“THE MOST ROMANTIC,” “The best musical,” and “A triumph;” were just some of the descriptions about the musical that kept flashing on a mounted television screen inside the prodigious theater. The weather outside was brisk—-while the polyphonic theater goers partially waited inside the theater for their tickets to be scanned. For the ones who did not fully make it into the theater to get their tickets scanned first, they, and although it was windy outside of the theater, were at least being dazzled by the dancing of dead fall leaves in the streets.
As I stood idly behind the “Coat-Check” area, I happily observed one of the usher captains chiming the golden dinner bells—-signaling that the show was about to begin and that it was okay to start scanning the tickets of the theater goers. And here they come! Like impatient children awaiting their turn, the massive crowd of theater goers rushed to get their tickets scanned by the security guards. And as the security guards rapidly scanned their tickets, all I kept hearing was Beep! Beep! Beep!
Inside the theater was warm and cozy. More than once, I gayfully observed the chandelier swirling gently from to and fro. And there, on the top balcony, majestic red curtains veiled our high-end members from what seemed like debauchery happening below them; the distant and inaudible chattering of newcomers, with their tall, skinny glasses of champaine, gathering around each other like wolve packs pretending to have class and discussing their theatrical expectations.
Something is different about these massive crowds of people but I can’t quite figure it out—-Ah, that’s it! they are not all well-dressed. A majority of them were wearing jackets with plain trousers and plain shoes. Only a handful of the ladies were wearing their high hills and gorgeous dresses; coupled with their male counterparts whom wore their best suits and fancy ties—-but, unfortunately, they were outnumbered by the majority of under-dressed theater goers. Gone, I tell you, are the days when people dressed their best to see a play/or musical.
While in the theater, and although what we were watching was visually appealing, I must say, that sometimes the loud musical renditions of George Gershwin was a little annoying because it kept drowning out the beautiful, angelic voices of the performers. Also, the irritably weak French accents of the performers made me want to look for the nearest exit doors and shout out angrily, “Pourquoi?!” In addition to the terrible French accents, the stage kept changing too rapidly and the plot was too hard to follow sometimes. Around this time, I remembered one performer saying to another performer, “I want everything to stop changing so often and so swiftly,” and I quietly said to myself, “yes, me too!”
Instead of me doing a poor job of capturing the essence of the musical that I myself and the audiences were watching, I am going to allow someone else to describe the musical for you, Scott Renshaw, an art and entertainment editor; “Jerry Mulligan, a struggling American painter in Paris, is “discovered” by an influential heiress with an interest in more than Jerry’s art. Jerry in turn falls for Lise, a young French girl already engaged to a cabaret singer. Jerry jokes, sings and dances with his best friend, an acerbic would-be concert pianist, while romantic complications abound.”
Although on the surface that might have sounded like a perfect virtuoso of marveling delights and romantic gesticulations, below the surface, though it was not that dazzling. In fact, there were times when I was utterly bored and disgusted at the constant subtle reminders of romantic love. And I know Paris is the city of love and boundless passions, but honestly, the constant reminder and centering of the whole notion of love—as if to suggest that it was the only solution to the uncertainties of life—was just way over the top. It became like a cliché, almost.
Despite those minor and manageable observations, I found the transitions—from one scene or one choreography to the other—to be rather fluent. And the lighting on the performers coupled with the illuminations of the stage was just the perfect amount. In short, the musical score, the angelic vocals, and the breathtakingly stunning choreographies were not only perfect but they made the entire musical worth it. And I would suggest for you to go see the musical for yourself, but yesterday was the last day that it played at our Shea’s theater. And before I go, I must say, that Ballet, and those who make it look so easy, must be the mellifluous and elegant reincarnations of Gods.
Facebook | Instagram | Twitter