Monday, July 18, 2005

Chrissy Made It To The Gay White Way!

Why do I read the New York Times? Well, mixed in with all that drab, depressing Real News, there is often important information about something going on that otherwise I might not know about. For instance, I was not aware that Ms. Suzanne Somers was currently starring in her own one-woman autobiographical Broadway musical, "The Blonde in the Thuderbird." Yowza!

The title refers to Suzanne's role in "American Grafitti," in which she played a mysterious blonde "goddess" in a convertible Thunderbird who entrances a very young, Madras-shirt-wearing, pre-cokehead Richard Dreyfuss.

So how good is her play? The Times reviewer, Charles Isherwood, does not mince words:
Something is desperately dress up "The Blonde in the Thunderbird," a drab and embarrassing display of emotional exhibitionism masquerading as entertainment. Attired in a cruelly clingy black tights-and-tunic ensemble, Ms. Somers re-enacts or describes triumphs and traumas from her personal and professional life for a grinding 95 minutes, on a stage adorned only by a pair of video screens, an armchair, a prop phone and a coat rack...

Devoted fans may savor this no-frills, quasi-intimate audience with a favorite celebrity and professional dispenser of uplifting advice, but others may find their attention wandering to the coat rack. And resting there.

Ouch! All that Thighmastering and dieting and her outfit is "cruelly clingy?" Well, what about the musical numbers? I bet Suzanne's a real firecracker!
Some of Ms. Somers's recollections are, regrettably, set to music. A performance of Frank Loesser's "Take Back Your Mink" is spliced into a recitation of a particularly violent encounter with her father. I'm not sure why. The show's writer-directors, Mitzie and Ken Welch, have also provided dreadful new lyrics for some old standards. Dorothy Fields and Jerome Kern's "Pick Yourself Up" is now a song about bouncing checks and seeking solace in shopping. Unfortunately, Ms. Somers's singing voice is thin and often toneless, and the clanging piano chords underscoring the more anguished moments in her history, usually accented by a dramatic clutch at expensively highlighted hair, are giggle-inducing.

So let's see: She looks bad, can't sing, and the most dramatic moments are "giggle-inducing." Well, I guess that settles it.

Broadway, here I come! Sign me up for front-row seats! I'm comin' Suzanne, just don't get cancelled before I get there!

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Beto said...

While channel surfing, Terri R. and I found a profile of Rain Pyror, daughter of Richard. She was at work on her one woman show about herself. It was called, "Hello, I'm Black!" We both thought we were watching a Christopher Guest mockumentary. Bob Balaban would be the director of "Hello, I'm Black!" and it would be shown to be a farce. But it wasn't. "Hello, I'm Black!" was real. Ugh.

jennifer said...

Did you know that I went to high school with Rain? I didn't actually know her, but she's in my yearbook! Next time you're in A-Town remind me to show you. NOT the prettiest girl...