Touring Shows

I Choose to Leave

Michael Kape

Dammit, it happened to me again. I was attending a local production of Grand Hotel, a musical I really like. I grant you it’s not an easy show to stage, and it requires some real acting AND singing chops to pull it off right. I’ve seen it twice before, but it was a part of my subscription series at this theatre, so I went. Two other musicals in this season so far were Hairspray and Best Little Whorehouse in Texas.

I walked out of all three at intermission

Pul-leez, don’t tell me out of courtesy to the performers I should have stayed for the whole thing. Why? Hell, more than 30 years ago, one of my employees was appearing in a misbegotten production of Oliver. I liked Lance, but the man could not sing nor dance nor act. My BFF and I fled at intermission. (We kind of knew we were in trouble when the program listed every piece of music in the show, including the scene change music. Huh? What?) When I saw him Monday morning, he completely understood.

As I’ve noted before, I spent seven years on the Dark Side as a theatre critic. As such, I could not leave at intermission no matter what (though there were times when I wished I had).

During that time, Miss Saigon came to town. I had seen it once already in New York and left the Broadway theatre screaming internally because I hated it so much (fake emotions, overamplified music, terrible retelling of the Madame Butterfly story). When I was called upon to review it, I figured (wrongly) I must have misjudged it and I’d go in with a completely open mind. (I have since learned if I think something is terrible on the first outing, it’s never going to get better on subsequent ones, the four times I agonized through Cats.) The night I saw Miss Saigon, seated next to me was the artistic management of the Alliance Theatre in Atlanta. Yes, that included a future internationally-acclaimed director (for Hunchback) and a future Tony-winning director (for Raisin in the Sun). At intermission, they ALL walked out. I was left by myself in the entire row. I wish I could have joined them. By the time I found my car in the parking lot after the show, I was screaming (out loud) mad. I hadn’t misjudged Miss Saigon; I had suffered through it twice.

Walking out of a really bad production or an awful show is a major luxury for me these days. I don’t savor walking out, but I don’t deny myself that possibility if my ears are ringing from off-key performers screeching in my ear on the last note of a major song (while being overamplified by head microphones). I didn’t deny myself the pleasure of leaving a supposedly hit Broadway comedy if I didn’t laugh once in Act I. I didn’t deny myself the relief coming from leaving a revival of an antiquated British sex comedy, which just seemed plain stupid. I certainly didn’t deny myself the gratification of walking out at intermission of a popular (well, with teenaged girls) musical I found to be shrill and mediocre in its best moments (though I regrettably did sit through the whole thing a second time). I definitely didn’t deny myself giving into the anger I felt watching a star-studded revival of a brilliant drama done badly by every actor in the all-male cast. (Okay, in order: that production of Grand Hotel; Tale of the Allergist’s Wife; Boeing, Boeing; Wicked; and the ill-fated That Championship Season—fortunately, that was a $1.50 ticket from Play-by-Play).

As I noted in my last blog, going to the theatre is a kind of therapy for me. For two or more hours, I am transported out of my own woes (being widowed; now living with Tourette after being poisoned by a medicine I was taking) and into another world. If I’m not enjoying myself (be it a drama, a comedy, a musical, or a piece of performance art), then that night (or afternoon) of theatre has failed me. Why should I suffer through another act?

Producers have gotten wise to people like me; they eliminate the intermission so we can’t leave. How do I know this? Two ways. First, about 10 years ago I got involved in the production of my first Broadway show as an investor. It was a wonderful script called Impressionism and was going to be a great show—or so I thought. Went to the second preview, and it was terrific. Then some negative buzz started appearing online, and unfortunately, the director listened to it. Cut the show to shreds and eliminated the intermission because some people were walking out. The result? On opening night, I didn’t recognize the play at all. It was awful. Terrible. Really bad. It closed quickly and I lost my investment.

Fast forward to a couple of years ago in Los Angeles. In Southern California, no matter how bad a show is, the audience gives it a standing ovation (and you know how I feel about those). Except once. The show was Amélie, and I knew there was trouble ahead when I saw makeshift signs posted in the theatre about there being no intermission (though one was advertised in the program). At the end of this unholy mess, there was a smattering of polite applause, no standing O, and people ran to escape the Ahmanson. I guess too many people had walked at intermission when it first played in San Francisco (where audiences are much less polite).

I’m sure at this point someone might be tempted to snark at me about how if I was a decent person, I would stay out of courtesy to the actors and the effort they’ve put forth. Sure, if I was a decent person. I never said I was (hence how easy to lapse into the critic’s role as well as rightly earning my sobriquet of ATB’s Grumpy Olde Guy®).

Recently, I went to see a local production of a play near and dear to my heart, The Diary of Anne Frank. I was in a production many years ago (typecast as the grumpy olde dentist, of course), and I had taught the play to a class of teenagers when I was in college. However, this production was so badly directed, designed, and acted I couldn’t stay. I was cringing in my seat during the entirety of Act I and I did not want to subject myself to even more torture in the second act. Can you blame me? Wait, maybe some of you can.

I’ve forced myself to sit through badly done Shakespeare (King Lear with Sam Watterson a few years back at the Public) but have walked out of the Scottish Play with a well-known actor (who shall remain nameless because I think he now omits it from his resume). I’ve bitten the bullet and sat through such gems as Censored Scenes From King Kong (which Carrie Fisher never acknowledged she did on Broadway) and America Kicks Up Its Heels by William (Falsettos) Finn starring Patti LuPone. (Years later, my BFF was at a party with her and brought up us having seen her in it at Playwrights Horizon. She categorically denied it. She swore up and down she didn’t do it. She did. We saw her do it.) I even forced myself to sit through all of Love Never Dies, one of the 10 worst musicals ever written (in my opinion) because people on ATB swore Act II was better than Act I. It wasn’t. I suffered in agony through that whole goddamn piece of crap. I couldn’t even laud the actors because they were pretty terrible in it as well—though no one could make such substandard material work. But really, did the Phantom have to do a bad Lon Chaney Jr. impression at the top of the show?

Now it’s your turn. Have you ever walked at intermission? Have you ever been tempted to not return for Act II (only to discover Act II was even worse)? If so, what was the show?

And for those of you unfortunate to have to stay for the entirety of a really bad production because you knew someone in the cast, might I offer you some surefire lines to say after the show? Here are my favorites:

·         “Well, that was interesting.”

·         “You should have been out front.” (Especially good if the actor was really bad.)

·         “I don’t remember seeing anything quite like tonight.”

·         “I know professional actors who couldn’t do the role like you did.”

·         “You certainly had a lot of people talking.”

And if you’ve ever been the recipient of any of these remarks as an actor, thank your lucky stars you have friends not willing to tell you the whole stinking truth (ooh, flash to Bosom Buddies from Mame).


(Grumpy Olde Guy® a/k/a Michael Kape has lived too long, some say—him included. He says life’s too short to put up with bad theatre. So, he doesn’t! If you all weren’t so much nicer than him, you wouldn’t either.)


My Personal Year in Review

Steven Sauke
As 2018 comes to a close (already?!), I thought it would be nice to look back on the musicals I have seen in the past couple years. Looking at the list, nearly all of them are based on, or at least inspired by, real events. Some were live onstage, while several of them were on Fathom Events in movie theaters.

In no particular order, these are the shows that stand out in my memory.

Here Lies Love

This musical by David Byrne and Fatboy Slim tells the story of Imelda Marcos, former first lady of the Philippines. Having grown up in the Philippines in the 80s and early 90s, there were parts of this show that I remember experiencing.

