I saw "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory"

Why I haven't been posting blogs: I am taking a class and working on improving this website. The class meets twice a week and has actual homework and requires me to give up two entire afternoons and their adjacent whole evenings every week and, oh,  also there is the extra time spent dreading leaving, seconds blown complaining about leaving, minutes frittered away leaving, hours squandered riding the train, and stretches wasted panicking about having only half of my homework done. 

What I saw: "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory," a new Broadway musical, with some songs from the first movie (but not all), at the Lunt-Fontanne Theatre, 205 West 46th Street in Manhattan.

What I did beforehand: pilates, chased down a $289 error while balancing the checkbook, baked the bread dough I made the night before, met with a tree guy in the drenching rain, riding lesson, drove to S's new house, took the inaugural shower in my friend's new guest bathroom, got dressed, talked to Radar. 

What I wore: Chinese-made Australian boots, James jeans black micro-cords, Danner belt, Eileen Fisher brown jersey go-to top, mushroom-colored cardigan with fringe, the Indian scarf from the gift shop of the Folk Art museum, black parka 

Who went with me: S., her husband, their two kids and au pair.

How I got tickets: S.

Why I saw this show: all the nights in 4th grade I spent when I couldn't sleep, and didn’t stop reading until Charlie got his golden ticket; being able to sing all the words to all the songs in the original movie; knowing someone with kids who was going. 

Where I sat: front row, second mezzanine, between S. and her younger child L.

Things that were good: spending an evening with my friend S. and her family. 

Things that were sad: Augustus Gloop is still a strange, fat, hungry, carnivorous German, but other characters have been “updated” to include some Heroes of the Internet and a Russian mobster/billionaire. This remake didn't have time for my favorite song, Veruca Salt's "I want it now." L. was upset that two of the bad children seemed to have been killed (one exploded, the other torn into five pieces). I have to say that I enjoyed my friends' company more than the show. 

Things that were funny/not funny: Grandpa George's jokes about wishing he was dead, the (unintentionally) comically undersized sets (think Spinal Tap's Stone Henge), my laughably sincere hope that the Oompa-Loompas will be the last of the tiny-yet-jolly enslaved people portrayed in children’s literature (no longer orange-skinned in this production); grade A performers with a C+ script.

Something I ate: Shake Shack with S.'s fam.

What it is: proof that this children's book classic should not be remade anymore. People should read the book, watch the original movie and leave it at that. 

Who should see it: unintelligible to anyone who hasn't seen the movie(s) and/or read Roald Dahl's classic children's book. 

What I saw on the way home: a distracting, decorative throw pillow on the side of the road.

I saw “Present Laughter”

What I saw: “Present Laughter,” a revival of a Noël Coward play, starring Kevin Kline at the St. James Theater on West  44th Street in Manhattan.

What I did beforehand: dinner at the upscale and modern Chinese restaurant Hakkasan at 311 W 43rd St. Some reviews dismiss it as being part of a chain. Pre-theater dinner options are limited, and this place is very good. Show up early and grab cocktails in the bar.

Something I ate: hot and sour soup with chicken and chocolate passion fruit dessert 

What I wore: a weird combination of a new sweater and tweed skirt, with tights. I should have worn wool tights, but I don’t have black ones. And a black Barbour down coat that is too tight in the arms and shoulders when worn over a sweater. 

Who went with me: the Bacon Provider and a lot of eager Kevin Kline fans.

How I got tickets: online, from Ticketmaster. Alas, they require you to pay quite a bit extra to get physical tickets, so I had to do the print-at-home deal. My preferred plan is to pick up tickets at will-call, so I don’t have to wait for them to come in the mail, store them, and remember to bring them. An 8 1/2 by 11” sheet of paper from my computer's printer with a bar code and some boxes of text describing the event is no substitute for actual tickets. Real tickets are memorabilia. E-tickets are trash.

Why I saw this show: I grew up in the same suburban St. Louis neighborhood as Kevin Kline, and back in the 80s I thought he was hilarious and brilliant.

Where I sat: Mezzanine Row A, seat 109, between my husband and a distracting woman who took up a lot of oxygen if not space.

Things that were sad: the acoustics were meh. I think the play would be better in a slightly smaller venue. 

