This past Sunday I was the world's luckiest duckie, in that a friend of mine (who is serving on the Drama Desk Nominating Committee) generously invited me to see Anything Goes at the Sondheim Theatre on Broadway.
Sutton Foster as the leading lady, Reno Sweeney; Joel Grey as Moonface Martin; Jessica Walter as Mrs. Evangeline Harcourt [that's the MOM FROM ARRESTED DEVELOPMENT and so what if I freaked out and waved my arms around when she came on stage].
Pure. Unbridled. Joy. This show is everything Broadway can and should be. Elegant hair, the flash of sequins, killer legs, company tap-dance, classic tunes, puns, slapstick. The title number was so full of life, energy, joy, talent that I found myself beaming and wiping tears from my eyes.
Click the image for video from the show!
I was suddenly reminded of the days as a little girl when I would sing out my bedroom window, pretending I was Lauri (Oklahoma!) or Dorothy (The Wizard of Oz). How my conveniently removable bed knob routinely became a microphone and I was The Great American Hero. In middle school, how many hours I spent at the piano, singing Rogers & Hart, Cole Porter, and Duke Ellington tunes from Sheet Music magazine. Then, in my early teens, Miss Saigon and Les Miserables and Showboat and Porgy & Bess and Phantom of the Opera.
All of this I'd completely forgotten! Something happened in my adult life (late high-school? college?) where it seemed the closer I was to a stage, the less I believed myself to be fit for it. Kind of a barrier to the whole I-love-to-sing-and-dance-more-than-anything-else-on-earth thing.
But I've experienced a rapid burst forward in this area over the past two weeks --- remote controls (and even microphones themselves!) becoming microphones, spontaneous outbursts of karaoke, dancing in the living room, losing track of entire evenings singing in the basement --- and Sutton Foster's legs reminded me of the joy an entertainer can bring by allowing herself to shine on stage.
My deep gladness and the world's deep hunger. I get it. Yes, I'll do that. I'm ready. Sign me up.
I used to dance with my sister to a cassette tape called "Hit Explosion". It played on a wonderful 3-inch thick, gray boombox with one speaker and a black handle. The play button ith the red record button embedded was on top alongside the rest of the buttons. We would dance like CRAZY... in our bedrooms, in the rooms my parents were remodeling, in the backyard, and on the driveway in our roller skates.
ReplyDeleteAnd this past weekend, I went to a wedding and didn't dance at all. Music played for three hours. And I didn't dance. I blame my dress for being too tight.
This is sad.