Broadway Musicals

Well, obviously I never got a chance to write yesterday.

So, CanadaGirl and I went to see Bloomer Girl last night at City Center on West 55th Street. The show was part of City Center’s Encores! program. This program, which was created about seven years ago, revives older, little-known musicals in a concert format (this show was from 1944); the orchestra (which is called the Coffee Club Orchestra — I love that name) is onstage, and there are minimal sets and costumes. The men wear tuxes. The cast rehearses for less than two weeks, and they carry their scripts with them around the stage, but the performance I saw didn’t at all seem thrown together. And there was lots of choreography. The singing was terrific, and the acting was great, too; all this, and they do only five performances. They revive three shows a season.

I hadn’t seen a musical since last April, when my mom and I saw the current revival of “The Music Man.” I’d forgotten how much I enjoy musicals. But I don’t enjoy all of them. With some exceptions, I don’t really go for most of the big Disneyfied spectacles with bombastic singing, the things that attract tourists and 13-year-old teenage girls. (Sorry, Ruth! :) I don’t mean you.) I tend to prefer a show with catchy music, with some wit and charm and heart. And actually, if I haven’t seen a show, I usually find the music really cheesy; it’s only if I’ve seen a show, where I experience the music in context, that I enjoy it. Otherwise I find it annoying. I guess I don’t like musicals in the abstract, but only in the particular.

Or maybe I really do like musicals after all, and I’m just being insecure in my homosexuality. Heck, when I was in high school, acting was my main extracurricular activity, even though I was a complete ham. I’ve always enjoyed going to the theater, and I took a one-year playwriting course in college. I got my love of theater from my mom, who has a big collection of Playbills going back to the 1960’s. She sees everything she can.

Anyway, these two nights of theater — the Metropolitan Opera, and a good old-fashioned musical — have reminded me how much great stuff there is to do in New York, and how little I’ve taken advantage of it lately. So from now on, I plan to do more of it, as much as my wallet will allow.

As for last night, I had dinner with my friend Nick (not his real name, of course) at a Mexican restaurant in Chelsea called Mary Ann’s. There’s nothing like hearty, cheap Mexican food with a Corona and a big free bowl of chips and salsa. From there, we went over to the East Village and had a couple of beers at the Phoenix. Then Nick went home, and I met up with some people at Wonderbar. This was my first time out at the bars in a while; the last three weekends I’d basically hibernated in whatever homes I’d been housesitting. I had a better time at the Phoenix, sitting at the bar with Nick, than at Wonderbar, which was jam-packed as usual. The Phoenix is so non-gay-bar-ish; it looks like a straight rural bar somewhere in Kentucky. Jukeboxes, an arcade game, a pool table, no attitude. It was great. Sometimes the crowded flashy gay bar scene just gets old.

Today I might go apartment-hunting in Park Slope, and then in the evening, I’m meeting Penn for dinner. Yup, him. Last week I decided, what the hell, and I gave him a call. I think we’re having sushi. On him.