Things that were funny: the chain-smoking Swedish housekeeper, the aggressive Trump-style injurious handshake of the wacky playwright, the baby-men business partners, slamming doors, ringing phones and doorbells. Kevin Kline is still hilarious and brilliant. What a joy to see great physical comedy live on stage. 

Things that were not funny: the actor who played the secretary seems to have been injured in the first act, and was wearing a bandage on her left wrist in the second act. The coffee that was served onstage over and over was said to taste like curry but in my excellent seats I could see plainly that it was water.   

What it is: another vehicle for an aging-but-vibrant actor; also a funny mid-20th Century farce from a true master of the genre about an aging-but-vibrant actor. 

Who should see it:  backstage comedy devotees, Kate Burton buffs, dressing gown enthusiasts, forties fashion fanciers, fools for redheads, Matt Bittner freaks, Ellen Harvey hounds, latchkey lovers, hat mavens, Noël Coward nuts, suckers for the mellifluous baritone of Peter Francis James, Reg Rogers regulars, Kristine Nielsen groupies; admirers of Tedra Millan (it’s her Broadway debut), Kevin Kline cultists, disciples of Cobie Smulders, and Bhavesh Patel boosters.

What I saw on the way home: jackhammers

I saw "Sweat"

What I saw: "Sweat," a play, at the theater known as Studio 54, on West 54th Street in Manhattan.

What I did beforehand: PT on my right knee which I found out this week hurts not because of a ligament tear (hooray!), but because of arthritis (boo!). I was happy about this for perhaps 12 hours, until I realized it meant that instead of surgeryI was facing some amount of knee pain for the rest of my life, which I would get to manage henceforward. Then I went and got my hair cut. 

What I wore: plaid wool dress, ripped tights and Fluevog boots. 

Who went with me: B., a friend of my parents, who I've known since I was a kid, and haven't seen since 2004.

How I got tickets: online as soon as the new venue was announced after missing the chance to see this show's sold-out run at The Public Theater. 

Why I saw this show: rave reviews.

Where I sat: Row A, on the end, with no one in front of us. 

Things that were sad: this perfectly paced play is about the destruction of working class lives thanks to the relentless forces of unchecked American capitalism. 

Things that were funny: it is not a funny play, but it is not without humor.

Things that were not funny: the venue shows evidence of having been painted, as if current management accepts that audiences look askance at obvious shabbiness, but it’s like someone’s brother-in-law got them a really good deal on many gallons matte black paint and the paint was applied by people who’d never painted before, and as quickly as possible. Crumbling theater venues can do shabby gloriously, like BAM’s facilities. Studio 54 looks like the party ended in 1980, and they just woke up and swept a little.

Something I ate: confetti eggplant and filleted whole durade, part of a really fine and fun meal sitting at the bar of Taboon, on 52nd and 10th Ave. When you go, make a reservation. Share the entrees and order lots of meze plates. 

What it is: a big (and by this I also mean important), serious play with a strong ensemble cast. If this was not the best play I’ve seen in the last year, it was certainly in the top five. Tackling issues of economic uncertainty and race relations in America with fully fleshed-out characters and meaningful stakes, “Sweat” engages on all the levels the talking heads on TV don’t.

Who should see it: line workers, strugglers, bartenders, union members, strike breakers, white supremacists, people who’ve done time, conservatives, drunks, survivors, managers, liberals, know-it-alls.

What I saw on the way home: the dark Saw Mill River Parkway, built with bridges too low for buses, so only passenger cars could use it and specifically buses could not, stretched out before me in a familiar blur. This road is like everything we’ve ever done in America.

I saw "Sunset Boulevard"

What I saw: “Sunset Boulevard," a musical, on Broadway at the Palace Theater at Broadway and 47th.

What I did beforehand: riding lesson, dog walk, shower; drove to town, walked to train station, waited on the platform outside because the heated waiting area smelled like farts, heard an announcement that the train was running 15 minutes late. Heard a Connected Teen say “Whoa. Like, the next train is at like, Goldens Bridge and like, running 40 minutes late.” 

I texted the Bacon Provider. He encouraged me to like, bail on the train and drive. So I did. It was a relatively quick drive to the city, followed by a slow crawl while I figured out parking. Never trust navigation software about getting places within NYC. They’re all wrong. 

What I wore: yellow Fluevog men-styled oxfords, black mini-cord pants, purple Eileen Fisher sweater, dangly gold earrings. 

