A coworker of mine was bemoaning the fact that his beautiful and talented girlfriend is appearing in a musical right now. He feels that, akin to drinking and driving, regardless of how gifted she is in both areas, one should never mix acting and singing. This combination creates, in his opinion, the “lowest form of art” which is “lower than pantomime.”
Years ago, my much beloved uncle Ed came in to NYC from CA and treated my cousin, my hubby and me to a world-class meal at the Four Seasons followed by an evening at the now-defunct Broadway musical Cats.
Say what you want about musicals in general, or even Cats in particular, we had a really unusual night. Why? Because the heavyset, middle-aged man seated directly behind me, who was flanked by two adoring women, sang along to every song. Yes, aloud. And his date(s) didn’t even seem to mind! One actually complimented him during intermission; she was amazed that he knew all of the lyrics. He shared with her (and me because I was eavesdropping) how a) he had seen the musical a million times and b) what made it so easy was that the lyrics were about cats. And who doesn’t love singing about cats?
Not to be outdone, during the climax of the big hit “Memory” at the close of the show, the man across the aisle from us opened a big bag of potato chips and began chomping away.
Apparently he shared Nathan’s views on this mode of artistic expression.
When the dawn comes
Tonight will be a memory too
And a new day will begin . . .
1 comment:
don't forget the guy a couple rows in front who didn't understand the plot . . .
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