Here Are The High School Plays! (Revisited)

To paraphrase what a traffic court judge once said to me, this blog has hair on it. Which is to say, it’s been around a while. When I began this blog on January 1, 2010, our kids were six and four. Now the younger one is entering his junior year at the University of Cincinnati, the elder just graduated with honors from my alma mater, Ohio University.

Seven years ago, I wrote a post about the kinds of plays being produced in American high schools. The elder (Zelda, I will name them, they are an adult now) a freshman in high school, was in their first evening of one-acts, which included Don Zolidis’s omnipresent 10 Ways to Survive the Zombie Apocalypse. Later that year, Zelda would play Poppy in a very good production of Noises Off.

One of my biggest regrets, if not theirs, was that they were cast as Celia in As You Like It their junior year, a production cancelled due to COVID-19. I hope to someday see them do Shakespeare.

Most plays chosen by high school drama departments, be they contemporary, classic or sometime in between, aren’t about high school students. I have been led to believe teens don’t want to play teens, they want to be something other than who they are. It is also true that many shows that have featured teenage characters feature poorly drawn teenage characters (I’m looking at you, Bye Bye Birdie.)

Recently, however, there have been several musicals that have broken through, due in part to their freshness and accuracy in addressing the concerns and interests of modern young people; musicals like The Prom, The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee and Ride the Cyclone. And in just the past few months, I have had the chance to take Zelda to see two recent plays that are very present and particular to the current moment.

The first was last spring’s Dobama Theatre production of Sarah DeLappe’s The Wolves, an 80 minute play about a competitive high school travel girl soccer team (I think I got those adjectives in the right order). I read it in 2020 and I loved it – as a soccer dad, I felt it rang with truth – and I thought, oh man! Zelda needs to read this! Then I thought again. They were in the thick of it, and this story might come as an unwelcome intrusion.

"The Wolves" by Sarah DeLappe
Directed by Nell Bang-Jensen
Philadelphia Theatre Co. (2020)

I did watch a production of The Wolves produced for Zoom in late 2020 by the Philadelphia Theater Company, which was surprisingly effective given the limitations of the technology. When Dobama announced their production, I thought, perfect! I can now take them to see that. It had been over four years since the quarantine-era match that took Heights out of the playoffs, and the flagrant foul that took our child, the keeper, out of the game.

So we attended the performance together. I was sure Z would be particularly drawn to the character of 00, the goalie for the Wolves, and in this production played by Jasmine Renee, who is also directing The Right Room for BorderLight this summer. Z said they loved the show, and also that they never need to see it again. I don’t know it, but I get it.

More recently, we saw John Proctor is the Villain on Broadway. The moment they went on sale we got tickets – I just had to take the family to see this show. And then I got very concerned. I loved the script, I also loved the Performing Arts Academy production two years ago, But … Broadway? Would it work? Would it be successful? Would the market bear a play about the very real concerns of people who were not yet adults?

The marketing campaign was interesting. I kept getting texts that were written (I guess) like an actual teenager was sending them. I forwarded one to the rest of the family and Zelda thought I’d been hacked.

Long story short, the production is not only successful but very successful, and nominated for seven Tony Awards. Having seen Oh, Mary! last fall, this is only the second time I have had the chance to see two Tony nominated shows before the awards drop – the first was two years ago when we saw Merrily We Roll Along and Purlie Victorious on the same weekend in late 2023.

The evening we attended John Proctor was a Tuesday night, and the place was packed. So many young people! So many young women! Attending a play! And they were rewarded, too, as the entire company who played the teenage characters signed everyone’s program at the stage door.

This is a fascinating time in American theater, where challenging new ideas are making their way onto professional stages across the nation. That the voices of young people are represented with honesty and accuracy, and in a way they have not been before. Will plays like The Wolves or John Proctor is the Villain supplant chestnuts like Twelve Angry Men or The Crucible on our high school stages? And would it be such a terrible thing if they did?