Who went with me: my friend S, who also wore purple.

How I got tickets/Why I saw this show: S suggested it, and booked them.

Where I sat: Mezzanine Row E, somewhere in the middle of the row, between S. and a French-speaking woman with a Québécois accent who was writing things down in a notebook during the production, took out her phone and caught a photograph during the first act and failed to suppress her flash. 

Things that were sad: we were scolded, as a group, for having and using phones by an irate usher during intermission. The woman next to me, who was the one who took the flash photo, sat calmly eating from her bag of ROLD GOLD® Tiny Twists Pretzels and made no indication that she heard the usher at all.

Things that were funny: the original movie version of Sunset Boulevard is a Hollywood classic , directed by Billy Wilder. The dark and slightly campy film-noir inspired many zingers and spoofs over the years, and any time a classic line is uttered in this production the audience burst into cheering. 

Things that were not funny: when we left, there were a number of pretzels on the ground next to my seat, broken and ground into crumbs.

Something I ate: meatballs at the Marshal.

What it is: a big, glossy Broadway vehicle for the aging movie star, with soaring music by Andrew Lloyd Webber, a large, full orchestra, and most of the good lines fans of the original film are looking for. Maybe Glenn Close isn't quite the singer to deliver the songs as perfectly as they could be sung; certainly it mattered not at all, and maybe was better for her imperfect pitch. 

Who should see it: Glenn Close groupies, film-noir aficionados, Broadway buffs,  admirers of Andrew Lloyd Webber, Billy Wilder boosters, pretzel-loving Quebeckers. 

What I saw on the way home: mounted NYPD, but after that, just the road.

I saw "Dear Evan Hansen"

What I saw: "Dear Evan Hansen," a new Broadway musical, at the Music Box Theater on West 45th near like, I dunno, 8th Ave.

What I did beforehand: saw this guy worshipping the clothes in a store, and then met up with my friend Bill from the Internet, and we had drinks. It was hard to feel like we weren't toasting the life of our dead friend, America. RIP, America. We knew you when.

What I wore: two black shirts with jeans, hiking boots, big parka, the earrings before I broke one.

Who went with me: white people.

How I got tickets: just a couple of days before, online, for about $400.

Why I saw this show: I wonder if the world is divided into the bullies and the bullied, with some overlap. 

Where I sat: Row H seat 106, between this guy whose plane from LAX was three hours late making him miss the opening song so he had to sneak in courtesy of an usher with a flashlight and slide past me with his butt in my face after the show had started and, oh, him, and a group of three empty seats on the other side of me that were sold when I checked online. 

Things that were sad: I cried all the mascara off my eyes in the first act.

Things that were funny: people checking their phones at intermission, during a play (partly) about the power of social media.

Things that were not funny: I took off my glasses at intermission (to look at my phone) and they fell off my head and I didn’t notice until the lights dimmed for the second act, so I had to sit there, not able to see perfectly, waiting for the end so I could turn on my flashlight and crawl around. I started looking as soon as people started clapping, but couldn’t find them, and as poeple left the theater a few of the people around me noticed I was looking and pitched in. The person to find them was a house manager. I thanked him, but it felt like it wasn’t enough. 

Something I ate: homemade chips at Joe Allen.

What it is: a fine, energetic musical about a lonely, anxious teen. With moments of great truth about trying not to suck as a parent and featuring a cast that seems to embody their roles, every one of them. Highly recommended. 

Who should see it: liars, teens, parents, people who cannot imagine that social media has a positive impact on the world. People who can't imagine what a middle class white kid in America might be anxious about. Fans of American musical theater. 

What I saw on the way home: too many ads, which is to say, nothing. 

I saw "Beautiful"

What I saw: "Beautiful," a biographical Broadway musical about the career of singer/songwriter Carole King, at the Stephen Sondheim Theater on the south side of West 43rd Street, between 6th Avenue and Broadway. 

What I wore: Fluevog stacked heel boots, black infantilizing Eileen Fisher pants (no pockets), green floral blouse/dress with a drawstring and long, dangly ties to give it shape, gold and black scarf that I snagged from my mother's closet before she was even dead, long black Patagonia rain coat that is nicely waterproof but not sophisticated enough in its fit and finish to feel like the right raincoat for New York City, fancy black Coach bag with cross-body strap.

