour de forces of language --with attitude. I have already told you about the “Plow” revival featuring Jeremy Piven, Raul Esparza and Elisabeth Moss., but now John Leguizamo, Cedric the Entertainer, and Haley Joel Osment (the Oscar nominated kid from “Sixth Sense” grown up-almost) fire up the Belasco in another Mamet ménage a trois. The mood is set even before the actors appear, when the announcer says, “the cast and David Mamet request that you shut off your fucking cell phones.” “Fucking” in a Mamet play is not simply fucking, but a significant signifier, a punctuation. With these excellent actors all playing wannabe con artists, the f word is a manipulation, the perfect metaphor for theater itself. Converging on Santo Loquasto's magnificently detailed junk shop set, this unholy trinity plots the theft of a rare coin collection. Cedric's performance is especially affecting as the pivotal Donny; at center of the scam he has to keep the menacing Teach (Leguizamo) and child-like Bobby (Osment) in line. Needless to say, their bluster masks their weak egos, and worse, their low expectations of life itself. Unfortunately, as if life follows art, the play may end its run this weekend. See it while you can.

 

And if you want coins, there are coins aplenty -disappearing and re-emerging in odd places in Eric DeCamps' magic show at the Metropolitan Room on Sunday at 4.  Coin tricks are just the warm up for other illusions: transmigration, calling of the cards, and Houdini's challenge from this magician's magician.

Regina Weinreich

Graphic Design: Salpeter Ventura

The Doctor is In: Three on a Couch, Caroline's, 21, Gonzo 7

“3 on a Couch,” Carl Djerassi's comedy now in production at SoHo Playhouse, could be presented heavily philosophical, or light and slapstick. At a recent pre play dinner at Ama, Djerassi-who is Viennese and who in a previous life as a chemist invented the pill, (yes, that pill)-- told me, his theatrical work is influenced by Tom Stoppard and Harold Pinter, so he would have liked to see his play of ideas performed with a pinch of gravitas. He finds it mildly irksome that the director went more for the funny bone. As a result of Elena Araoz's efforts, though, sight gags and pratfalls convey the hilarious illogic of a man who fakes his own suicide, the brilliance of a woman who insists upon the uses of the mango fork, and the elastic Bill Irwin-type body of the doctor who treats them. I hope Dr. Djerassi won't mind my critique: his play best brings to mind Beckett's tragicomedy, “Waiting for Godot.”
     And speaking of laughs there were quite a few at Caroline's Comedy Club for the annual benefit for Autism Research when Audrey Flack and her Art Officials took the stage singing and strumming an original composition on the lives of Jackson Pollock and Caravaggio accompanied by banjos. Flack, a New York artist famous for her painting and sculpture knows from whence she speaks and it helped that she had a straight man (as in foil), a suit from the Smithsonian, Charles Duncan, to play off her smart lyrics.
    21 hosted a breakfast in celebration of a new book on the subject of men's aging. How timely! The early diners, many of them over sixty, definitely sexy, smartly dressed, and decidedly successful feasted on superb scrambled eggs and bacon-although some cautiously opted for granola-- while Dr. Robert Schwalbe explained his reasons for writing “Sixty, Sexy, and Successful: A Guide for Aging Male Baby Boomers.” He was noticing certain trends in men coming into his psychoanalytic practice. A handsome 64, he was also seeing some signs in himself. The smart crowd did not miss the nuance, as the doctor limned symptoms reminiscent of the bewildering case of our former governor Eliot Spitzer. The diagnosis: He could have used this book.
    And finally, in this election frenzy, a documentary on the life and times of Dr. Hunter S. Thompson will be released on the 4th of July. “Gonzo,” directed by Alex Gibney, this year's Oscar winner for “Taxi to the Dark Side,” arrives just in time to remind us what real American patriotism is all about. The provocative film, narrated by Johnny Depp who starred in the movie of Thompson's “Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas,” on the writer and inventor of Gonzo journalism who committed suicide in 2005, will inspire some thought about how Dr. Thompson might now be kicking butt with his in your face writing, that is, if he were in

Dr.Regina Weinreich 

Graphic Design: Salpeter Ventura

Baby Jane Dexter at the Metropolitan Room

What’s the opposite of diva? That’s Baby Jane Dexter. At last weekend’s set at The Metropolitan Room, her robust performance, her ease with her audience and fans, and her material including ‘60’s and early ‘70’s rock made this a most friendly cabaret evening. The room was packed for her celebration of a new CD “You’re Following Me” recorded here in April. From “Zing Went the Strings (of my Heart)” to “Love Potion Number 9,” you could feel the empathy in the room. Interviewed on NPR recently, she spoke about the relationship of her singing and healing. Baby Jane is soulful without necessarily singing soul. She’s warm and funny, especially when describing a particular weakness for the frozen hot chocolate at Serendipity. I can soooo relate. You are in luck. You can catch her act at the Metropolitan Room on December 29. Prepare for emotional rescue.

Regina Weinreich                            Graphic Design: Salpeter Ventura

Songs of Innocence and Experience at the Metropolitan Room

The title of William Blake's great epic of pre-and post-expulsion from Eden is an apt image for two recent pleasurable evenings at The Metropolitan Room. The pain and wisdom of  “experience” could define the themes performed theatrically by the veteran singer Julie Wilson accompanied on piano by Christopher Denny. With knowing, teasing eye-lash batting and brisk throws of her boas, red and black, over a sequined shoulder, she plays provocateur singing standards like “It Was Fascination,” “Let Me Entertain You,” “Good Morning Heartache,” “I Won't Say I Will But (I Won't Say I Won't),” and “The Ladies Who Lunch,” which she dedicated to “the girls who stay smart.” She's a woman of a certain age, unabashed 82, and she still has “It.”
Channeling the looks of Elizabeth Taylor in her National Velvet years, newcomer Judy Butterfield takes the stage in hair barrettes and an off the shoulder gown; if she is representative, the next generation of cabaret stars is coquettish and refined. A protégé of Andrea Marcovicci, Butterfield orchestrated her show, Judy Sings Judy: Songs of a Young Garland, to trace the earlier, lesser performed career of the singer who took us “over the rainbow.” Smart and funny, Butterfield mixes the music with anecdotes: how Judy got her name (Frances Ethel Gumm just wouldn't do), how she got her contract with MGM (performing “Eli Eli,” a song she learned for a bar mitzvah for Louis B. Mayer), how she sang for Clark Gable's 36th birthday (Dear Mr. Gable, she chimed to a framed picture of the star, “You Made Me Love You”), all the while taking us through Garland's greatest hits: “Zing Went the Strings of my Heart,” “Clang Clang Clang Went the Trolley,” “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,” among others. With Michael Lavine on piano, she does a duet Garland had performed with Mickey Rooney: “Good Morning, Good Morning” and, reminding us that as a friend in the movies, Mickey sometimes left her alone, she sings: “They're Writing Songs of Love, But Not for Me.” By the time she brings down the house with the signature “Over the Rainbow,” you know you are in the presence of a talent on the brink; at 17, she's that good.

                                                                                        Regina Weinreich