See also: 

Here Are The High School Plays! (2018)

Play a Day: John Proctor is the Villain

NYC NYE 2023 (part one)

Mural, American Airlines Theatre Penthouse Lounge

New Year’s is a big deal for us. Not that we have traditionally been extravagant at the turning of the calendar. In fact, we have been quite modest the past few years. Even before the pandemic, we chose to stay home, alone. We only ever need each other, anyway.

Auspicious subway find.

We met on the street the year we rang in the 90s, headed to the same gathering, and have spent every NYE together since, for better and for worse. And last year we decided we would go to New York, where we fell in love and shared so many early relationship memories. Omicron be damned, and it was awesome.

When I missed the American Repertory Theatre production of 1776 in Boston this summer due to health issues, and they announced a Broadway run, I suggested we do it again – spent NYE in NYC. Maybe this is going to be our New Year’s tradition, from here on out. We would both be very happy with that. My wife scored first class seats, and we enjoyed Bloody Marys and held hands at 10,000 feet.

The wife found us a sweet little Airbnb where Washington Heights meets Inwood, and just a short walk to Fort Tryon Park. The place had a really nice reclaimed wood aesthetic. We asked our contact where we could get lunch and she suggested Koko Seafood, a Dominican joint on Nagle.

The ghosts of Steve & Eydie
hath appeared to me —
at Sardi's once ...

The guy dropped two menus but he also suggested we could have whatever they already had prepared, so we said yeah, what do you have back there? She got the stewed chicken, I got the grilled chicken, we each got red beans and rice. We were made very, very happy.

It was such a good meal that, following a much-needed nap (I think I got four hours of sleep the night before) we decided to skip dinner and just get drinks somewhere in Times Square. She asked if I’d ever been to Sardi’s, I said that I had not. We enjoyed cocktails seated next to a festooned caricature of Steve Lawrence, which was only appropriate.

Then onto the American Airlines Theatre for the Roundabout production of 1776. Here’s the thing about 1776, the original score for this show (music and lyrics by Sherman Edwards, book by Peter Stone) is part of my earliest memories. My father enjoyed it a great deal, and why wouldn't he. A lively celebration of the origins of our nation, created in 1969, possibly the worst point in our history. The vinyl was on regular rotation in my house growing up, I still have it somewhere. And the 1972 film was a must-see whenever it came on the TV, usually around Independence Day.

Festive NYC streets.

However, it has not aged well, as it sands down the sins of “our forefathers'' even as it attempts to address them. Even Lin-Manuel Miranda did this in creating Hamilton, entirely omitting the fact that Alexander Hamilton himself was once a slaver.

In subsequent productions of 1776, in community theaters and colleges around the country, people of color and women have been cast as members of a company of historical figures who were all white men. After the success of Hamilton, I wondered how long it would take before someone attempted a diverse professional production. The A.R.T. production (produced on Broadway by the Roundabout Theatre) features an acting company composed entirely of people who identify as women or non-binary.

This has not been without controversy, which was to be expected. I loved the production, I really did. You could say it had been produced for me or someone exactly like me, a privileged, middle-aged, liberal, white person – and one who already enjoys the score. Attending a performance like this would naturally soothe my sensibilities, as it would ideally present an opportunity for those affected by these men's actions, but not present in their decision making, to interpret and hopefully to provide context for the founders limitations.

Sara Porkolob in "1776"
(Photo: Sara Krulwich)

Company member Sara Porkolob, who plays South Carolina Congressman Edward Rutledge, started a firestorm among the theater community last October in which they dared to answer questions about the production with candor and honesty. They did not agree with the suggestion that the production is artistically fulfilling – for them – and even more aggressive comments for saying they only give 75% to this show a night.