What I did beforehand: riding lesson, shower, train, met a friend under the clock at Grand Central, walked up 5th Avenue in the drizzling rain, took the express elevator to the shoe department on the 8th floor at Saks, talked about my mother's 41 pairs of size 6 navy blue pumps, sat at the bar and drank a glass of wine at Épicerie Boulud under the Plaza Hotel, had dinner at Sardi's. 

Who went with me: my old friend A., who I met in a Northern California beach town in 1992. I was introduced to A. by a friend of her sister-in-law with whom I'd struck up a conversation on the beach. "I think you'll like her," she said, sizing me up. She was right.

How I got tickets: I attended as A.’s guest. 

Why I saw this show:  when you see about a show a week, and someone wants to join you, you let them choose.

Where I sat: between my friend and a woman who was singing along tunelessly to all the songs toward the end of the show. 

"I wanna see Kinky Boots!" #overheard #broadway

— Hamsteria d'Relish (@hamsterRelish) October 1, 2016

Things that were sad: Carole King's first husband was probably even a more self-absorbed man-baby than he is portrayed to be.

Things that were funny: the show relentlessly teases the audience by presenting each of Carole King’s early career hit songs with a crafty joke about its origins. 

"I had no idea! I just thought it would be her singing!"
"She's a Jewish girl from Brooklyn!"#Beautiful #Broadway

— Hamsteria d'Relish (@hamsterRelish) October 1, 2016

Things that were not funny:  the dangly ties on my shirt dropped into the toilet at Sardi's, and there was a bathroom attendant, so I couldn't rinse them in the sink without explaining it to the woman attendant in there turning on the faucets and handing out towels and I couldn't bear to do it so I left them dangling wetly behind me. I gave her a dollar. She gave me a paper towel.

What it is: an enjoyable and well-constructed show for baby-boomers. Broadway musicals today all have fast-paced musical numbers with churning bodies and amplified singing. Some, like this one, manage to express some genuine human pathos in between the swelling strings and belted ballads. 

Who should see it: anyone born before 1965. Fans of Carole King should not miss this show. Thoughtful Americans who spend too much time thinking about politics will find plot points and themes reminiscent of the life of Hillary Rodham Clinton.

"You know my husband is voting for Trump?"
"He gives my husband nightmares."

— Hamsteria d'Relish (@hamsterRelish) October 1, 2016

What I saw on the way home: 

I saw "Hamilton"

What I saw: "Hamilton," a musical at the Richard Rodgers Theater, on West 46th between 7th and 8th Avenue.

What I wore: black Brooks Brothers no-iron cotton blouse with 3/4-length sleeves, stretch denim capri James jeans, black Puma suede sneakers, short black SmartWool socks, gold Victorian earrings I wore in my wedding, gold bead Tiffany necklace, my grandmother's square face Longines wristwatch, mascara, excited grin.

On the TV, Olympic swimming

What I did beforehand: dropped off my watch for repair, had lunch at Fig & Olive (where I complained they didn't serve eggs), watched the NYPD herding the excited and disappointed crowd at end of the live lottery in front of the theater, stopped for a pre-theater cocktail at the unexpectedly not inadequate Brasserie Athenée (corner of W 46th and 8th).

Who went with me: the Bacon Provider.

How I got tickets: though I half-heartedly played the Hamilton online lottery a few times, I bought these tickets online, through Ticketmaster's re-sale option, about a month ago; the  price printed on the tickets is $175 (each) for the seats plus $2 handling. I paid about $1100 (each) for the seats, with a $200 fee for handling the re-sale. 

Why I saw this show: because everyone made such a big deal about it. I even read Ron Chernow's book about Hamilton, which inspired the show. I found the book a good read, but ultimately depressing, because our founding fathers made terrible choices.

Where I sat: Front Row, Mezzanine, seat A 2. In my opinion the best place to see this show. (One of the reasons I was willing to spend soooo much money on this show was because these seats were available).

Don't worry about which cast you see.

The performers are all spectacularly talented.

Things that were sad: our founding fathers were petty, egotistical, adulterous nitwits with anger management issues.

Things that were funny: our founding fathers were petty, egotistical, adulterous nitwits with anger management issues.

