Where Will You Stand

The plan for this week’s post was derailed. My intent was to write about the musical adaptation of the movie School of Rock, but then I went to see The Steel Wheels in concert at CSPS Hall. And it became crystal clear. Why write about a mediocre musical when I could implore all seven people that read this to listen to The Steel Wheels? 

Before last week, my most recent Steel Wheels experience was at the Walnut Valley Festival last September. I was devastated to learn I was out of town later in the fall when they stopped in Ames. Of late, some of my family members are struggling to find good health inside bodies that have walked the earth for ninety-five years. Though my health remains intact, watching aging before your eyes is draining in more ways than one. A Steel Wheels concert is exactly what my soul needed. Not all musicians or bands are as good live as they are recorded. Fewer still are better. The Steel Wheels are in this select group. Their live performances pulsate with an energy that cannot be captured on a recording. One cannot help but be swept up.

The Steel Wheels give the impression that they never have an off night. This night was no exception. Trent Wagler, Jay Lapp, Brian Dickel and Kevin Garcia are uncommonly talented musicians and singers. In fact, even if they fumbled, the audience would never know and they would still be playing better than most musicians. Filling in for Eric Brubaker is Oliver Craven. Craven fits in perfectly; to the uninitiated he would never seem a substitute. One of the most touching moments of the evening came when the group dedicated “The Race” to absent member Eric Brubaker, who is taking time off to mourn the loss of his daughter. The sense of hopefulness and healing in the room was palpable.

The evening was a pretty typical Steel Wheels set: a mix of positivity and lamentation. Fast, driving songs alternate with slower more deliberate melodies. The Steel Wheels played a few songs from their upcoming summer release. “Under” drew me in. I can’t wait to listen to it again. The new songs they performed are distinctly Steel Wheels, but with a looser, relaxed quality that belies how hard they are working.

My favorite moment of the evening was the performance of “With It All Stripped Away.” Performed early in the set, this was the moment when The Steel Wheels grabbed hold of the audience and did not let go. Sung a cappella, the song is a call for reflection and action:

With no status, no power, no women, no men
With it all stripped away, where will you stand

With no profit, no weapons, no money in your hand
With it all stripped away, where will you stand

Stand up, in the early morning
(stand up) Stand up when there is no warning
(stand up) Stand up when the storm is rising, all around

With no color, no creed, no bible to defend
With it all stripped away, where will you stand

When this world (this whole world) turns violent, when there's no side left to win
With it all stripped away, where will you stand

Stand up when the wind is blowing
(stand up) Stand up when the tears are flowing
(stand up) Stand up when justice calls and you hear the sound

So when your quiet, alone, and this day has met its end
With it all stripped away, where will you stand
With it all stripped away, where will you stand

My opinion is abundantly clear. The more Steel Wheels in my life the better. Make your life better, too. Click Play. Oh, and School of Rock? You can skip it.

With A Smile On Your Face

Few artists have had as tremendous an impact on American music as Carole King. Since the jukebox bio musical was welcomed on Broadway more than a decade ago, it was only a matter of time before enterprising producers ventured to bring her life and music to the stage. Upon seeing Beautiful on tour a couple of years ago, I immediately decided that I needed to see it again. It was different than I had expected and I needed to see it again through different eyes. And so it was that I found myself on a Sunday evening in New York City, in search of a show. After stage dooring the final performance of Kinky Boots for well over an hour, I practically sprinted from the Hirschfeld to the Sondheim to get to my seat before curtain. Beautiful is well-written and expertly designed and it pays, pun intended, beautiful tribute to Carole King and her contribution to American music.

Beautiful spans the early years in King’s career – which began with a hit song at 17 years old – and concludes with the release of her monumentally successful album Tapestry. Married as a teenager to chemist and aspiring lyricist Gerry Goffin, King and Goffin pumped out hit songs as frequently as the rest of us pour a bowl of cereal (by which I mean a lot, I eat a ton of cereal). Goffin, brooding and discontent, bristled at the prospect of settling into family life, while King dreamed of a sort of suburban utopia. The love they shared was not enough to sustain their marriage. During the early phases of Beautiful’s development, King admitted to having little interest in seeing a musical adaptation of her life and, watching her story unfold on stage, it is not hard to imagine that were we in her shoes we would feel similarly hesitant. A perfect hand King was not dealt. But from what I have gleaned about the actual King from watching many concerts and PBS specials (and speaking to her oh so briefly at a Get Out the Vote rally many moons ago) she has an enviable resilience, her dry humor a defense mechanism that, rather than close her off from experience and emotion, sustains her positivity. Book writer Douglas McGrath captures King’s innate sense of joy. Indeed, it's not hard to imagine King uttering some of his quick-witted dialogue. 