Much, much more interesting, however, are their comments about the frustration of being a multidisciplinary performance artist who takes a job as solely a performer in someone else’s work. The fact that, in their opinion, the show still does not go far enough in critiquing the so-called “American experiment." It is a rich and interesting interview with an amazing artist, and I strongly recommend reading the entire thing.

The best excuse for being controversial, however, is when you are also brilliant. The most emotionally disturbing song in the entire show, no matter where you are seeing it, and the only part of the show which comes even close to addressing the massive errors in the American experiment which are still with us today, is the the eleven o’clock number Molasses to Rum, led by Porkolob, for which they say they give 90% and which they entirely walk away with. If what I heard that night was 90% of what they have to offer, I am literally frightened to experience their talent at full bore. I hope that someday I will.

Photo: TRG Reality

My one personal regret was that I did not get to see Elizabeth A. Davis as Jefferson, though the family did last summer. We were in the company of The Merry Wives of Windsor at Great Lakes together in 2005 as she was completing her studies at Case, and she participated in an odd “Mr. Shakespeare” photo shoot in which we first recreate the famous V-J Day photograph and then I apparently drop her (right.)  Maintaining the role in Boston on then Broadway while visibly and increasingly pregnant over the course of the fall, Davis left the production as scheduled around Christmas.

After the show, my wife and I headed back to Inwood, and sat around our Airbnb in the nude enjoying wine and adobada-flavored potato chips.

To be continued.  

The Roundabout Theatre Company production of "1776" at the American Airlines Theater closes tomorrow, Sunday, January 8, 2023.

Source: Molasses To Rum: 1776’s Sara Porkalob Has Some Notes by Jason P. Frank, Vulture, 10/14/2022 

"Hadestown" at the Walter Kerr Theatre

Friday, October 22

“You almost got hit by a bike.” That became our running gag in New York City last weekend.

Maybe two years ago, my son asked to see Hadestown which was something of a surprise. He’s been attending the theater since he was three, but had never asked to see a specific show.

Apparently, he’d been following the process for many years, though he can’t remember why. It’s a well-reported story, the journey from song cycle to concept album, from Off-Broadway to the Walter Kerr Theater.

The tour was scheduled to be in Cleveland last spring, canceled due to COVID. For his sixteenth birthday, as I had for his older sibling, I offered him a weekend in New York, and one that hopefully included the show. When tickets went on sale, I got the very best seats; mezzanine, front row center. He likes being seated above the floor.

My wife finds the best places to stay, in this case a former “cold water flat” in the East Village, with a clawfoot tub in the living room and literally no closet space. I had to go outside to change my mind! Perfect for our needs, however.

When asked what else he’d like to do, he said he’d like to hear live jazz. Not a concert, a set at a club or something. Our first night, we stepped into a place in the West Village. The bouncer asked if he was over 21, and I said no.

The man shook his head. “It’s 21 and over.”

I told him the truth. I gestured at my son and said, “He’s just here for the music.”

He looked at us both for a moment and then waved us in. “He can’t drink,” he warned us, which I guess was obvious, but I decided it would be best if I also didn’t drink.

As I’m counting out the cover, the guy leaned in and rubbed me on the shoulder. “You having a good night?” he said. It was a sweet gesture, sympathetic. Dad taking his son to hear some music, you good? I love this city. 

There was a quartet, the leader was the keyboard player, a purveyor of bop. He was a well-experienced sideman, one who had even played with Benny Goodman in the early 1980s. We sat and listened to the first set, keys, drums and bass, the sax player arrived late. The boy was highly satisfied by the drummer.

We played pool and enjoyed the second set when they really began to rip. It was energetic and high. The clientele surprised me, a diverse though obviously well-funded selection of young Millennials drank and hooted and played pool and ping-pong while to one side a more intense and appreciative set sat in remaindered church pews and leaned into the jazz. I was not the only person of my age in attendance. 

The boy would have liked to see them take it further, but after the second break we agreed it was best to call it a night. I touched the bouncer’s elbow on the way out. "Thanks, man."

