Last night, I laughed so hard in a theatre that I had tears in my eyes.
That doesn't happen to me too often.
I tend to cry (a lot) when things get sentimental and sappy (I needed a towel after seeing Little Women with Sutton Foster. Beth's death will forever destroy me, no matter what the form that freaking story is told in.)
I burst into tears at the end of Thoroughly Modern Millie and cried during the closing number of The Drowsy Chaperone because I just related to that old man in the chair that loved musicals as much as I did. Both of these shows were feel-good comedies and still managed to make me weep...but not the "I'm laughing so hard my eyes are wet" way.
I almost laughed to the verge of tears at In My Life...(but I had to fight it, because I had a front row center rush seat and I was the only person in the entire row. It would have made the performers feel bad if they saw me crying through my laughter, because the show wasn't supposed to be funny. It was about a guy with Tourette's syndrome who falls in love with a girl with OCD...his mom and sister were killed in a car accident and watch over him and sing from Heaven...and his angel little sister twirls around in a tutu and sings about her cat named Yoda. It was brilliant. Actually, when I was buying my ticket for that performance, somebody stopped me and asked if I was IN the show, and said that I looked like I should be. I am still wondering if meant that I looked like I had Tourette's syndrome, or that I looked like I had OCD. One of the two. Hmm.)
Xanadu, however, is supposed to be funny.
And it is.
Oh, good Heavens, it is.
Here's the recap, so I don't have to talk about it here:
Now, there is one factor that brought me to this show, and that factor is Mr. Cheyenne Jackson, who stars as Sonny, a struggling artist with a dream (to open a disco roller-skating rink.)
Mr. Jackson literally "skated" in and rescued the show when the original Sonny, James Carpinello, broke his ankle. (I find this incredibly disappointing and sad for Mr. Carpinello. I wish him a speedy recovery and much success.)
Last night was Mr. Jackson's second performance, in a (major Broadway) show he only had about a week's practice to be in.
And you know what???
He was spectacular! (I'd like to point out that Mr. Jackson actually played Superman just last week...and here he is, sweeping in and saving the show!)
This guy is just a pure delight to watch. I think the old lady sitting near me at Cheyenne's show Illyria a few years ago said it best when she remarked, "He's like George Clooney...so handsome, but doesn't take himself seriously." He is probably one of the best-looking guys out there, but he's just so goofy as Sonny. There is no hint of a cologne model persona that his physical appearance implies. (Does that make sense?) And that VOICE! He is indeed a special one!!!
Kerry Butler plays the muse, and I really really WANT that dress she wears throughout the show. It looks like the little BCBG number I have been eyeing to wear to my cousin's wedding next month. She's about 2 feet shorter than Cheyenne (but isn't everybody), but the two still worked extremely well together. She can sing, she can dance and she makes me quite depressed that I can do neither!
Tony Roberts is in the show, which made me slightly starstruck. I am the child of a big Woody Allen fan, and his movies, which Mr. Roberts appeared in frequently, were always on in our house. In fact, my name was almost Annie Hall...until Princess Diana landed on the cover of the newspaper one morning. To be sitting in my rush seat a few feet away from the stage while he was on it was a thrill...not going to lie.
Jackie Hoffman and Mary Testa are comic geniuses.
The ensemble?! FABULOUS. Curtis Holbrook is, quite possibly, one of the cutest things on earth, and his little 1940's tapdance number is the stuff that dreams are made of. (Awe, he wears a pinstripe suit and a derby!)
I thoroughly enjoyed this show. While Cheyenne Jackson was my motive to see it, the whole thing is just GREAT and the funniest thing I have seen onstage in a while.
For all of those following my story (and who isn't?), I was laid-off in March and took it rather badly. I have been on many job interviews since then, and I am tired, frustrated, disgusted, disgruntled and drained most days. (I might just break out into "Everybody Hurts" in a few seconds...)
I have been considering going on anti-depressants to keep my spirits up throughout this typical Quarterlife Crisis and jobhunt. (And summertime is the worst time to jobhunt. The city smells. And you're running around in uncomfortable shoes and dark businessclothes, passing people in flip-flops and sundresses, mumbling, "Hire me! Hire me! Please, please, hire me!" The plastic portfolio I keep all my writing samples in is even starting to melt. It depresses me.)
But, last night, I decided I'm not going to do on anti-depressants.
I do not need them.
I am just going to see Xanadu every day!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!