Things that were not funny: the show is almost three hours, including a fifteen minute intermission. The Richard Rodgers Theater has narrow public areas that become very congested before and after and during intermission and has howlingly inadequate restrooms. People brought small children to this show, some dressed as horrifying, tiny, be-wigged, tricorned, enlightenment-era patriotic props, as if such cos-play might win a door prize.

What it is: the most important and acclaimed American musical of the past twenty-plus years. Yes, it is as good as they say. 

Who should see it: bastards, Americans, students of American history, sisters, fans of American musical theater, rappers, revolutionaries, Federalists, Jeffersonians, duelists. 

They put bee pollen on it.

What I saw on the way home: we got dinner at the Marshal, a tiny and bustling restaurant offering skillfully prepared, locally-sourced, delicious food on 10th Avenue, near West 45th (reservations recommended). Some of the staff consider us regulars, and when they saw the "Hamilton" programs in our hands, I told them we'd seen it to celebrate because, "We've been married 30 fucking years," which they thought was pretty awesome. So awesome, they surprised us with champagne and dessert at the end of our meal. We may have had the last word, though, with the tip. 

How many days after seeing Hamilton does a person get "My Shot" out of their head?

— Hamsteria d'Relish (@hamsterRelish) August 15, 2016

I saw “Fun Home”

What I saw: “Fun Home,” a musical based on the graphic novel/memoir by Alison Bechdel, at the Circle in the Square Theater,  a “Broadway” theatre in midtown Manhattan at 235 West 50th Street in the Paramount Plaza building.

What I wore: favorite jeans (slightly dirty) that now have three snags on the left thigh from Schwartz sharpening his claws on me when I go to the bathroom,  limited edition Swash Puma sneakers with short black socks, white Lululemon tank top, collarless white linen Garnet Hill tunic-length blouse that I love despite it having no pockets (and it would be so much better with pockets) that I trot out once a year for a beach vacation or hot summer night which I realized as I put it on and noticed a very old rust stain on the cuff that is from 1997 because it was a gift from my mother-in-law when I was pregnant with my youngest who turned 19 recently.

LOOK AT MY FUCKING PENIS CAPPUCCINO HOORAY pic.twitter.com/cMhhRrgNIt

— Hamsteria d'Relish (@hamsterRelish) July 26, 2016

What I did beforehand: got coffee and showed my friend and her girlfriend the view from our apartment.

Who went with me: a friend who goes back to 1997, her girlfriend, and my oldest child, a.k.a., The Graduate.

A long line is one thing
A long line that doesn't move is cause for shouting #nyc pic.twitter.com/NnRNWmdaDW

— Hamsteria d'Relish (@hamsterRelish) July 26, 2016

How I got tickets: online, full price, when I heard the show was closing at the end of summer.

Why I saw this show: my friend was what we call “straight” from 1997 until fairly recently, when she had an epiphany that she was “fishing from the wrong pond.” We are very happy to see her so happy, and we like her girlfriend, and after we saw another play together I mentioned this play, without saying, “Oh, you know, the lesbian coming-of-age musical?” and neither of them had heard of it. So I thought they needed to see it, and I actually asked them not to read about it and they didn’t. So I got to surprise my lesbian friends with a really great coming-of-age lesbian musical.

Where I sat: Row B, seat 237, behind a woman with short hair who checked in on Facebook beforehand, and her daughter with short hair who did a lot of hugging when it was over. 

Things that were sad: while there are funny moments in the story, there are a lot of sad things, too.

The best thing about seeing the lesbian coming of age musical was the women hugging their moms in the audience at the end

— Hamsteria d'Relish (@hamsterRelish) July 27, 2016

Things that were funny: probably the funniest scene is the kids playing in the Fun Home.

Things that were not funny: it closes September 10. 

What it is: a musical, based on a graphic novel/memoir that it manages to distill the important and complicated good parts without over-simplifying. Iy is one hour and 40 minutes long, without intermission.

Who should see it: mothers and daughters, fathers and daughters, men and women, women and women, lesbians, people who know lesbians, people who don’t know any lesbians, people who went to college, people with parents.

I SAW FUN HOME
I BROUGHT LESBIANS
I LAUGHED
I cried
I LOVED IT

— Hamsteria d'Relish (@hamsterRelish) July 27, 2016

What I saw on the way home: the best burger I’ve had in NYC, at Bareburger. We also had onion rings.