The extent to which restaurants and cafés have moved onto the sidewalks and into the streets is remarkable. This is the case everywhere, but the street we were starting on is lined with restaurants, and their exterior dining areas took up the majority of available parking spaces.

At night they are lit up and magical. Most have been constructed, but there were also prefab plastic sheds like you’d get at a hardware store which also looked quite cozy.

Eva Noblezada as Eurydice
"Hadestown"
(Walter Kerr Theatre, 2021)

Saturday, October 23

We made a plan to run in Central Park. It was cool and overcast and threatened to rain, and we took the train to save all our steps for the park. Together we ran ten miles, and I was overwhelmed but grateful. We spent the afternoon eating, resting and eating.

And then we departed for Hadestown.

I knew little about this show. I knew there were people who thought it was weird, and also that it had won many awards. I knew about André De Shields, and Reeve “Spider-Man” Carney. I knew it was based on the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice.

I heard it was weird, that people were surprised it made it to Broadway. And I found it more beautiful and engaging than I expected. It’s one of the few musicals that has truly touched me in a long time.

And it was the first musical I have seen since the pandemic. Yes, we had our vaccination cards at the ready. Yes, we all kept our masks on, the entire audience. This very weekend Peter Marks (Washington Post) tweeted that London audiences are outright ignoring requests to wear masks.

There is a lot of silence in the play. Shockingly, not one cell phone went off all night. Can you imagine? During the song “Livin' It Up on Top,” a roaring ensemble number, Orpheus is asked to give a toast, and he and the company lift their tin cups to each other. The music breaks and he says:

“To the world we dream about, and …”

Then, cups raised, they turn to the audience, and look at us, wearing our masks.

“... the one we live in now.”

Hold. Silence. It was startling.

There were folks sitting behind us, at least one of them was familiar with the music, and had their opinions about the understudies, but my son and I agreed the woman playing Persephone was just wonderful.

The guy who originated the role of Hades Off-Broadway is engaged For another couple weeks, but they got Tom Hewitt who is a storied performer and it seemed like he was doing a spot on impersonation of the originator. It was intense.

The other three leads were played by the people who were brought on for the Broadway production. I was unfamiliar with Eva Noblezada (Eurydice) but she was heartbreaking.

Reeve Carney is far more fascinating to watch and listen to than I thought he would be. You ask yourself, how does someone perform Orpheus? How do you sell that his singing would make the devil cry? And yet, he does.

And André De Shields was the André De Shields. I have seen performances headlined by a brilliant star (Hamlet with Ralph Fiennes at the Belasco comes to mind) where I am ultimately disappointed by the production as a whole. And this is an ensemble work that is greater than the sum of its parts. Having said all this, that the storyteller is such a magisterial and accomplished performer, and that I had the blessed opportunity to see him … I do not seek out these moments. I am only so grateful when I experience them.

I was awake for a couple hours in the middle of the night, early Monday morning. So I decided to read the reviews, to learn a little more about the process. Apparently, somewhere along the line, someone told composer Anaïs Mitchell that beautiful music is beautiful, but you can’t assume the audience knows what you’re thinking. Let them in.

Sunday, October 24

Oh it is truly strange how magical the street looked at night, and how mundane it appeared in the morning. There’s a metaphor in there somewhere about a one-night stand but I’ll leave that to someone younger.

Sunday was casual, we rose late and attended a “jazz brunch” at a nearby hotel. One thing I have always loved about NYC are all the close, cozy spaces. This is not necessarily a good thing during a global pandemic, but we showed our vaccination cards and ducked into our table, right next to the drummer.

It was cool, early afternoon of standards and originals, a trio with keys, bass and drums, led by a female vocalist.While this type of jazz is not our son’s favorite thing, he respected their skill, and it stood in contrast to Friday night’s musical frenzy. It was a lovely set, and a sweet close to a very special weekend.

