Ticket for One, Please

I'm not a gay man, a cheesy tourist, or a granny from middle America.

But, I must confess, I do love me some musical theater. In honor of last night's American Idol, where the theme was the music of Andrew Llloyd Weber, I figured that musical theater was as good of a topic as any. And, frankly, I was flat empty on other more intriguing ideas today.

My old roommate Jill and I used to go a lot, and even had season tickets for one grand year of Broadway in Chicago. I'll avoid telling you during how many shows she fell asleep. But I will say that I'm still baffled by how one can conk out to a full snooze right in the middle of the French Revolution. It was tres (Les) Miserables, I assure you. Overall, we loved being a part of the classic culture of Chicago.

Anyway, I have seen many, many shows, and was impressed by them all. For most of them, I now own the soundtrack and when no one is looking (or the windows aren't down in the car), I belt out the tunes as if I were the one on stage. My key takeaway for each is also included, for your memory lane reading pleasure:

Les Miserables—first show ever, at age 13, with Jenny and her dad at the Fox Theater in Atlanta; we were all dressed up and felt very special. Black velvet, a hair bow and tights have never meant more. Doesn't mean we looked that good, but the lovely strawberries in our pre-show sparkling cider may have led to a life of drinking. I blame Mr. Goff.

The King and I—one of the many shows that my Mom took my sister and me to, cleverly using the half-off coupons from the local grocery store; our girls' night treats were exquisite, and I even liked the movie rendition.

Phantom of the Opera—the music makes me cry, and the candles/fog scene is outstanding, but the whole premise is just a tad bit strange, no? Or am I that vain to find it difficult to believe she'd fall in love with a creepy attic-crawling figure in a plastic half-mask?

Joseph and the Technicolor Dreamcoat—all I remember is the giant patchwork coat. I'm sure it is a good show, but I can't bet on it.

RENT—loved it loved it loved it. Heard on the radio in Atlanta that they were giving away the front few rows (part of the author's plan to gain attention from/audience members from younger, more broke generations), but when I got there, the lady sold out right in front of my face. My date felt bad, turned to a scalper, and paid a fortune. I really liked that move. Him, not so much, but seeing the show from the 10th row was killer.

The Lion King—expected furry costumed theme-park-style animals, and was pleasantly surprised at the artistry of it all. Seriously didn't expect that.

Jesus Christ Superstar—was a little offended. Maybe I was taking the whole "mock Jesus' crucifixion" a little too seriously?

Oliver—great show, but all I can think of is my mom playing Oliver when she was young in the school play. I think she was THAT skinny that she made a great orphan. Boy.

Miss Saigon—two words. Heli. Copter. I cried a lot in this show, both times I saw it. Beautiful story, great music, fantastic stage effects.

Hairspray—really great show. Where else can you see a can of ozone-killing aerosol so proudly celebrated?

Stomp!—who knew you could make music that sounds so great from a few garbage cans and a broom?

Mama Mia—fantastic, and was again really surprised. Yes, this is a pretty freaking cheesy storyline, but the tunes are great. ABBA forever!

Wicked—sat really close and the costumes blew me away. And all that green paint! Where can I get that for next year's St. Patrick's Day?

Chicago—the movie was so much better than the stage show, I'm afraid. Sorry, thespians. Except for the Cellblock Tango, which is great no matter where you see it.

The Producers—yes, it was good. I wasn't that blown away. Funny, strange, yes. Would ever see it again? Not a chance. Maybe I missed out by not seeing the original cast?

Urinetown—gross. Stupid. Forgettable. Do I sound like Simon Cowell?

Speaking of Simon, here was my absolute favorite (goose-bump) performance last night. I predict a David vs. David finale. Which would be fine by me...



The show must go on.