Monday morning, Amber and I roamed about a rainy New York City, visiting a few places and folks for whom I've occasionally worked. The only one that might interest you was the offices of MAD Magazine, where I talked with its outgoing editor, John Ficarra. He and his most capable staff (i.e., "Gang of Idiots") have only a few more issues to get off to press before that office closes. Then, control of America's greatest humor publication shifts to offices in Burbank where a mostly-new team is already staffing-up. Before that day arrives, I will write a long post here about what it all may mean.
I will also remind you that MAD may have no greater fan than me and that I think the issues edited by John and his staff (including Charlie Kadua, Joe Raiola, Dave Croatto, Jacob Lambert, Sam Viviano, Ryan Flanders and Patricia Dwyer) have done the publication proud. If you haven't been reading it, lo this last decade or two, you've missed some really sharp satire.
We made it over to a party at the home of my friends Jim Brochu and and Steve Schalchlin. Jim is an actor-author-director-whatever I've known for a long time…an amazing guy who knows everyone in the theatrical community. We could only stay so long at their bash but in the time we were there, I got to talk to Anita Gillette, Charlotte Rae, Joyce Van Patten and Jerry Stiller. Talked about What's My Line? (and seeing her on Broadway) with Anita. Talked about the Li'l Abner Broadway show (she was the first Mammy Yokum) with Charlotte. Talked about The Good Guys (a favored 1968 sitcom she was in) with Joyce. And just talked with Jerry about him being a magnificent comic actor — a fact he denied but he was wrong and I was right.
Other folks of that theatrical caliber were drifting in as we had to head out. Amber's way younger than I am so she didn't know who a lot of those people were but she found them all fascinating and somewhat regretted, as I did, that we had theater tickets for that evening and had to go. What we had to go to was…
I'm not a huge fan of the Roald Dahl's book Charlie and the Chocolate Factory or the film version with Gene Wilder (didn't see the other one) but Amber is so I got tickets to the new musical version. I was hopeful because so many folks said Christian Borle was superb in the role of Willy Wonka…and they were right. He is. I also am a huge fan of Marc Shaiman's music, though I think I like everything else I've heard by him more than I like the new songs in this version.
Along with Mr. Borle's performance, I liked the sets and the art direction and the special effects and John Rubinstein as Grandpa Joe. One of my favorite comic actresses, Jackie Hoffman, was delightfully sour as Mrs. Teavee and the whole cast was genuinely energetic and fine. But it's still a story that doesn't have a whole lot of resonance or internal logic to me. In no version I've read or seen do I get why the cryptic Mr. Wonka acts as he does or why anyone seems only moderately annoyed when children are maimed or killed. But then even back when I ate candy, I didn't orgasm over the whole idea of it so maybe this is just not the story for me.
I will say this for the show: Most of the audience loved it. The overwhelming majority of those in the Lunt-Fontanne Theater were kids or had brought one or more kids and it's probably the perfect show via which to introduce a lad or lass to musical theater. But it just didn't come together for me and Amber was also somewhat disappointed in this, the last show we caught in New York. We both thought Sweeney Todd was by far the theatrical high-point of our theatergoing.
Which brings us to Tuesday. Not much to report about Tuesday. We checked out of our hotel, checked our bags, roamed New York, ate lunch, went back to the hotel, got our bags, took a limo to the airport and flew home. Did I mention how much I love JetBlue? Yeah, I guess I did. Some Notes To Self for this trip…
Staying in a hotel in the heart of Times Square these days means wading through swarms of touristy-type enterprises. We couldn't get from our room to anywhere without a dozen people thrusting offers at us.
Then again, I'd forgotten one advantage of that location: You can get darn near anywhere from Times Square if you know the subway system since so many trains converge on Times Square.
Then again, I have to remember to brush up on the subway system before the next time I go. It had been nine years since I'd been in New York and I don't think I went on the subway the last few visits before that gap. I did discover though that the Yelp! app on my iPhone was real handy for telling me which train to take and when to hop off.
New York drinking water isn't as tasty as I recalled and I switched over to the bottled stuff.
And I'd forgotten how it's impossible to go anywhere without going up and down stairs — an issue of some consequence since my knee replacement.
And why is it that every single corner has a Walgreens Drug Store or a Duane Reade and it's three stories and what I need is on the third floor and both the escalators and elevators are out of order?
And lastly: For the first time in New York since I was a tot, I got in and out without setting foot in a delicatessen. The Carnegie is an empty storefront. The Stage is now another, non-deli restaurant with "Stage" in its name. I didn't get to my favorite restaurant (Peter Luger's out in Brooklyn) and I didn't get to my favorite restaurant in the Seafood division (The Oyster Bar in Grand Central Station)…and I can live with those omissions. But minus the Stage or the Carnegie, it almost doesn't feel like we went to New York. I should've found a way to get us to Katz's. Next time for sure.