Into The Woods (musical)

 
ONCE UPON A TIME … Ohio University was on a quarter schedule and the college more or less shut down between Thanksgiving an New Year’s. Six weeks to work, lie about, or travel.

December 1990 the school of theater arranged a trip for England which included tours and shows in London, followed by several days of workshops and shows in Stratford-Upon-Avon with members of the Royal Shakespeare Company.


Our first night in we had reservations for some West End show, reservations which we lost for some reason, and our ticket broker gave the tour a choice of two alternatives - Man of the Moment by Alan Ayckbourn, or the original London production of Stephen Sondheim’s Into the Woods.

Ayckbourn’s work I was familiar with, and enjoyed. Of Sondheim, I knew nothing. If you do not count West Side Story, I had never seen or heard any of his work. Please forgive me, I was only 22, and by the age of 22 I had pretty much lost interest in musical theater entirely.

And yet, I chose to see that, in large part because like everyone else in the company I was suffering from jet lag, having been awake for over 24 hours straight. I thought a musical would more successfully keep me awake.

Nigel Planer as Neil in "The Young Ones"

 Note: I missed the chance to see Nigel Planer live onstage in "Man of the Moment", though I did eventually see him in "Feelgood" (for better or worse) ten or so years later.

Into the Woods in its original London production was very odd. The New York premiere (1987) featured legit Broadway talent such as Bernadette Peters and Joanna Gleason. In the West End the cast was composed of several famous television personalities, like presenter Nicholas Parsons as the Narrator and Julia McKenzie as the Witch who, though an experienced stage performer (and recognizable as today’s version of TV’s Miss Marple) did not look much changed when stripped of her witchy old-age make-up.

Yes, I am ashamed to have written that. But there it is.

Just appearing on stage these actors received applause. The problem was (and the soundtrack recording gives proof of this) many of them could not sing.

However, I did find the music infectious, as Sondheim’s work invariably is (“There's not a tune you can hum.” my ass.) It was colorful and interesting, and very funny. All these folk tales wrapped up rather neatly, and the title song reprise made it clear, after almost ninety minutes and no intermission, that the show was over. Except for the Narrator adding To Be Continued and the lack of any curtain call.

As you know, if you are familiar with the work, “Happy ever after!” is not how the show ends, and I soon discovered there was, in fact, a second act. This second part was confusing, disorienting, ill befalling absolutely everyone, their mistakes magnified. I did not understand the point of this second act, which I felt was maudlin, mawkish, somnambulant (literally so, I pinched the soft parts of my own hands very painfully to stay awake) and a tale or two too far.

But it kept with me. Later, I got the Broadway cast recording, still later the West End disc (Rapunzel’s Prince has the most bizarre accent) and even recorded the Great Performances production onto VHS, which I still have.

Listening to the albums I grew to appreciate the emotional ambiguity of the second act. Also, on Mandy Patinkin’s eponymous album (1989) he does a heart-wrenching cover of No More.

Tom Ford and Jodi Dominick (center) as the Baker and his wife.

In 2008, Great Lakes Theater inaugurated the “Re-Imagined” Hanna Theatre with a repertory of Macbeth and Into the Woods. I had children of my own by then, aged 5 and 3, and already they enjoyed love theater. We brought them to opening night, but left at intermission - by design. I felt the ending was too upsetting from a child. All the characters they loved were made unhappy (or always were) some would be killed, and horribly, the songs more complicated about complicated, adult issues. There would be a time for such challenging stuff, but not yet.

“Stay a child while you can be a child.”

The Great Lakes production was excellent (the Wall Street Journal called it a “tour de force”) introducing CLE audiences to performers who would develop long-standing relationships with the company (Jodi Dominick as the Baker’s Wife stands out in my memory) and gorgeous turns by returning actors whose work at GLT are becoming legendary (Tom Ford who played the Baker would go on to create a truly bizarre Sweeney Todd at the Hanna as well as a show stealing Monsieur Thénardier in this season’s record-breaking Les Miz).