If McGrath gives words to Carole King the character, it is up to the star to bring her to life. As Carole King, Chilina Kennedy, who has played the role extensively, has an assuredness that is in a class of its own. She imbues King with an inner strength that lies close to the surface, springing forward in the face of adversity. Importantly, Kennedy does a nice job of incorporating some of King's speech and singing patterns without simply seeming to mimic her. Evan Todd as Gerry Goffin, and Kara Lindsay and Ben Jacoby as fellow songwriters, friends and competitors Cynthia Weil and Barry Mann round out the leading cast. The talented ensemble of singers and dancers keep the show moving, playing multiple roles and inhabiting such famous singers as Neil Sedaka, The Drifters and The Shirelles.

The costumes, choreography and design of the show are superbly polished.  Synchronized doo-wop dancing is irresistible and Beautiful has smooth moves to spare. Crisp, shiny suits catch the spotlight with every bend of the knee and flick of the wrist. The set is understated but not boring. Take, for example, the multi-level 1650 Broadway set, a Brill Building type complex in the songwriting "block" of Manhattan. With its’ spare feel and visible steel, the set reinforces the sort of industrialized production of hits that came to be known as the Brill Building sound.

The high quality of the music featured in Beautiful is, of course, a forgone conclusion. King truly wrote the music of a generation. The music credits in the Playbill read like a comprehensive history of the American song. Beautiful showcases upbeat hits such as “The Locomotion” and “He’s Sure the Boy I Love” and nimbly transitions to heavier emotion with “Will You Love Me Tomorrow” and “One Fine Day.” The latter of which can be a fun, bouncy hit outside of the context of the scene. But here, when Gerry admits to having a relationship with singer Janelle Woods (who is on stage singing the song for a TV broadcast) and Carole takes over the song from Janelle, the song takes on a bittersweet note. The tone is perfect in that moment, the close of Act I. Note that as a Positive Patty I subscribe to the out of context version of the song when my alarm goes off at 7:00 in the morning.

I find myself at a loss for words to sum up the show. Maybe it's because Beautiful is just that. Beautiful. The conclusion of the show is perfect, ending with King's 1971 concert at Carnegie Hall and King, alone at the piano, belting the titular song. With humor, heart and a brilliant set of tunes, Beautiful will remind you of your youth or, if you're like me, make you wish you were growing up at a time when spunky girl from New York City was changing the music industry and paving the way for a generation of singers and songwriters.

A Tale of Two Dresses

Musical adaptations of hit films are downright ubiquitous on Broadway. What Hairspray kicked off nearly two decades ago (mother of pearl, typing that sentence makes me feel old) has continued with varied degrees of success. As with many things in life, quality and success do not necessarily go hand in hand. The Lion King continues it’s multi-decade run just a few streets over from Aladdin. For every Kinky Boots there is a Ghost: The Musical. I will leave it up to you to determine into which bucket each of these shows fall. A visit to New York City last week gave me the opportunity to see two members of the newer crop of movie adaptations: Pretty Woman: The Musical and Tootsie. Pretty Woman feels worn and sluggish while Tootsie brims with a fresh energy. Indeed, the only thing these two shows share is the fact that, at some point in the show, the main character is outfitted in a bright red dress.

The movie Pretty Woman was huge when it was released in 1990, and is probably best known for solidifying Julia Roberts as one of the biggest and most bankable Hollywood stars. With music by Bryan Adams and Jim Vallance and a book by Gary Marshall and J.F. Lawton, also the film’s screenwriters, the musical is a retread. The story, setting and time period are nearly cookie cutter copies of the movie and it suffers because of that. The chance to simply add music is not enough to warrant a transfer to the stage. Adapting a movie for the stage brings with it the opportunity to make changes and tailor the story for a new medium and, often, a new decade, but Pretty Woman does not take full advantage of that opportunity.

Samantha Barks and Andy Karl, in the undoubtedly difficult position of filling the shoes of Roberts and Richard Gere, do everything they can with the material. Barks and Karl are undeniably talented, as is the hard-working ensemble and supporting cast. But the story and music does not resonate. Watchable? Sure. Completely needed? Probably not.