A friend got me a ticket, and I wasn’t sure what to think about the “standing room” tickets that we got. I was particularly surprised to notice in the lobby that the “standing room” tickets were the most expensive at the Seattle Repertory Theatre. Having not seen a show at that venue in the past (also where Come from Away performed its pre-Broadway shows, which I missed), I was not quite sure what to expect. I was told we would be onstage, and that people would be directing us where to go as the actors performed. This confused me, as I wasn’t sure if we might be blocking the audience from seeing the show. As we entered the theatre, they handed out glow-in-the-dark earplugs, warning us that it would be very loud, and we would need them. We were ushered into a fairly small rectangular room with a large disco ball in the middle hanging over a long table spanning nearly the width of the room. Spotlights were everywhere, and there was a family portrait of the Marcoses projected on one wall. At first I thought we would go from there into the theatre. Then I realized this room was the stage. The seats are on balconies above the stage, looking down on it.

As the show started, the disco ball rose up to the ceiling, and the DJ introduced the show from his raised box in one corner of the stage. On the opposite end of the stage, a woman said, “Excuse me” and brushed past me as she climbed the steps to that part of the stage to join the young Imelda, already on stage. A tropical downpour was projected on the wall behind the actresses as we got to know Imelda and her childhood friend Estrella on the eastern Philippine island of Leyte. As the story progressed, we saw her growing relationship with Ninoy Aquino, who was more interested in politics while she was interested in fashion. She joined a beauty pageant and became the “Rose of Tacloban.” (Tacloban is the capital of the island province of Leyte.) I was fascinated with the quick costume changes during that song that they didn’t even try to hide, as she went from one beautiful Philippine dress to another, with stagehands donning new costumes on her. Eventually, her relationship with Ninoy was interrupted when she met a certain Ferdinand Marcos and dated and married him in short order. On their honeymoon, they danced on the beach, or in our case, what I initially thought was a long table when entering the theatre. This was also the first time I have seen someone dancing in tsinelas (flipflops). I was fascinated by the interesting footwear, and was then fascinated that I had to stop and think of the English word for it.

As the story continued, we learned about their turbulent marriage and the political rivalry that grew between Marcos and Aquino. Marcos would eventually declare martial law [side note: the period of martial law was when we moved to the Philippines], and Aquino’s outspoken opposition to it got him arrested and imprisoned. (A wheeled stairway was turned backwards and became his cell.) Imelda visited him in prison and encouraged him to move to America to escape all of this. He and his family moved, but he couldn’t stay away. In an emotional farewell on the tarmac in the US, he sang good bye to his wife Corazon and son Ninoy III, and climbed the stairs. The staircase that had been his prison cell was now the stairway to the plane, and then the stairs off the plane in Manila at what would eventually become known as Ninoy Aquino International Airport. As he started to descend the stairs, there was a loud bang, flash, and he slumped over as the lights went dark. His mother Aurora Aquino sang a mournful song, dressed in black and carrying a black umbrella, as the mourners crossed the stage. His assassination in 1983 played a major part in the people rising up in the bloodless 1986 People Power Revolution to elect a new president, Corazon Aquino, and force the Marcos family into exile in Hawaii. Imelda mournfully wondered why the Philippine people no longer loved her, and her estranged friend Estrella wondered the same thing about Imelda.

With the Marcos family gone, the DJ came down to the stage and sang the final song, accompanied on his guitar. The company then returned to close the show.

Throughout the show, the stagehands, wearing glow-in-the-dark pink and holding glowsticks, directed those of us in the onstage audience around the stage as stages, tables, and other set pieces rotated and were otherwise moved. By the end of the show, most of the stage and “long table” had moved to one end of the stage. For Aurora Aquino’s song, she and fellow mourners were on a part of stage that was slowly transported from one end to the other as the song continued. After that, the performance was on the bare floor on the end of the stage that no longer had raised stage pieces. Throughout, the action was all around us and we had to turn around and move to take it all in. The news media was represented by reporters and cameramen, and as the cameramen filmed, their cameras projected the footage on the wall. Throughout, people were identified by their name on the walls, similar to how they would be identified in a news report. The years and locations were similarly projected on the walls.

It was a powerful show, and the staging was unlike anything I have experienced elsewhere. Thus far, it has played in New York, London and Seattle, and last I heard they were hoping it will make it to Broadway. I hope it does. In some ways it reminded me of Miss Saigon and Evita, and was more powerful for me because I remember some of the events in the last few minutes of the show. In 1986, we got a vacation from school during the People Power Revolution because it was too dangerous for us to be out.


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Miss Saigon

This show is more familiar to the Broadway community, so I will not go into the plot as much as I did with Here Lies Love. It was inspired by several sources: primarily, a heartbreaking photo of a Vietnamese woman at the airport saying good bye to her child to give them a better life. It is also inspired by Pierre Loti’s novel Madame Crysanthème and the opera that book inspired, Giacomo Puccini’s Madama Butterfly. I saw the London cast as filmed for Fathom Events to celebrate the 25th anniversary of the musical. It tells the story of Christopher Scott, an American marine stationed in Vietnam at the end of the war, and his relationship with Kim, a Vietnamese teenager who fled an attack on her village and found a less than desirable job in the big city. Chris and Kim spend an eventful night together, and just like that, Saigon falls and he is forced to leave without her. Three years later, Kim finds herself in Bangkok trying to provide for her young son Tam and absolutely certain that Chris will come back for her and their son. Chris, meanwhile, convinced he would never see Kim again, has remarried and is building a life with his new wife Ellen. Ellen is bewildered by Chris’s nightmares, and they are further shocked when they learn that Kim is still alive, and that Chris has a son. Chris and Ellen go to Bangkok, and though a series of unfortunate circumstances, it falls to Ellen to tell Kim that Chris has now remarried. Kim wants to send her son to America with his father, but Ellen feels it would be better for the child to be with his mother. Kim takes decisive measures to ensure that, by her sacrifice, Tam will have a better life in America.

There was an intermission between acts (the first time I have experienced this at a movie theater), and then a second intermission after the second act. After that, they showed the 25th Anniversary celebration. The original cast (as many as could come) were there, and Lea Salonga (the original Kim) sang a duet with the current “Gigi” of “The Movie in My Mind.” Lea also did a duet with Simon Bowman (original Chris). The composers were there as well.

While for the most part I loved the show, I find it sad that the song “Her or Me”, which then morphed into “Now that I’ve Seen Her”, was cut in favor of a completely different song called “Maybe.” The tune was nothing like its predecessors, and it felt out of place, tacked on to a masterpiece. I would have preferred that they keep the powerful “Now that I’ve Seen Her.”

This is an emotional and powerful show, and having grown up in Asia, it also resonated with me with the Asian elements. I have not been to Saigon/Ho Chi Minh City, but I have been to Bangkok (though not the parts of Bangkok portrayed in the musical). Before moving on to the West End and Broadway, Lea Salonga was popular in the Philippines, so I grew up hearing her. Though I do not recommend this show for children, it is very powerful and moving. My eyes were watering at times watching it.


This has played on Fathom Events in movie theaters several times. I highly recommend it, as it is very educational, and it is about a part of our history that was not taught at length in school. While almost all the characters are fictional, it is inspired by George Takei’s memories of being in a Japanese internment camp during World War 2. The way they were treated was shameful, and I believe everyone needs to watch this to make sure we do not repeat this dark part of our history. It is an inspirational story of never giving up on family and treating all humans with dignity. It teaches the Japanese concept of gaman (我慢), or holding up in tough times in a patient and dignified manner. George Takei, Lea Salonga, Telly Leung and the rest of the cast shone.

The show was followed by a documentary about the internment camps. There’s so much we weren’t taught, so much we need to know. The next time this airs, please do yourself a favor and go see it.