It was disappointing to know my kids would only receive half of this particular production, and never have the opportunity to see the entire thing. I didn’t see the entire GLT production myself until it was almost closed.

Isn't it nice to know a lot?

Fall 2008 I had used vacation time to canvas in Beachwood, convincing elderly voters that Obama was not, in fact, a Muslim. The day before Election Day, I walked about neighborhoods in Euclid, encouraging likely voters to get out and vote. It looked as though every other house in what was otherwise a well-kept neighborhood was for sale, foreclosed, or abandoned.

November 4, Election Day itself, I was an emotional wreck, despondent in my fear that someone as willfully uneducated as Sarah Palin could attain high office, and demoralized by the fear-mongering and purely racist rumors. The economy was in free-fall that warm, bright fall day, and I did not know what kind of world these children would be left.

I could not even think that day, so I attended a student matinee of Into the Woods.

The second act clicked into place for me. The path from The Last Midnight to No More to No One Is Alone was a map of the psyche of a doubt-ridden parent. I sat in the front row on the balcony (there were fortunately no students in the balcony that morning) and tears, many tears, streamed down my face.

I’ll just come out and say it, Into the Woods doesn’t make sense if you have never had children. Tell me I’m wrong, that’s fine. Sondheim doesn’t have children. My argument can’t be substantiated.

However, just today on Facebook, colleagues far and wide, in speculating upon their decision to attend a showing of the new Disney film adaptation, have remarked upon the original version’s “eeeeendless, repetitive second act” (thank you for that, Henson.) Those who have shared this opinion, within my sphere, are uniformly child-free.

Conversely, my wife says she was always emotionally affected by the entirety of Into the Woods, even before having children. I would argue this is because she has very troubling issues relating to her father. I was never introspective about about my relationship to my own parents, my father was just this guy. I thought myself a solitary man, until the impending birth of and subsequent loss of my first child, a son.

So, allow me to rephrase my original statement … Into the Woods didn’t make sense to me until I had children.

For Christmas we went to see this new film adaptation, which was very enjoyable and arguably the most successful adaptation of a musical from stage to screen ever made. That that is a very low bar to hurdle does not render my praise in any manner faint.

TO BE CONTINUED!

Song of Spider-Man (book)

The first thing you notice, opening the book Song of Spider-Man: The Inside Story of the Most Controversial Musical In Broadway History, is a black and white photograph of several famous people. Bono, the Edge, Julie Taymor (if you are the kind of person who knows who she is) and then ... who the hell is that guy? Tall, awkward, bespectacled, in a frumpy suit jacket and jeans, totally out of place with these arbiters of cool.

That would be Glen Berger, the playwright. Or in musical parlance, the book writer, or because when this picture was taken, the show still belonged to Taymor, he was to co-book writer. He is also the author of the book, and stumbles his way through through six years of Broadway history, a sympathetic enough character, except he left me wondering where beneath spineless dithering lay the cunning professional who managed to surf the corpses to this production's eventual conclusion.

I never cared about Spider-Man: Turn Off The Dark one way or another. One CLE theater colleague and Facebook friend (you know who you are, Moritz) was obsessed by this production, recounting every misstep which for a time seemed to be daily. I do believe his concern was for the health and well-being of his fellow Equity performers ... but there was a lot of internet glee had at the show's expense. Whatever. Lots of Broadway shows are terrible, I didn't feel the price-tag could necessarily have made it any worse.

During FringeNYC last summer our stage manager Diana went to see Turn Off The Dark with her family, and said it was the greatest theatrical experience she had ever seen. No exaggeration, that's what she said, she was over the moon about that show. I had my doubts, but I didn't see it, did I? It is like Ishtar, most people who mock it haven't seen that, either.