By contrast, across town, the adaption of the 1982 Sydney Pollack film Tootsie hits all the right notes. Now set in the present day, and with the show-within-a-show flipped from a soap opera to a Broadway musical (meta opportunities abound), Tootsie makes the argument for its’ creation that Pretty Woman does not. The creative team of Robert Horn, David Yazbek, Denis Jones and Scott Ellis have crafted the quintessential musical comedy: song and dance, conflict and resolution, sarcasm and sentiment.

A man masquerading as a woman in order to get a job is tricky water to navigate in the #MeToo era and, while some of the topical references are a bit heavy-handed, the show successfully navigates relationships in many different forms: male friendship, female friendship, female/male friendship, romantic relationships and, perhaps most importantly, the relationship with oneself. The cast, led by future Tony Award winner Santino Fontana is exceptional. No really, I’m no expert, but Fontana’s hilarious and heartfelt performance as Michael Dorsey/Dorothy Michaels is brilliant. Dustin who? He commands your attention and earns your respect. The supporting cast features strong turns from Lilli Cooper as Julie, Andy Grotelueschen as Jeff and Sarah Stiles as Sandy. Stiles, as Michael’s codependent ex-girlfriend with a few hilarious peculiarities about her, is the definition of a scene stealer. I challenge you not to laugh when Sandy laments her attempt at doing the Dirty Dancing lift with her cat.

Still in previews, Tootsie cannot yet be judged as a final product, but, if the preview performance I saw is any indication, Tootsie has legs – and not just Santino Fontana’s gams in that iconic red dress. Tootsie has the energy and the compassion to strut down 46^th Street and into our hearts. So, I beg you Broadway audiences, please reward Tootsie’s quality with financial success so that it plays long enough for me to get back to see the finished product. Please.

The Kitch Lit Series: Visual Edition, Round 2

A discerning diner I am not. I admit it. I love pizza and macaroni and I eat PB&J for lunch every day. I have only recently become acquainted with fine dining thanks to 801 Chophouse. While I ate my first meal at 801 a light bulb literally went off in my head, so that is what properly prepared meat tastes and chews like? Generally speaking, my taste in culinary entertainment is similar to my taste in food itself. Plain and simple is good enough for me. Spring Baking Championship? I’ll take it. America’s Test Kitchen? I’d love to pretend that I’ll whip up that recipe. Top Chef? Yes, please. And then I was introduced to Netflix’s Chef’s Table, the 801 Chophouse to my homemade pizza pie. Exquisitely simple, Chef’s Table will open your eyes to new ways to think about what we eat, how we eat and the chefs who imagine the possibilities.

Chef’s Table profiles one chef in each episode, all at the cutting edge of their field and at the top of their game. Most of these Chefs operate restaurants that are among the best in the world, some awarded multiple Michelin stars. The appeal of Chef’s Table lies in its’ minimalism. The show employs a beautifully simple documentary style: the chef telling their origin story and a couple of critics or fellow chefs explaining their influence on the culinary field intercut with passages of their work in a kitchen creating dishes. 

With breathtaking cinematography, not just of the food but of the locales as well, Chef’s Table forces you to consider food as more than sustenance and dining as more than simply the exercise of eating. Whether it be in Peru, Slovenia, New Zealand or right down the road in Chicago, you will be astounded by what chefs are doing with food. Virgilio Martinez uses natural ingredients from Peru to create dishes based on the region and altitude from which the ingredients originated. Ana Ros uses similarly natural ingredients from her native Slovenia. Ivan Orkin perfects the deceptively complex and layered Japanese ramen dish. And then there are the edible balloons from the mind of Grant Achatz. Edible balloons, people. I know, it’s hard to comprehend. Google it.

The road to becoming a chef was different for all of these men and women. Some knew from a young age that pursuing a career in culinary arts was their only desired course. Others are self-taught. For some, cooking was a means to an end, a way to travel or secure a green card. As varied as their backgrounds are, the singular similarity between these chefs is absolutely striking: they have found their calling. Rarely in life do we identify a singular passion. Even more rarely do we get the chance to live it every day. These chefs did and do, and it radiates from their being. And more than just enjoying cooking, the chefs love and appreciate the effect of cooking and eating together and the emotional connections it has the power to create.