This is a parody of the Harry Potter story, following the saga through the events of all seven books from the perspective of the Puffs. (The houses are renamed, probably to avoid copyright issues. They are the Snakes, the Braves, the Smarts and the Puffs.) Wayne lives in the US and is surprised to get an owl telling him that he has been accepted at Hogwarts in the UK. He had no idea his parents, who he never knew, were British. It skims over the highlights of the seven books, as the Puffs are constantly outshone and outdone, but they do their best to make their contributions despite being underappreciated. While this is not Harry Potter canon, I think I will leave the plot description at that, as it is important to #keepthesecrets with all things Harry Potter.

This play was filmed off-Broadway, and I saw it on Fathom Events in a movie theater. It is a fun show, particularly enjoyable for fans of the books that inspired it. I’m not sure how well people who do not know the story would understand what is going on, but I’m sure they would still enjoy it. The cast is small, with most actors playing multiple roles. It’s similar to Come from Away in that respect (though that’s probably the only similarity). The stage is also surprisingly small, considering the sweeping scope of the story. In a way, that kind of highlights how the Puffs are small and underappreciated (underrated?), but their value is much greater than it appears.


Disney came out with their movie about the 1899 New York newsboy strike while I was in high school. My freshman year in high school we did a Disney revue and performed “King of New York.” So I was excited years later when they did a Broadway version, and was further excited when I found out they were filming a stage production with the combined touring cast and members of the original Broadway cast. This was an opportunity I could not pass up.

As with all Disney’s Broadway shows based on movies, they added songs and plot elements. For example, the characters of Denton and Sarah (Davey and Les’ sister) were combined into Katherine, daughter of Pulitzer. Medda Larkin, the “Swedish Nightingale” in the movie, was decidedly not Swedish in the Broadway version, but just as amazing. One of my favorite moments in the movie is where they sing near the beginning, “When you’ve got a hundred voices ringing, who can hear a lousy whistle blow?”, and then that changes later on to “When you’ve got a million voices ringing, who can hear a lousy whistle blow?” A stage production can’t replicate the large crowds they can have in a movie, so that didn’t have the same effect on me; however, what did give me similar chills was the new song “Brooklyn’s Here.” Up to that point, the newsies’ attempts to gather support from other groups depended on the response from Spot Conlon and his group of Brooklyn newsies. Once they respond in support, the other boroughs join in. This is a powerful story of what can be accomplished by a unified effort. I also liked the way the Broadway version incorporated Teddy Roosevelt better than the movie.

Something Rotten

This is the show that taught me that it might not be wise to listen to a cast recording of a musical comedy for the first time in the car while driving down the freeway. I tend to shut my eyes when I laugh hard. Yeah, not a good idea while driving. I managed to keep my eyes open, but it was a challenge. “A Musical” was the song that did me in.

So of course, the theatre being a much safer place to be doubled over laughing, I jumped at the opportunity to see the show when it came to Seattle! It was absolutely worth it. The rivalry between Shakespeare and the Bottom Brothers was like no other. Throw in Nostradamus and an attempt at stealing an idea Shakespeare will have in the future, and you get an omelet! The nods to other musicals and constant parodies and puns made for an evening of hilarity. Adam Pascal was brilliant as Shakespeare. I highly recommend this show if you get the opportunity.

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I was initially skeptical of this show. I am not a fan of hip hop and rap, and I also have an aversion to an excess of swearing. I learned early on that this show has both. When I first tried listening to the cast recording a couple years ago, I turned it off during the first track because it just wasn’t my kind of music. More recently, I decided to give it another chance due to its popularity, and I made myself listen to the entire (rather long) cast recording. I found out that, once you get past the style and the swearing, it is actually a powerful, moving show. So, when I learned it was coming to Seattle, I was much more excited about it than I had been in the past. But I didn’t have much hope of seeing it due to the very expensive price tag. My brother’s employer came to the rescue, as they paid for a group of their employees to go see it, with the possibility of bringing a guest. Since I have an awesome brother, I got to go see it! (My coworkers were jealous.)

The show follows the life of Alexander Hamilton, from his early political life, to his death in a duel with Aaron Burr, sometime after his son’s similar death. It follows his romance and marriage to Eliza Schuyler, with twists and turns along the way, as well as his contributions to American politics and history. It is a powerful musical, and I highly recommend it. (“Immigrants: We get the job done!”) I would love to see it again. (King George was probably right. I’ll be back. Da da da da da da da da da da-ya da!) I would also say it is worth it just to see Lafayette rapping in a strong French accent.

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Taproot Theatre, one of Seattle’s premiere community theatre groups, put on the lesser-known musical Crowns, which is about the African American experience in the South. Yolanda, a city girl from Brooklyn, visits, and six women (and one man) tell her their stories with the hats (or crowns) they wear to church and elsewhere. It is a joyful and moving celebration of the human spirit, and Yolanda is slowly changed over the course of the show. I recommend it.

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Come from Away

I have gone into detail on the plot and songs of this show in previous blogs, so here I will focus more on my experience, most of which happened after my post in August. Interviewing the people who inspired the show gave me a new perspective on the tragedy that I remember, and the way others responded to it around the world. I now count several of them among my friends.

Our Bible study group from my church decided to go to the show during its run, as there are many lessons in the show that express a biblical view of how to welcome strangers with open arms (that far too many of my fellow Christians seem to have forgotten, but that’s another matter). Our group leader is a subscriber at the 5th Avenue Theatre, and bought tickets for us, that we were going to need to pay back. However, she asked that we wait to pay her back because an anonymous donor had offered to cover part of the cost. She was blown away when said donor ended up paying the ENTIRE cost for our group to see it! I still don’t know who paid for us to see it, but if you’re reading this, thank you!!

Top: With Diane Davis; Middle: with Kevin Tuerff; Bottom: Hannah, Beulah and Bonnie.

Top: With Diane Davis; Middle: with Kevin Tuerff; Bottom: Hannah, Beulah and Bonnie.

Having interviewed several of the people involved over the internet, I wanted to meet them in person. Kevin Tuerff invited me to a special screening of the HBO Canada documentary You Are Here: A Come From Away Story. He said I could invite a guest, so my brother came with me. It was a deeply moving documentary, and I am looking forward to it being available for US and international audiences. The experience was even more powerful sitting down the row from Kevin Jung, right behind Janice Goudie, Brian Mosher, Beulah Cooper and Hannah O’Rourke. Kevin Tuerff was a couple rows ahead of me. Before the show, I walked up to Nick and Diane Marson and introduced myself and thanked them for the interview. They then introduced me to Bonnie Harris, who was there with her sister. Afterwards, Beulah Cooper gave me a hug. I was amused that Oz Fudge was wearing an “STFD” t-shirt, as that’s his line in the show. I got to speak with Kevin Tuerff, who recognized me, and I took a picture of Bonnie, Beulah and Hannah. The only people not able to make it were Diane Davis and Claude Elliott, who had a conflict in Newfoundland, and Beverley Bass had to leave Seattle that morning, so couldn’t make it to the showing. The director and producer of the documentary were there. Sankoff and Hein were also there, but I didn’t get to meet them.

The Seattle Public Library hosted an event in which a representative from the 5th Avenue spoke about his research and knowledge of the show and its background. He explained how Come from Away is only the third of a very small subset of musicals, one based on interviews. It is not based on any book, movie or anything else. All research by the composers was done by means of interviews at the 10th anniversary celebration in 2011. They compiled many hours of recordings that they used to build a 100-minute musical. (The other musicals based on interviews are A Chorus Line and Working.) Chelsea LeValley, who workshopped the part of Beverley Bass before the show went to Broadway, sang “Me and the Sky.” Two Seattleites who were stranded in Newfoundland after 9/11 then shared about their experiences. One landed in Gander, and the other in St. John’s. Both were welcomed warmly. One difference was that while they allowed passengers to take their carry-ons off the planes in Gander, they did not allow that in St. John’s. So the passengers there had to make do with even less. One of them remembered that before they were allowed to land, planes were circling, waiting for direction where to land. As far up and as far down as she could see out her window, she could see planes circling, like a tornado of planes. But everyone made it down safely.