But I did rip through this book pretty fast. Maybe that is because Berger writes for a lot of PBS children's programming. There is a major plot hole, however, about a quarter of the way through, where what seems like an ordinary, large-scale Broadway production goes from an exciting project, entirely on-track, to suddenly a media-hounded piece of garbage, hæmorrhaging cash. Like, somewhere between the end of one chapter and the beginning of another, this just happens. This is long before the injuries start.

For a lark, I checked out the soundtrack from the library. I was curious. And most of it is really good -- which is even more surprising when you know I find U2 to be kind of irritating. But the song Rise Above actually got me a little choked up. Boy Falls From the Sky was also quite affecting. And Pull The Trigger is kind of ... fun-kay.

I wish I had gone to see this show.

Red (play)

RED by John Logan at the Golden Theatre

SPOILER ALERT
Chronicling two years in the life of abstract expressionist Mark Rothko and the continuing discussion about the meaning and/or uses of art with his assistant, a young man named Ken. Two actors, one set, 90 minutes, a lot of very large black and red paintings and an awful lot of chewed scenery. Did your local playhouse produce Art ten years ago? They have already put Red into next year's season and the rights aren't available yet.

I did enjoy Alfred Molina, a lot. Looking for a cheap place to eat off Times Square, I passed him walking toward the theater around noon. He was wearing shorts, on his way to work.

The major crisis is this play, the conflict, is within Rothko himself. Ken gets a little, troubled backstory, but he's not really a character, rather a sounding board for the famous person. Rothko has been commissioned to paint four enormous murals for a new restaurant in the recently built Seagram's Building. The restaurant in question is named The Four Seasons.

Much is made of people in relationship to art. Even from the very beginning, when Rothko is ordering the young man, who has just met, to stand here, or there, in relation to his latest work, pressing him to lean in, get close, make the canvas take up your entire peripheral vision. Light changes the painting. It is meant to pulse. If there is no viewer, does the painting still exist the way it was intended to exist? Is it still what it is?

Much is also made of philistines of all stripes. Those who want art that will match the place settings. Art that will fit over the mantle. Art that is valuable, that will become valuable. Or art that is like that other more famous art ... but less expensive. And those with the very deep pockets who will ask a notable painter at the height of his game to create murals for an expensive restaurant so people can eat and talk loudly and ignore it.

There is also the question of whether art must be serious to be meaningful (see: the dawn of Pop Art.) Or whether it is justifiable, in the act of taking pay from one you deem unworthy, that your creation is really in it's own way saying "fuck you" to the buyer, the audience, to everyone.

Now. Let us apply these questions to my experience this afternoon. On Broadway. Between the revival of Hair and the five thousandth matinee of The Lion King. The streets near Times Square jostling with confused a sun blind tourists, some of whom bought a ticket to see this afternoon's performance of a play they hadn't heard of before it won the Tony for Best Play just a few weeks ago. And it closes tomorrow!

The audience I shared this experience with was not offended by the main character's disdain for arts snobs - this is America, all Americans hate snobs! They all thought the descriptions of art-buying cretins were hilarious. People spending lots of money for artwork they cannot understand and do not appreciate.

By my count, I heard seven cellphones ring during this ninety minute performance. Those were the ones loud enough to be heard. It is no longer a matter of an actor worrying if a cellphone will go off during today's performance, but when and how many times.

Once it was at a seriously emotional high point, and Molina went on a rampage at the other actor, Eddie Redmayne. It was hard not to imagine this outburst was taken to a new level by the interruption. But then people around me were whispering loudly, shocked that someone would leave their cellphone on during a performance.

Or whisper loudly during a performance.

Is a painting relevant when it is necessary for the viewer to understand it? Is a play relevant when, for all of its treatises about the meaning and uses of art, it is itself an overpriced commodity, sold to an audience that wants it to fit neatly between a trip to Madame Tussaud's and dinner at Planet Hollywood?