Thursday, September 1, 2016

I saw "Marie and Rosetta"


What I saw: Marie and Rosetta" at the Linda Gross Theater of the Atlantic Theater Company, off-Broadway in Chelsea at 336 West 20th Street in New York City.

What I wore: striped Fa├žonnable linen  blouse that I bought on sale at Nordstrom in Seattle at least ten years ago, white rag & bone jeans that now have a six inch long, faint brown stain on the right thigh, that new white belt I had made for horse showing, the new glasses that make me look so much like my mother people make fun of me for it, gray Puma sneakers, old tan Coach purse, mascara.


What I did beforehand: tapas, subway ride downtown E to 23rd Street, cappuccino at Grumpy's.


Who went with me: a grumpy Bacon Provider.

How I got tickets: I subscribed to the Atlantic Theater Company's new season of shows online.

Why I saw this show: I saw their productions of "Hold On to Me Darling" and "The Purple lights of Joppa Illinois" and both were excellent.



Where I sat: row E seat 8 




Things that were sad: some of you may not have ever heard of Sister Rosetta Tharpe, and you should have. 

Things that were funny: a lot of things made me laugh.

Things that were not funny: sometimes I felt like I was the only person laughing.

What it is: an excellent musical, featuring the songs and life story of Sister Rosetta Tharpe, performed without intermission, lasting 90 minutes. 

Who should see it: lovers of gospel music, fans of the blues, students of American popular song, supporters of Black Lives Matter, people who liked "Hamilton," children of mothers, feminists, squirrels, women.

What I saw on the way home: we tried to catch an uptown C or E train at 23rd Street, but they weren't running. A pair of signs, one handwritten and the other printed held the confusing news that we should cross the street and take a downtown train to 14th Street and then catch an uptown A, which was running express to 42nd. We instead hailed a dented cab on 8th Avenue. Our manically cheerful driver kept us sitting in stunned and fearful silence as we bucketed up the 22 blocks, snaking westward on West 29th at alarming speed. 

To get back to Bedford Hills, we fetched the car from the garage at the apartment we moved out of this week, an event marking the end of another sad, weird chapter in our bad New York adventure. But anyway we have the garage spot for maybe three more days at the point so we used it. Up the Saw Mill Parkway, we listened to some of Tim O'Brien's Vietnam War memoir, "If I Die in a Combat Zone," which is peppy and irreverent and darkly funny, and when we got home and into bed we had no choice but to go online and read about Sister Rosetta Tharpe. Both the Bacon Provider and I stayed up way, way past our bedtime, until two or two-thirty, looking at YouTube videos of her, singing and playing guitar in her high heels and church lady dresses. My, oh, my.


2 comments:

  1. I'm really irritated that Google isn't posting my comments! And I loved your blog post too and want to know why the BP was grumpy ;)

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  2. Google posts the comments after I see them and ok them. And the subway makes the Bacon Provider grumpy sometimes, and I get carsick in cabs. #stalemate

    ReplyDelete