Our group from church went to see the show a few days later. Before the show, I attended a pre-show talk telling more of the background. We learned about how Sankoff and Hein met and got married. Their first argument was about whether or not music could change the world. They were Canadians living in New York when 9/11 hit, and that night they gathered around their piano with international friends and sang. It was very traumatic, but music and friendship brought them through it.

The show was everything and more I had dreamed it was. It was deeply moving, and I just had to go again. It just so happened that my previous birthday, my family told me we would go as a family to a show, and I was supposed to name the show. Knowing it was coming and that I would want to see it more than once, I requested Come from Away. So the week following the first showing, I saw it again with my family. I was surprised when Caleb at the merchandise booth recognized me and asked if it was my second or third time. My family was equally moved by the show.

Between showings, I had to go downtown to renew my car tabs. The man at the counter at the Department of Licensing saw my Come from Away shirt and asked me about it. He really wanted to see it, but he said his partner had been in New York at the time, and it was still too raw for him. He told me that his partner recalled being inside while everything outside turned black with the ashes from the fires and the rubble, and every once in a while, pieces of paper would hit the windows and blow away.

Partway through the run in Seattle, I found out that Diane Davis was coming, having missed the opening. While the first two times I saw it were planned, this one was not. She told me ahead of time which shows she would attend, and I decided to try to see one of those shows. It was Canada Night. I arrived at the box office and asked if they had rush tickets, but the show was sold out. They told me to wait and see if any seats opened up. So, I waited outside the theatre while someone dressed in RCMP (Royal Canadian Mounted Police) regalia welcomed guests into the theatre. Just before the show was due to start, I returned to the box office, and a seat had opened up! It was even relatively close to the stage. The first time I was in the balcony, and the second time I was in the back of the orchestra level below the balcony overhang. This time I was in row K. It was close enough see the actors’ expressions. After the show, they had a talk-back with Canadian dignitaries, the person who commissioned the show, and others, including Diane Davis. I moved closer to the stage, and when Diane saw me, she mouthed, “Steven?” After the talk-back, Diane gave me a big hug and told me it was nice to see a familiar face.

It was the experience of a lifetime. As my brother so eloquently put it, “So when are we going to Newfoundland?”

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a cod to kiss. I don’t know when, but that must happen.


These are the shows I have seen in the past couple years. What is next? My brother’s employer is sending a delegation to Dear Evan Hansen next month, and he invited me to come too! I can’t wait! I’m currently listening to the audiobook in preparation. (Well, not as I type, but I listen to it when I get the chance.

2018 has been an amazing year. It’s hard to believe it is almost over! I look forward to future adventures in theatre in 2019 and beyond, and I hope everyone has an amazing New Year!


Steven Sauke is a Broadway enthusiast who took all the pictures above, attended all the shows featured in the past couple years, and can get long winded at times.

Beautiful: The Carole King Musical: Shattering the Jukebox Stereotype

Darren Wildeman
At the time of this writing it’s been about a week since I saw Beautiful (it’ll be closer to a month when it’s published) and I have just only in the last couple days gotten “Will You Love Me Tomorrow” out of my head (although that may change when I listen to it yet again). However, traditionally for jukebox musicals the music isn’t usually the issue among audiences. It’s the book. However, I’m getting ahead of myself here. Let me step back a bit and tell why I even went to see Beautiful here and what I expected.

The only reason I went to see Beautiful is because it was a part of my season’s tickets here. And going in I expected it to be the low point of the season. I’m not a huge fan of Carole King’s music when it comes on the radio. Despite this I did enjoy parts of the cast album but obviously the National Tour didn’t have Jessie Mueller so even that I was skeptical on. And then there was the fact that it’s a jukebox musical. And anyone who’s been in ATB or any musical theatre forum knows the reputation that jukebox musicals tend to have. No book. So, while I was going to go because I had the tickets, I honestly wasn’t expecting much.

“A Smiling Blond Woman in a Blue Top”  by Angela George is licensed under  CC BY-SA 3.0

“A Smiling Blond Woman in a Blue Top” by Angela George is licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0

First of all, my sincerest apologies to Sarah Bockel for thinking this show needed Jessie Mueller singing the songs and otherwise being skeptical because the music isn’t my taste otherwise. Don’t get me wrong, Jessie is a fantastic talent but Sarah Bockel as Carole absolutely killed it. She gave one of the best performances from an actor or actress I’ve seen live everything she did was absolutely flawless. Also, Ben Biggers was on as an understudy for Gerry. You couldn’t tell the difference. He was amazing.

Now let’s get into the actual story. The very first moment that stands out to me is when Carole goes to sell her song. There is a brilliant 4th wall break. She hesitates and when asked what’s wrong she goes “I just didn’t expect there to be so many people.” How Carole sells her first song to Donnie- who would be her eventual boss- is intriguing and the “1650 Broadway Medley” when she first steps into the office shows us what kind of sound is popular at the time. It’s fun, and is good exposition to set the time frame, it also brings out some songs that even the oldest and grumpiest of Broadway fans may have forgotten about. There was some trippy stuff that was popular (“Splish Splash I was Taking a bath” anyone?). Anyways, getting back to Carole her meeting of Gerry and the start of their career together flows seamlessly. From Carole getting pregnant, to Gerry asking her to marry him. These moments lead to an incredibly deep performance of “Some Kind of Wonderful.” The song works incredibly well and is beautiful and perfect for this moment in the show.  It also goes on to be given to the Drifters.

Also, it’s worth noting that while throughout the show he isn’t one of the main characters that gets the focus; Donnie is also a great character. The way he’s presented as the tough boss that no one can get to but then just as quickly will also display a soft side to his song writers is also a very good transition and building of a character. He’s tough and wants to be profitable. However, multiple times we see this exterior break and we see just how much he has cares for his song writers. On multiple occasions we see him as dining or conversing with Carole and her friends socially as well as professionally. And eventually when Carole moves, he 100% supports her and connects her to produce Lou Adler to record her solo album.

Possibly one of the most touching moments of the show comes next when Gerry writes “Will You Love Me Tomorrow” this is a tender and beautiful moment and Carole seeing it and singing it is amazing. As it so happens this is around the same time we meet Berry Mann and Cynthia Wilde who are competing with Gerry and Carole for a big opportunity for a song to be sung by the Shirrelles.  While Donnie loved both songs “Will You Love Me Tomorrow” is the song that Carole and Gerry which got picked by Donnie. What follows after this is a brilliant blend of song and book writing by Douglas McGrath. Carole and Gerry are presented as going head to head with Cynthia and Berry as one writing pair writes a song, gets it produced and the other tries to match them. This is almost presented like some sort of boxing match with music. It’s flawlessly executed. Something like this runs the risk of being too repetitive however, Douglas’ book writing prevents that and shows these two pairs cranking out hit after hit in an effective manner. The other thing that comes out that as fierce rivals and competitors that they are to each other they are also becoming good friends. The show focusses on the song writing, yet we see both pairs humanity coming through equally as much. The exposition in this book is brilliant.

At the end of the second act we see that Gerry is cheating. The second act opens with “Chains” which again is amazing placement of this song given how Gerry is fooling around and playing Carole.

 Shortly after he reveals he’s been cheating Gerry has a massive breakdown. He is hospitalized and says he wants to come home. However, it isn’t soon after this that he is revealed to have been cheating again and Carole finally leaves him for good.