Their other commonality: an innate willingness. Whether it is trying new ingredients, techniques or plating, or perfecting the perfect dough (even if it takes hundreds of loaves), these chefs are relentless in their willingness to do. Obsession and perfection are common themes. 

All of the enthusiasm poured out thus far has been without mention of the chefs' fascinating, often incredibly humbling, personal stories. And though my Midwestern sensibilities lead me to believe that I would likely be ready for some dinner after enjoying a meal at one of these incredible restaurants - I seem to have the metabolism of Pizza Rat - not to mention the fact that some of the dishes are so stunning that it seems a shame to ruin the composition by eating it, the prospect of dining at one of these restaurants is what dreams are made of.

The Kitch Lit Series: Visual Edition

Kitchens of the Great Midwest may have sparked my interest in kitch lit but Danny Meyer’s Setting the Table fanned the flame into a bonfire. After I read Meyer’s book on hospitality in the restaurant industry, books in the kitch lit genre were exclusively on my nightstand for many months thereafter.

Now many moons later, flipping through Netflix and, what a surprise, being fed a lot of Netflix’s original series (let’s be real, Netflix is the real puppet master in this world) I came upon the series 7 Days Out. This documentary series highlights the preparation and logistics of some of the biggest events in the world. The first episode, bizarrely intriguing, follows the lead up to the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show. A unique brand of folks to say the least, but hey, whatever floats your boat -er, fluffs the coat on your show dog. The second episode of 7 Days Out seems to have been written for me, for episode two features the last minute flurry of activities surrounding the reopening of one of the country's greatest restaurants, Eleven Madison Park. 

In 1998, Eleven Madison Park was opened by Meyer’s Union Square Hospitality Group, and in 2011, Will Guidara and Chef Daniel Humm purchased the restaurant from Meyer. In 2017, Guidara and Humm closed Eleven Madison Park  from June to October. for extensive renovations and a menu overhaul. The episode focuses on the seven days before their reopening. 7 Days Out confirms what so many successful – and unsuccessful – restaurateurs have learned: the restaurant industry is not for the faint of heart. Opening or reopening a restaurant is an incredible feat. Physical aspects of the kitchen and dining room must combine flawlessly with staffing, process and, oh, the small matter of actually executing the actual dishes.

To say I find it all fascinating is an understatement. Successful stress management is on abundant display at Eleven Madison Park. Less than a week to opening, the tables and chairs have yet to be delivered. There is the small matter of the Ansel inspection, which must be passed in order to get gas certification in New York City. Yep, the gas to power the stoves in the kitchen, so chefs can cook the foodstuffs. Who needs heat for cooking? Minor details. After several delays and one failed inspection, the gas was turned on at Eleven Madison Park on the day of the friends and family opening.

The result of many, many rounds of testing.

The restaurant industry, almost as much as the theater industry itself, is about putting on a show. In fact, the similarities between the restaurant world and the theater world are plentiful. For instance, the industries share a common language. Terms such as ‘front of house’ and ‘back of house’ are second nature to both. And in both industries the success of the night requires that both the front and back of house run like a well-oiled machine. Guidara describes their similarities perfectly: two days out from opening was tech, dress rehearsal came one day out with the friends and family dinner followed, finally, by a much anticipated opening night. And, as in the theater, tweaks are happening up to the very last minute when the show is frozen. The priceless moment in which Chef Humm finalizes plating for a dish with caviar on top - he determines it should be the way they had done it before - his executive chef responds, with a hint of helplessness in his voice, “we did 25 different versions” could just as easily be a director deciding at the last minute to light a scene from a different angle. Attention to detail in restaurants, as in theater, is quite often what separates the good from the great. Indeed, the front of house staff steams the booths on opening day because the fabric – being brand new - is stiffer than anticipated. That's the cream rising to the top.

I wish I could say that my trip to New York in a couple of weeks would include a meal at Eleven Madison Park, but with the dining room tasting menu currently running $335 a pop, I will probably never cross the threshold at Eleven Madison Park. Taking a photo out front and peering inside will have to suffice. Chef Humm, wave if you see me outside!

Sorry Not Sorry

After binging all ten seasons of the time travel comedy Friends  - beepers, answering machines and the invention of email, oh my! - I was left with a six person-sized void to fill after Rachel got off the plane last week. Without doing a lot of research, I pivoted in tone from the tame innuendo of Friends to the unapologetically raunchy comedy I’m Sorry. While some of the storylines come across as vulgarity for vulgarity’s sake, the characters are likable and the dialogue is quick and sharp.

