September 28 – Day 22: Who Needs Pants When You Can See a Performance Like That?

Something that was mentioned in passing at rehearsal kind of gave me pause. Even though I know from looking at my dashboard that people are, if not reading these, at least are clicking on them, it tends to make me self-conscious that I have an audience of some kind. (That that audience is international makes no sense to me. The U.S. I get, but [according to Google], I have page views from Czechia, Germany, India, Spain, the UAE, Brazil, Canada, Ukraine, and “Unknown Region” [which, I suppose, could be the extreme west side of midtown].)

Anyway, with that in mind, let me plunge in to Friday. Since we bid a fond adieu to the 29^th Street studios on Thursday, we were back in the bar for a farewell session there. We had a staggered call, which meant that not everyone was called the whole rehearsal. Things began with Gabriel (or “GG,” as I guess he’s going to be called) being called first for some solo work. Since he plays Howard W. Campbell, Jr., he’s got the heaviest line- and workload, in that he narrates the show and is in every scene. I was called at 12:30 to do some scenework on my first scene with him.

As I’ve mentioned numerous times, I’m unique in the cast in having done the show already. Part of that process was learning how to play the scenes— what got laughs, what didn’t, what seemed to work, what I couldn’t get to work—so I felt like I had a pretty good handle on what to do. Brian had talked a little about doing some different things with the performance this time, but since I had felt it had gone pretty well, I was a little leery about why he wanted to work the scene and what changes he had in mind.

We went over it a few times, and I have to say I think it’s better for the work. GG and I have a better connection now, and there’s a little more depth to the scene. It wasn’t bad last time, but now it’s less about a guy with an accent, a pipe, and terrible posture; there’s more of a character there, so I’m glad we scheduled the work.

Most of the rest of the afternoon was devoted to coordinating the ensemble sections. Those scenes (and a lot of Act Two) haven’t been getting as much love as they might have, so it was time to dig into those. I’m not involved with some of those, so I spent a good portion of the afternoon in an easy chair, occasionally dozing—and letting my neck get really sore from being at a bad angle while doing it.

Some time toward the end of the day, I noticed a slight tear in my jeans; up where the left rear pocket meets the seat, it’s pulling away. These pants are not that old, but so far I’ve had a belt loop come loose, and now this. I blame American workmanship, though I have no idea where these pants were made. No matter; I think I’m done buying Lee jeans at JC Penney. Despite that decision, I decided I’d walk down to the Penney’s on 32^nd to buy a new pair of pants, a choice which soon morphed into a decision to go to Macy’s instead. I’ve always enjoyed shopping there (I mean, come on; those wooden escalators?), but have never bought anything. Here was the perfect opportunity. Since I was walking, I’d also have the opportunity to stop off at 59E59 and pick up a bunch of postcards. Not that I’m going to mail them; I just want to be able to distribute them when people inevitably ask me why I’m visiting the city.

As I left 59, I got the idea that maybe I should try to see The Band’s Visit (which had so moved me the first time) again, in order to catch Katrina Lenk’s Tony-winning performance. With that in mind, leaving the theatre, I went west on 59^th and ended up heading south on Fifth Avenue before realizing I was only a couple of blocks from the Heart of Darkness on 57^th and 5^th, so I got over to Sixth as soon as possible. There were plenty of cops around, but I don’t know if that’s standard procedure or if Evil Incarnate himself is still in town.

I reached the Ethel Barrymore Theatre, where The Band’s Visit is playing, checked the cast listing in the lobby, and saw that the only substitute was for the role of Papi. Unfortunately, my line karma struck again, as a woman who had just purchased tickets asked if she could return them for a different date. The box office guy said sure, and she pulled out a massive Kavanaugh-like calendar, looking at it for a moment before calling her husband over, because his having a meeting on the day for which they’d bought the tickets was the problem. After asking about a couple of alternate dates (“What about the Monday before Thanksgiving?” “The show is dark on Mondays, ma’am.”), the husband agreed to forgo his meeting and to try to find someone who could use the third ticket.