Gerry is just a phenomenal character in this show. Not in a morale sense, obviously cheating in a marriage or relationship is not okay. However, I like the writing in that Gerry doesn’t cheat for seemingly no reason. There is clearly something ticking about him and he is most likely mentally ill and what he is experiencing is the result of some sort of inner turmoil. Possibly mania, but regardless it’s clear he’s suffering. When I saw the show, my heart can’t help but hurt for him a little bit. There is no excusing his actions let me make that perfectly clear; however, Gerry appears to have been mentally ill in a time when we knew very little about what being mentally ill meant. He had moments when he wanted to be there for Carole and his daughter, he had moments when he tried, but unfortunately, he went down the wrong path and hurt a lot of people. As we see later in the show, he had a lot of regrets.

Going back to Carole, the other moment I love in this instance is Carole’s mother when Carole tells her it’s over. Throughout the show Carole’s mother is presented as a hard ass who doesn’t at all care about her past or her husband. She’s over him and doesn’t think of him and is harsh towards Carole whenever he is mentioned. However, when Carole tells her, we see the true hurt that her mother has also been masking for years now. Not a day passes when she doesn’t hurt for her lost marriage and lover, and she reveals to Carole just how much hurt is there. Not only does she disclose her hurt to Carole, but she then reminds Carole how much she has done in her career. As Carole was thinking all her song writing and music had been done with Gerry and that she needed him. However, her mother reminded her how young she was when she sold her first song, she shows her that she can carry on without Gerry. In this instance we see who Carole’s mother really is and how strong she has been. She goes from being a necessary but not a large role, to being the parent that Carole once again really needed. In a sense it’s a character reveal how tender and loving she comes across to Carole in this instance as opposed to just being the well-meaning but harsh mother. It’s an incredible flip that is so well written.

From here we see Carole meet Barry and Cynthia in a bar. Barry and Cynthia convince her to sing and she sings what was then a new song “It’s Too Late” this is another brilliant song placement and weaving the already existing song into the score. It reveals the pain that Carole has felt and how she’s trying to move on.

From here we see Carole reveal she’s moving to LA to get a fresh start. Not only is she moving to LA but she tells Donnie she has some songs she wants someone to record and that someone she thinks should be herself. Donnie hugs her and thinks it would be a fantastic idea. She then says goodbye to Donnie, Berry, and Cynthia to start out in LA.

Carole records her album Tapestry and is on the last song. She doesn’t want to record it because it’s one of the songs she wrote with Gerry. Lou Adler convinces her to sing the song because despite all the pain she’s been through which is prominent in a lot of her songs people also need to be reminded of the hope and happiness there can be in love as well. Thus “(You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman” is recorded.

This is yet another fantastic song placement. It would have been easy to place this song towards the beginning of the show when Gerry and Carole are falling in love. But instead it gets placed at the end, which would be the least logical place in the story for such a song. However, after so much hurt, and so much pain, it flips that hurt on its head as a subtle but powerful reminder that even in the darkest times there is hope. The album and Carole go on to win many awards

Finally, Carole is about to play on Radio City, we see Gerry appear backstage. He comes to make amends and apologize for everything. For reasons I discussed earlier about Gerry I like how he’s presented here and how friendly this exchange is without excusing everything Gerry did.

In short, this show was fantastic. I think the reason it worked so well is that Carole wrote a lot of these songs to tell her story. And the writers recognized that and Douglas Mcgrath wrote a near flawless book to weave Carole’s story together with her own songs. From Carole’s own heartbreak and triumph, to her and Gerry’s competition and friendship with both Barry and Cynthia, to her starting over. This show flows near flawlessly and there are no moments where the music takes over to stop the story. The book and the score work together, with neither one taking over or fading away for the sake of the other. It’s a fantastic book and it has 100% deserved to do as well as it has done.


It's the Tonys. Yawn

Michael Kape (a/k/a Grumpy Olde Guy®)

When I was a mere lad of 10 years, CBS broadcast the Tony Awards for the first time. It was 1964, and my family gathered around our big, new RCA color television (a novelty back then) to watch the proceedings. It was an exciting show, with live re-enactments from top Broadway shows—both musicals and plays. I don’t remember too much from the broadcast (c’mon guys, it’s been more than half a century), but I remember saying, “Someday I’m going to be there.”

Well, it took a while, but I did make it a few years ago when two plays in which I was an investor were nominated for four Tonys between them. Didn’t win a single one (we should have won for Best Play, Time Stands Still, and Best Musical Revival Finian’s Rainbow—but I digress). Still, I was able to cross “Go to the Tony Awards” off my bucket list.

In the years before and since, I’ve endeavored to watch the telecasts. I’ve missed some years. When I was in college I didn’t see some of them though I had seen almost all the nominees. After my partner died 10 years ago, I made it a point to be at a theatre (always Off-Broadway or Off-Off-Broadway). We had made such big deal out of watching the telecasts together I couldn’t bear to watch it alone. If you’ve ever been widowed you’d understand.

These days, I’m living out in the desert, 100 miles from Los Angeles. I rely on touring productions. Yes, I still watch the telecasts. No, I don’t really care all that much.

The likelihood of seeing any of the Tony-winning performances in Los Angeles is slim to none (except, of course, when a Tony winner is angling to get noticed by Hollywood producers). Unless a show is going to be sitting for a few months in one theatre (like Hamilton or Aladdin did this season at the Hollywood Pantages), we’re likely to get a scaled-back version of the Broadway production. Most tours are designed to fit a stage depth of no more than 29 feet. Why? Because the Fox Theatre in Atlanta is a major touring house and its depth is, you guessed it, 29 feet. Many Broadway houses are well over 30 feet deep. When they go on the road, they scale the sets back to fit the Fox.  Speaking of touring houses, those producers have an outsized influence on what and who wins the Tonys. They actually make up a large chunk of the Tony voters and their judgment is influenced by what they think would play best in their cities—not necessarily what might be the best shows or the best performances. Oops, did I say this? Yes, I did. It was told to me by one of those touring house producers in a freak moment of candor.

I guess I should get to my point—why I’m no longer particularly excited by the Tony Awards. I’m not going to be able to see any of the scaled-back winners for at least a year or two (or more). In a rare treat (really), I get to see last year’s Best Play, The Humans, next year, a wait of just two years (but not with the Tony-winning cast, which included an old friend from my high school days—who finally won the Tony he so richly deserves). Next year, we’re also getting last year’s Best Musical Revival, Hello Dolly, but of course we don’t get to see the Divine Miss M in her Tony-winning performance.

This year, the big competition in musicals seems to be between Mean Girls and SpongeBob Square Pants. What about Frozen you ask? Heck, Disneyland has been running a scaled-back (surprise) live version of it for many months now. (Yes, I saw it. No, I wasn’t impressed. But I wasn’t impressed by the animated feature, either. I’m the wrong demographic, obviously.) None of these is on the schedule for the 2018-2019 season at any of the four local touring houses. Sadly, neither is The Band’s Visit, the likely winner this year for Best Score. But we’re getting repeat revivals of Les Misérables, Miss Saigon (ugh), Cats (no way I’m wasting any time to see this for a fifth time; four times was bad enough), Fiddler on the Roof (a show I first saw back in 1964—jeez), Something Rotten (it was just here this season, but the bus & truck is out there now), Jersey Boys (for the fourth time), Phantom of the Opera (for the umpteenth time) Spamalot, and Evita. Alas, we will never get to see Groundhog Day or Bandstand.

And this gets me to my biggest gripe. I fully expect Harry Potter and the Cursed Child to win for Best Play and dominate most of the design awards. Will it ever tour? With a cast of 40 and a five-hour running time (spread out over two seatings), not bloody likely. I’ve read the published script (it’s simply incredible, of course). I’m a huge Harry Potter fan and would really like to see it. But it’s sold out years in advance in New York and the sheer, massive logistics make it impossible to tour. Unless there’s a scaled-back (ugh), cut down to three hours (double ugh) production. It just won’t be the same.