I’m Sorry is a comedy from Andrea Savage, who created and stars as a version of herself: comedy writer, wife and mom. Most of us will never know how close Andrea Savage is to her alter ego Andrea Warren but, personally, I don’t need to. I’ll take the dramatized version who sticks her foot in her mouth, curses like a sailor and pronounces the day her five year-old daughter uses sarcasm for the first time as the best day of her life. 

Andrea, husband Mike (Tom Everett Scott) and daughter Amelia (Olive Petrucci) are the sun in the I’m Sorry universe. Andrea and Mike raise Amelia in the only way they know how: trial and error. They overcorrect when she expresses interest in The Little Mermaid and Amelia reacts later by scorning a stay at home mother. And after Andrea shows her The Sound of Music, Amelia is worried Hitler is hiding in her closet. Andrea’s solution? Give Amelia a stone leftover from the goddess party she hosted. After all, like the sorcerer’s stone in Harry Potter, it will protect her from all the scary things in the world. When Mike correctly points out that the sorcerer’s stone was used to help bring Voldemort back to life, not to protect Harry, Andrea quips, “F**k you, JK Rowling. Go back to the café. Write a couple new notes. I’m just kidding, I do love that goddamn book.”

Despite the fact that Andrea’s nuclear family is central to the show, I’m Sorry is far from a family sitcom. Andrea and her writing partner Kyle (Jason Mantzoukas) trade barbs with the best of them. They have known each other for years and are most often vehemently defend their opinions to each other like two siblings who refuse to admit defeat. Kathy Baker and Martin Mull pop up as Andrea’s divorced parents Sharon and Martin. And though I still have trouble accepting Baker as anything other than the hook hand from Boston Public, she is hilarious as a parent and confidant to Andrea. Sharon is up for anything so long as she arrives home in time to feed her husband, Leon. Leon’s impending demise and Martin waiting in the wings for Sharon provides one of the funniest long running throwaway storylines. Because Leon is perfectly healthy.

Andrea gets herself into a borderline high number of unbelievable and very awkward situations, but her hilarious attempts to extract herself from said situations more than make up for the stretch in reality. She's doing her best to overcome the immaturity that, let's face it, is often more fun than that adulting business.  There's a little bit of Andrea in all of us. How can you not relate to a person who's first act after her family leaves the house for the weekend is to gleefully drop her pants...to do some household chores the way God intended: comfortably. 

The Kitch Lit Series: In Over My Head

My diversion to Hogwarts put a pause on the Kitch Lit series, but the purple-spined Cooking with Fernet Branca by James Hamilton-Paterson called out to me from the bookshelf so loudly that I had to listen.

Cooking with Fernet Branca is kitch lit adjacent, with a healthy spoonful of satire thrown in. Gerald, an Englishman who makes his living as a ghostwriter for sports stars and celebrities, acquires a house in the hills of Tuscany hoping to find inspiration in the solitude. Gerald’s isolation is quickly disrupted by the arrival of Marta, a composer who hails from a fictitious Soviet country. Cue the culture clash. 

One such clash is Marta and Gerald’s opposing culinary sensibilities. Gerald fancies himself a gourmand and finds Marta’s hearty, winter survival dishes far beneath him. Gerald’s recipes err more on the unique side, garlic ice cream anyone? But one thing the two share? A penchant for drinking Fernet Branca. If not the drink itself, at least the effect of the drink.  

Hamilton-Paterson uses alternating perspectives, switching narration every other chapter. We learn about Gerald and Marta through their own eyes and through the eyes of the other. It’s a smart technique that serves to underscore Gerald and Marta’s differences. The actual plot of the novel is a bit loose. Boy bands, mafia-esque crime families and the filming of a movie that turns out to be essentially soft-core porn all come into play. Hamilton-Paterson is a great writer. His prose flows beautifully. And while I appreciated that aspect of the book, I could not shake the feeling that true enjoyment of the novel's satire was floating over my head, just out of reach of actual comprehension. I will gladly admit intellectual defeat when it happens and, in this case, Hamilton-Paterson has crafted a story that I am not cut out to appreciate. Cooking with Fernet Branca is not a bad book, but I do not share enough similarities with the upper-crust Fraiser Cranes of the world to truly enjoy it. I am happily back in Hogwarts now, reading at the middle school level to which I am clearly more suited.