I won’t lie to you, I’m feeling a little surly this morning. Maybe it’s the grey, snow-spitting skies.
Or maybe it’s the fact that although I’m sitting in my office wearing an underneath shirt, a sweater, a scarf, and a North Face parka, my hands are still cold. I’d like to have a little chat with whoever it is around here who thinks that a chilly wind blowing through an indoor work area, in Minnesota, in March, could possibly be a good idea. I’m not talking about a slight draft, either. The leaves on my plant are aquiver in the constant breeze.
You know what would cheer me up, though? An iPod. Specifically, a black 30-gigabyte iPod that can play video. (I’d settle for white if I had to.) I’ve been considering spending this year’s tax refund on an iPod so I can download my favorite tunes and podcasts and take them walking/jogging/biking with me when it’s warm outside.
Other cheery thoughts: On Tuesday, I accompanied GrassMaster Amy to a performance of
Annie at the grand, historic Orpheum Theatre. We met downtown at the Rock Bottom Brewery for a splendid meal and an overdue catch-up chat. Thanks to an early dinner, we also had time to do a little shopping at the store formerly known as Dayton’s. Then it was on with the show.
I had never seen or read
Annie before and did not know what to expect. For instance, I thought the dog, Sandy, was a main character who would be onstage most of the time, but he was only on for a few seconds here and there. That’s much more realistic, I suppose. Such a good puppy! I noticed and approved of Annie slipping him plenty of treats.
I also expected Daddy Warbucks to articulate some actual reason for liking Annie, but he never does, even when he sings a whole detail-free song about why he’s adopting her. Maybe it was just this particular actor, but I never got the sense he cared about her. Since that caring thing is sort of
the key point of the entire play, I thought it could use a little work.
But those are script issues, not production issues, and the production we saw was very, very good. The girl playing the title role,
Marissa O’Donnell, definitely carried the show. She conveyed 11-year-old energy and cheer without ever being a stagy, saccharine-sweet, over-produced little ham. That’s a huge accomplishment on its own, but O’Donnell also delivered great acting and dancing, and dynamite singing. I was super impressed with this kid. The stage was dimmer when she wasn’t on it.
The rest of the cast bore up well, especially the other orphans and Grace Farrell. Miss Hannigan’s hair was delightfully menacing, and her villainous brother Rooster was easy to despise. Plus, there was an actor (he played Ickes, among others), who looked very much like Mr. Bean. But I found myself nostalgic for the good ol’ days when actors projected their voices rather than relying on microphones, because every time one of the actors stepped out of mic range, his or her dialogue was lost.
Note to casting director: Shemping* is dicey when you only have one or two people of color in the touring company. Any time my attention strayed from the plot, I amused myself playing “spot the African American cast member” with the ensemble.
The sets were pretty cool, especially for a touring production. The New York City street was especially vibrant. I don’t know what was going on in the Hooverville scene because I was too busy trying to figure out how the intricate bridge overpass was created. I also enjoyed noticing that the paintings hanging on the walls of the Oval Office and Warbucks Acres appeared to be computer-generated reproductions of the originals — and it occurs to me that maybe the overpass was, too.
Perhaps the best performance of the evening was given by my friend the GrassMaster. She had played Grace in a middle-school production of
Annie and loves the show, but she showed great restraint in not singing along out loud. Thanks for the ticket, Amy!
So there you have it. Thinking about a few of my favorite things — oops, wrong musical — has definitely warmed my heart, if not my hands. Now: time for lunch.
*
Shemping is a term popularized by actor and writer Bruce Campbell to describe the cost-cutting measure of having one actor play several roles. It’s named after Shemp, one of the Three Stooges, who often had to double or triple up on parts in their movies. Campbell and his friends did the same in their own low-budget flicks, and Mike Myers is famous for playing half the cast in the Austin Powers movies.
Labels: gripes