So yes, I’m going to be watching the Tonys this year—at home in the desert. Am I going to be all that excited? No, not really. I won’t ever see any of the winning performances live. I won’t see the same show as it’s being done on Broadway when I eventually have it on one of my subscription series.

The Theatre Wing (which presents the Tonys) touts how the telecast promotes live theatre in the hinterlands (you know, places like Los Angeles or Chicago or the place where you live if you’re not in the New York metropolitan area). And touring houses promote some shows as “the Tony-winning production of [show name],” but fail to mention the Tonys were for performances, not the show itself. What, a tour producer over-hype a show? Impossible.

You know something? This frustrates me and makes me grumpy. And you know you should not make me grumpy. It isn’t pretty (but neither am I, so how can anyone tell the difference).

Grumpy Olde Guy® at the 64th Annual Tony Awards.

Grumpy Olde Guy® at the 64th Annual Tony Awards.

Lost in Translation- The Art of Translating a Musical

Jonathan Fong

As a specimen of the rare breed that is the international Broadway aficionado, the majority of my exposure to musical theatre has been from various international tours and regional productions; I’ve been fortunate enough to have productions of such well-known musicals as Wicked, Evita, Cats, and more swing by my humble abode of Macau (or Hong Kong, which is close enough for me to go, see a show, and be back for dinner). Now, while most of these productions have been English-language replications of the original productions of the musicals in question, quite a few have, in fact, been translations into the native language here where I live - Chinese (both Mandarin and Cantonese). These translations have intrigued me for as long as I’ve been a thespian; I find the way by which they adapt the source material of a musical for its new audience in a new language to be fascinating. Note that I say adapt, not convert - these translations are never simply a direct conversion of the work into a new language and to describe them as such would be a devaluation of the translation itself. Rather, each translation is the result of a creative process in itself, through which the musical is brought to a new audience in a new light altogether.


Of course, translations should, obviously, keep the musical itself intact; Elphaba should still defy gravity, while Roger and Mimi should still struggle with AIDS. Well, isn’t the best way to preserve the work to directly translate the work, thus preserving every part of it? While such translations might retain, in a literal sense, the basic traits of the musical, most of the time they do so, sadly, at the cost of the artistic characteristics of a musical - subtle yet powerful things such as wordplay, idioms, rhymes, and more become, at best, ‘just another line’; at worst, completely nonsensical. Indeed, it is not just the literal, but the underlying essence - the intent and meaning - of a work that must be preserved; yet, there is no consensus as to what exactly ‘preserving the essence’ of a work entails. Indeed, when looking at translations, one must remember that languages are not merely generic tools for communication, differing only in, say, how you write words or perhaps where you put them in a sentence; rather, languages are products of the culture they originate from, with the most effective translations being assimilations and acculturations rather than simple conversions.

Of course, there are the basics - for instance, verb tenses may differ (some languages, like Spanish, have several different tenses or verb forms for something expressed using just one tense in English), while words and phrases may exist in one language that have no equivalent in any other language nor that possess the same effect when used in a different cultural context. Effective translations, in this regard, may not be verbatim nor say exactly what the original text does; however, what they do retain is the effective intent and meaning of what is being translated. For instance, the Spanish translation of Wicked’s ‘Defying Gravity’, used in Wicked’s 2013 Mexican production, rather than directly translating the famous lyric “So if you care to find me, look to the western sky”, instead phrased the lyric as “Voy hacia el horizonte donde se pierde el mar” (in English - “I’m going to the horizon where the sea disappears”), which, while not being an exact translation (and removing the reference to Elphaba being the Wicked Witch of the West), captures the underlying meaning of what the lyric is trying to say, thus allowing the audience to not just hear, but understand what is being said to the same extent as an audience seeing Wicked in English.

There are also, of course, the factors of alliteration, assonance, and rhyme schemes, each powerful literary devices used in song, rap, and more - the effectiveness of these literary and musical characteristics, and the impact should they be lost, should not be underestimated. Rhymes, assonance, and more allow songs and the spoken word to flow fluidly, in a way ‘guiding’ the audience’s ear and mind through a song. I find that in this regard, effective translations will generally aim to either preserve the original rhyme scheme or assonance of the work through clever word choice and/or wordplay or replace the original with a suitable yet different rhyme scheme or assonance which flows with the original melody or rhythm of the work. An example of this can, again, be seen in the Spanish translation of Wicked, with the first two lines of the final verse being translated as:


Voy hacia el horizonte donde se pierde el mar

Un mago me predijo llegará tu hora volar


(In English:

I’m going to the horizon where the sea disappears

As the magician/wizard predicted, my time to fly has come)


If the original English lyric of “look to the western sky” were to be directly translated, the last word of the phrase would likely be ‘oeste’ (Spanish for ‘west’), which, unlike ‘mar’ (Spanish for ‘sea’), doesn’t rhyme with ‘volar’, the Spanish word for ‘fly’ (or ‘to fly’); thus, the use of ‘mar’ not only preserves, as described prior, the meaning of the lyric itself but also the rhythmic flow of the song.

In some cases, even the very pronunciation rules of the language into which a work is translated can be entirely different. For instance, tonal languages such as Thai, Chinese, Japanese, and more, which are common particularly in Asia, use different ‘tones’, or pitch inflections, to determine (combined with context) what is being said - to put it simply, if you get the tones wrong, people won’t be able to understand you due to the sheer number of characters/phrases which share tones but have different meanings; in Mandarin, for example, you could end up gravely insulting someone’s mother instead of simply stating the Chinese term for a type of horse. This has the effect of, to put it lightly, really screwing with translations of musical works written in non-tonal languages like English (as the majority of musicals are) whose melodies don’t take the use of any sort of phrasal tone into consideration. Effective translations of works into such languages will take into consideration the tones being used, choosing words, phrases, and/or characters effectively to not only preserve the rhyming, assonance, and more of the original (as described above), but also allow the tones to ‘flow’ smoothly and aid audience comprehension; this is far easier said than done, of course, as there are only so many ways you can convey an idea or concept through language. Indeed, the best translations of musicals take in consideration not just the literary but also the musical characteristics of the musical, allowing them maintain both meaning and rhyme/assonance without significant loss in comprehension by ensuring the ‘tones’ are not overly disrupted by the melody and rhythm and vice versa. A particularly effective example of this, which I actually saw live myself, would be the Mandarin Chinese translation of Cats, used in the 2012 Chinese tour of the feline musical; for instance, the following lyrics from the song ‘Journey to the Heaviside Layer’ were translated as such:



Up, up, up, past the Russell Hotel

Up, up, up, up, to the Heaviside Layer


飛,飛,飛,越過高高山巔 (Fēi, fēi, fēi, yuèguò gāo gāoshān diān)

插上翅膀飛到九重高天 (Chā shàng chìbǎng fēi dào jiǔchóng gāo tiān)


While the use of ‘飛’ (pronounced Fēi; meaning ‘fly’) for ‘up’ rather than the equivalent direct translation of ‘up’ (上; pronounced Shàng) may seem like a simple poetic choice of phrasing, it actually allows the melody to be sung more naturally. The vocal melody of the song calls for ‘Up, up, up’, or rather ‘飛, 飛, 飛’, to be sung on the same note without variation; as ‘上’ (Shàng) is pronounced with a falling tone (pitch decreasing as the character is pronounced), it thus conflicts with the melody due to it grammatically requiring a change in pitch. On the other hand, ‘飛’ (Fēi ) is pronounced with a level tone (staying on the same pitch throughout the character’s pronunciation); thus, its use not only retains the original underlying meaning of ‘ascension’ or ‘rising’ of the lyric but also makes comprehension of the phrase easier for the audience.