They finally left, and when I got to the window, I asked if Katrina Lenk was going to be in the show that night. The salesman said that, if she was going to be out, he hadn’t heard anything. I mentioned that she’d been out the first time I saw the show a few weeks ago. He asked when that was, and I told him. He replied that she’d been on vacation that week. With all that taken care of, I asked if he had a single for tonight. He did—row C in the orchestra, house left. I thought about it and said I’d get back to him. I checked the TKTS app and saw they were selling seats for the show, so I thought that if I could get a reasonable seat there (for 30% off), I’d do that. I walked the half-block to the booth in Times Square, and got in a surprisingly-short line.

I was directed to Window 4, where (guess what?) I was in back of two women who came all the way from Ireland to complete a complicated transaction. They were buying tickets for (I think) Kinky Boots (because, of course) and, after being quoted a price, complained that they’d seen an online offer for a lower price. The guy behind the window vanished for some time and finally came back to tell them they were right and that the tickets were indeed cheaper. They then asked (I think) where the seats were, which prompted another disappearance while the guy consulted with other people in the booth. He eventually came back with a printout of some kind (rather than the usual freshly-printed tickets) and had to explain to the women how to present this printout at the theatre. They left and it was finally my turn to go to the window. I asked the guy if he had any singles for The Band’s Visit, and he gave me look that was somewhere between “Are you serious?” and “Why not just ask for Hamilton, dimwit?” He checked, though, and after a moment said, “There’s one, but it’s partial view. It’s a terrible seat.” I thanked him and said I’d pass.

 I was hoping Sam and Dede would be on the board last year, but we weren't.

I walked back to the theatre, was able to go right up to the window, asked if the seat was still available (“It should be”), and bought it. The hunt for pants was postponed, and now I had just over an hour to kill before the house opened. I toyed with the possibility of walking down to Macy’s anyway, but decided against it, thinking I would just end up rushing, so I might as well get some dinner. Since I was on 47^th and Joe Allen’s was only a block away (and I hadn’t been there yet on this trip), off I went.

I arrived, knowing that pre-theatre is a busy time, and asked for a bar seat. There was one available, so I bellied up, ordered a Manhattan, then topped that off with a green salad and the largest slice of banana cream pie I’ve ever seen. Joe Allen’s and I have a long relationship. The first time I ever went there was in 1977. I went solo for Sunday brunch, and after a long, long wait, was finally seated. The waiter took a long time to take my order, a longer time to bring the food (scrambled eggs and bacon?), and an even longer time to bring the check. As far as I know, he never even brought it, since I left after waiting 20 minutes for it. It’s good, honest food and a nice atmosphere, but is as overpriced as one might expect a restaurant near the theatre district to be. In the olden days, it wasn’t unusual to actors there after a show, but I haven’t seen anyone there in years.

 The actual meal wasn't quite this blurry.

By the time I finished, it was also time to head back to the theatre, so I left (and, yes, I paid) and got in line, had my bag checked, and went up to the auditorium for the show.

 Not the same image as last time.

The performance turned out to be a real lesson in how much star power an individual can bring to a part, and how a really good actor can keep a performance fresh. It hadn’t been that long since I’d seen the show, so I was able to concentrate less on plot and lyrics and more on performance, and Lenk was remarkable, fully investing each of her songs with a lived-in depth and artistry. In a scene with Sasson Gabai late in the play—a scene she must have done close to 500 times by now—not only did she tear up, but she also displayed a spontaneity and an ability to listen (or, at least, to simulate those qualities) that I found enviable. It’s a marvelous show, regardless, but was made all the richer by her performance. (The understudy I saw—Madison Micucci—in comparison, was very, very good, but it was one of those performances by a very good actor and singer in a role that really requires a star.) I don’t know if Lenk and Gabai have any personal chemistry, but they were riveting together on stage. Micucci tried, but I accepted their chemistry as more of the play’s given circumstances than anything demonstrated onstage. Overall, I was delighted I had gone and, as much as I enjoyed and thought of it before, the second viewing only increased those feelings. I think it’s my new second-favorite musical.

I was kind of reeling after the performance, and wasn’t especially hungry, so I decided to walk home and let it dissipate. (Suffice it to say, neither heat nor humidity were a factor Friday, so it was quite pleasant to be out.) Nothing of note happened on the way, so I arrived home, watched the end of the Dodger victory over the Giants, had a snack, and went to bed.