Last but certainly not least, the cultural appeal of a translation must be considered. To consider any work of musical theatre, and hence any translation of a musical, entirely independent of cultural factors and relevance is, simply, ignorant - every musical has its own cultural references and allusions which may appeal to its original audience but not to the audience of a translated version of itself; the most effective translations I’ve seen are the ones who have managed to successfully account for cultural factors. An example of this is, once again, the aforementioned Mandarin Chinese translation of Cats - for example, in the original English version of Cats, the song ‘Bustopher Jones’ makes reference to several foods typical of English pub fare, such as curry, mutton, and rice pudding. These are, for obvious reasons, quite unfamiliar to a Chinese audience; thus, they were changed in translation to more common staples of typical Chinese cuisine, such as steamed dumplings (小籠包), roast duck (燒鴨), and more. Thus, the audience were able to relate on a personal and cultural level with the translation to the same degree as the original audience could with the original English version of Cats (and laugh along just as hard - the changes brought down the house when I saw it, at least).

Indeed, to effectively translate a musical is to balance the changes and modifications necessary to satisfy and negate each of these factors - underlying meaning, rhyming/assonance, and culture - with the artistic, literary, and musical characteristics of the musical itself, thus making the musical just as effective for its new audience as it was for its old. Only thus can a musical be truly, fully, and completely translated without anything, whether it be meaning, cultural relevance, or literary/musical characteristics, being lost in translation.

Les Miserables: A Timeless Treasure


Everyone remembers seeing their favorite musical for the first time live, for most of us theatre lovers it is honestly the experience of a lifetime. There is something so powerful, so emotional, so special about seeing the show that you care so much for live, and for a variety of reasons. For me, that very special experience was Les Misérables. Les Misérables has very well been my favorite musical since I first became a fan of theatre. I remember randomly coming across the 25th Anniversary Concert on the television channel PBS where they were playing it in December of 2010. I watched it out of pure curiosity, and 8 years later, I am so glad I did. Since then I had always been hoping and dreaming of seeing a production of it live. I wasn’t able to make any of the recent Broadway revival performances, so that desire only grew. Now recently, that dream became a reality. On March 4, 2018 in Detroit, Michigan, my biggest dream had come true. Here I will be talking about the incredible cast of the current 5th National Tour (yes, this is Les Mis’s 5th United States Tour) and why I hope they will touch the lives of people all over the country, just like they touched mine. If you haven’t seen Les Misérables, I, one, invite you to watch the 25th Anniversary Concert and the 2012 Film to gain a better understanding of the show, and two, to read with caution as I will be posting some mentions of the story, which can contain spoilers and character deaths.

Let me first mention, that even though this is the same story as previous tours, the re-staging is different. Back in 2010 Laurence Connor wanted to “re-imagine” Les Misérables for newer audiences for the 25th Anniversary, so the ever famous turning table was taken out of the production (I have heard it said it was easier to tour) and some of the sets were changed around. Being a mega fan of the show, I was very worried. However, having seen it in person that pre-conceived mindset I had was gone. It was done absolutely wonderfully, the choreography to make up for the loss of movement was brilliant. Without boring everyone with the technicalities, I would love to mention the movement of the barricade. It was brought in from both sides of the stage and covered the entire stage of The Fisher Theatre here in Detroit (which is honestly a pretty big theatre with a large stage to match). The choreography of The Final Battle in Act 2 being done so timely, with the barricade boys being shot, and them falling backwards to mark that significance of their death, and with the character of Enjolras falling forward to signify that something indeed happened to him, and it was only made aware to us, as the audience, that he did indeed get shot when one of Javert’s Constables brought around a cart, in which we see Enjolras hanging from it, our worst fears confirmed. Another thing I want to quickly mention, in the song “Turning” which is a song that is some of the females of Paris sing about the lost barricade boys, they lay down candles for the boys (one candle per boy) and during the following song “Empty Chairs at Empty Tables” the boys come out and pick up the candles and walk away, a chilling but tear wrenching parallel. Another thing I loved that they did was during “The Epilogue” after Fantine and Eponine introduce Valjean to heaven, The Bishop from the beginning of the show meets him, hugs him, and shows Valjean everyone who is there. To me, that parallel tied the show together perfectly.

At my performance, I had a few understudy and swings on, as some of the cast was off sick (also Joshua Grosso with a minor foot injury, healing power to him), but I cannot praise these understudies enough. Let’s move right along!

I had the immense honor of seeing the Valjean understudy, cleverly nicknamed 24602, Steve Czarnecki. Not only was it, dare I say, awesome, to see an understudy for the main role, it was insanely special to see Steve, as he is from Michigan, so having that hometown represent was amazing to witness. Steve is an incredible Valjean. He carried the show so well, with a powerful voice to match. Whenever the story changed directions, Steve went right along with it and did it in a smooth way. His voice is booming (his Bring Him Home left me absolutely breathless, if I wasn’t already crying him alone would have reduced me to baby tears). His on-stage chemistry with every one of his castmates was wonderful, nothing felt awkward in any scene. He dominated the stage, and everyone went right along with it. He played Valjean as so caring about others, and he made Valjean soft when he needed to be, powerful when he needed to be, and in charge when he needed to be. Something I would love to add, that in The Epilogue, he made Valjean hurting, emotional and soft, he didn’t use the power in his voice for this scene like I have heard previous Valjean’s do in show’s past. That just made the finale so much more sad and beautiful, and I give my hat off to Mr. Czarnecki and his performance as Valjean. He knew exactly what to do and when, all while making it enjoyable.

Photo by DaydreamsGirl/iStock / Getty Images

Photo by DaydreamsGirl/iStock / Getty Images

Josh Davis was on for Javert and he was born for this role. When I read the novel (cleverly nicknamed The Brick by fans), I had this perfect mental image of how Javert acts, looks, and would ultimately sing, and before this nobody has ever come close to that. Josh was the perfect embodiment of Javert. He was passionate, hard, and never went soft like I have heard some Javert’s do. But, he didn’t make him angry. There’s a line between passion and anger with this kind of role, and Josh never crossed it. His voice is once again powerful, and when he was on stage, you listened. He MADE you listen. His “Stars” was absolutely amazing, with that passion right along with it. His scenes with Steve were also enjoyable, as they were such contradictions of another, with Steve’s Valjean having that caring aspect I had mentioned, and Josh having that I’m going to do whatever it takes attitude, and that is why their scenes together were so enjoyable. Their “The Confrontation” was also incredible to witness, with them running over the stage, both of their voices, as powerful as they are, mixing so well together but still being able to hear both. Also a huge round of applause for his final song “Javert’s Soliloquy”, he never once doubted the choice he was going to make, just like he made his Javert noble and confident in his choices, this song wrapped up his portrayal perfectly.

Now, on to Melissa Mitchell as Fantine. You might be familiar with her if you were a fan/were familiar with the recent Broadway revival. From 2014-2015 she was the understudy for Cosette and then from 2015-2016 she was the understudy for Fantine, before ultimately landing the principal spot on Tour. By the time this is published, Melissa would have played her final performance as Fantine (her last performance being March 18, 2018), but enough good things cannot be said about her portrayal. Fantine is my personal favorite character in the novel and musical, and Melissa played her with such perfection, such grace, such determination, I honestly have no words besides beautiful to describe Melissa. Melissa’s Fantine was so determined to do whatever it took for Cosette, much like Josh with Javert, she never once doubted her decisions. Until the very end, her one thought was for her daughter, and that is the true definition of a mother. A quick note of Melissa’s voice, her I Dreamed a Dream is the best rendition of the song I have ever heard. She never once let it drop to a sappy song, she kept it up a power ballad and kept up the fury of what she had happen to her, and she never once was sad or upset about it. Her Fantine was so strong, and she never went down the “giving up” path, until the very end, she never gave up. Her voice and her acting showed that, and that is why I believe Melissa was the epitome of Fantine.


Given that Emily Bautista had just started as Eponine two weeks prior to my seeing her and that I haven’t heard much of her before, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I knew she had just left the recent Broadway Revival of Miss Saigon as the understudy to Kim, but to say I was blown away by her performance as Eponine is an understatement. She played her in a way that I personally have never seen or heard. She was very consistent with her emotions all throughout her time on stage, and she had a lot of chemistry with Robert Ariza, who was on for Marius. To show her “flirting” with Marius, she would get physical with Marius (by physical I mean pushing slightly, having that “oh I don’t like you” attitude, etc.) and would be playful with him as well. I have never seen that and was delightfully entertained by it. She played Eponine so even though to Marius she had the previously mentioned “oh no I don’t like YOU” attitude, it was obvious she had some sort of crush on him, whereas Robert played it to the brother/sister extent, so those two parallels were very nice to see. Her “On My Own” was absolutely spectacular, her voice was large and filled up the entire theatre, and she belted her way through the song which I absolutely loved. I know it is up to the individual on how to deliver the line “all my life, I’ve only been pretending” but most Eponine’s riff it, she just belted all the way through it, and it was spectacular. Her last big note was wonderful and she sang it so effortlessly, a huge bravo to her. Something I couldn’t see very well due to distance, but not only was her acting spot on during “A Little Fall of Rain” (she sang the song all while making it known that she was dying and was shot), but as she was about to die, it seemed she went in to kiss Marius as she died. If so, that is something I personally haven’t seen since 2010 in London when Nancy Sullivan did that with Alistair Brammer.

Another use of that understudy magic, is Robert Ariza. Robert was just about the most happy, most excited Marius I have ever heard. In Act 1, he was just filled with SO much joy as Marius, especially with his scenes with Cosette. Something I just loved that he did was during “In My Life” when he went to Cosette’s window and began throwing stones ala Romeo and Juliet style (again thanks to the re-staging). When she came out for a second then popped back in (which we, as an audience, knew she was coming to meet Marius), he was flustered and kind of laughed his line of “I’m doing everything all wrong” and kind of hit his head, it was the small things like that that Robert did that I just loved so much. Then in Act 2, during the barricade scenes, he really made Marius more attentive and focused, even having Enjolras kind of demanding Marius to rest before “Drink with Me.” Then when it came time for “Empty Chairs at Empty Tables” you could feel his hurt, his guilt and his regret that he was still alive. Robert absolutely made you feel the emotions that Marius was feeling during that time, and it was not only beautiful, but also haunting. Robert knows how to sing with emotions and he did not once let that talent go to waste. Every time there needed to be something felt, he made you feel it. It wasn’t only resonated in his voice, but felt inside the person. Whether it be joy, happiness, or hurt and pain, Robert made you feel what he was portraying for his Marius to feel. Also something I would love to add, as I had mentioned with the candles during “Empty Chairs at Empty Tables” towards the end, all of the barricade boys had backed up, except Enjolras, who was holding his candle out still to Marius, so it was Marius singing to his memory of Enjolras, and even though Mike Schwitter was just standing still and Robert singing to him, that was another example of where his sadness was felt in you.

Jillian Butler was absolutely BORN to play Cosette. She sang with such ease, it came so natural for her. She never once overdid any of the notes that were given to her, it was just perfection. A little thing that she did in “In My Life” was when Marius did his thing after Cosette ran down (about him delivering the line and hitting his head) Cosette came up behind up, coughed and went “ahem” in the cutest way, it was a touching moment to see that. Jillian’s Cosette was playful and so filled with joy and life, and was so soft and sweet as well. Jillian just put so much into her portrayal of Cosette, I wish she was on stage more so I could praise Jillian some more. She was just born to play her, and they are truly one in the same.

Another super understudy-by super I mean he covers both Marius AND Enjolras- that I saw for the latter, was Mike Schwitter. Besides Fantine, Enjolras is my absolute favorite character in the show, and Mike just set the bar so high for him. The way Mike plays off of the Les Amis (aka the barricade boys), is so individual to the boys, all while him being in charge of everything. He made for such a passionate Enjolras, his voice commanded the stage whenever every time he was on which is what I love about the character. Mike made you listen to what was happening, and made you want to follow. Personally, I love it when an Enjolras belts more because the passion shines more, and Mike did that really well. I believe Mike was born to play Enjolras somehow, he played him to a tee. He never made his Enjolras defeated at the barricade, even going into The Final Battle, he kept the passion and spirit up, and he literally fought until the last possible second. Mike’s voice combined with his acting makes for the perfect recipe for Enjolras, one in which was such a joy to watch. Such a powerful voice for a powerful role, and he dominated every scene he was in. You would have never known that earlier in the week he debuted his Enjolras, it seemed that he has been playing the role for ages. He understood the character as well as Melissa understood Fantine, and dare I say this, but his Enjolras is truly iconic. I honestly could go on and on about how spot on Mike played Enjolras, it was truly spectacular.

The Thenardier’s were absolutely hilarious. Thenardier being played by J. Anthony Crane, and Madame Thenardier being played by Allison Guinn, they were just so funny and were the best scene partners for another. J. Anthony just made me laugh so much, I love that during “The Bargain” he kept with the “darling Colette” line, the way he said it so confidently was hilarious. He brought so much life into the character, I have never been a fan of Thenardier, but J. Anthony made me love him so much, because he didn’t play him off as silly as some Thenardier’s are played. He played him off as a real person who just didn’t care and had this “I’ll do whatever I want” attitude. Also, right before “Master of the House” he yelled to Madame Thenardier “I should’ve married your sister!” and I have never heard that done, so to have that just made me laugh so much. He really has a blast on stage with his Thenardier, his comedic timing on everything is perfect, and he didn’t try to be funny with his Thenardier. He just WAS funny. Allison as Madame Thenardier was equally as hilarious and her comedic timing was equally as perfect. She ad-libbed a lot throughout, and it worked so well. She made her Madame Thenardier absolutely not give any cares towards Cosette or her husband’s inn, she knew what she was doing however. Also before “The Bargain” when Valjean walked in with Cosette, she was trying to…you know…get Valjean’s “attention”, and her physical comedy in that scene was so funny. She was all over the stage and she just had a blast with the character. These 2 together are a masterpiece and really complete another in the roles.

A quick special shout to The Les Amis aka the barricade boys. Every one of them played their respective roles so well, and with such ease. They absolutely knew what they were doing, and made me really care about The Amis which I was hoping too, as when I watched the concerts and film I always looked forward to them. A quick shoutout to Brett Stoelker for being an awesome Feuilly. He is one of my favorite barricade boys and Brett’s voice was absolutely wonderful for Feuilly’s line in “Drink with Me.” I would have loved to see Brett in the rest of his barricade boy tracks, as I am sure he is equally as wonderful as the rest of the boys, but for now, his Feuilly absolutely nailed it with an equally as spectacular voice to match. Finally a last note to Matthew Moisey as Grantaire. He played him with such an ease and in Act 1, he made his Grantaire so unbothered by the upcoming events, and he really hammed up his Grantaire. Then, his “Drink with Me” was so heartbreaking, you could hear the fear in his voice of the events, and how he was actually scared of what would happen. He was the best Grantaire I have ever heard, he understood the character so incredibly well, and he made you feel his Grantaire emotions as well.

If you made it this far then congrats! In all honesty though, this cast of Les Misérables had made my first time seeing the show live so memorable and so incredible. This show has helped me through some hard times personally, so this meant everything to me. If you are a hardcore fan of Les Mis, then this cast will not disappoint you. They are the strongest cast of the musical I have ever heard, absolutely nobody is a weak link, and they will leave you breathless and speechless like they left me. I hope everyone has the chance to see this amazing company and this beautiful show. It truly is spectacular and should be seen at least once in everyone’s life.