[title of blog post]

We don't even get through Lockstock's first line of the Urinetown script before we understand there is something unusual going on:

..."Urinetown 'the place' is...well, it's a place you'll hear people referring to a lot throughout the show."

Lockstock breaks the fourth wall immediately, and not only begins to narrate, but also acknowledges that we are about to see a show, with scenes and two acts, that Lockstock may or may not be part of.  Little Sally and Lockstock go on to have a conversation about the appropriate amount of plot exposition that is appropriate for an opening musical number.  This idea of standing outside the plot device, and commenting on it, is called self-reference, and has been used more and more frequently in Broadway's post-modern era.

Urinetown is a consummate example of the self-referential musical.  Half of my posts so far have dealt with the various theatrical traditions that Urinetown is knowingly commenting on, and there are many much smaller self-referential moments as well:  Bobby comments on the lighting he is standing in; Little Sally comments on the number of lines she has been given; Lockstock comments on the theatrical device of moving in slow-motion (while he is himself moving in slow-motion).  Urinetown references itself so often, it could reasonably be accused of narcissism.

But Urinetown at least pretends to have a meaningful plot, with an overall message.  Some post-modern musicals in recent years hardly even bother.

The navel-gazing gets so out of control in 2008's [title of show] that it's hard to know at any given time whether you are inside or outside of the plot (if that phrase even has any meaning here).  [title of show] tells the history of its own creation:  two guys writing a musical about two guys writing a musical about two guys writing a musical about... you get the idea.

This small  musical is written for the serious theatre geek. (In the first five minutes you get a reference to Henry, Sweet Henry, a failed little musical that opened in 1967.  I don't know anyone who would get that joke.)  To be fair, even if you don't get all the jokes and references (and you won't), it's still not a bad little show.  It's title, [title of show], refers to one of the blanks in the form you have to fill out to apply to bring a show to the New York Musical Theatre Festival.  And yes, [title of show] actually opened off-Broadway at the New York Theatre Festival.  And it's another rare example of an off-Broadway production making the transition to a Broadway opening. Being small and self-referential appears to be the ticket out of off-Broadway. Here's a flavor:

Another self-referential musical, which met with somewhat less success, was The Musical of Musicals (The Musical!), 2003.  This one started on off-Broadway - and stayed there.  The amalgam of self-reference and parody was staged in five acts.  Each act was designed to parody a particular musical composer or composer/lyricist team, all with the same basic melodrama plotline:  I can't pay the rent!  The five acts include:

Corn!   
An homage to Rodgers and Hammerstein shows (Oklahoma!, Sound of Music, South Pacific, Cinderella), which includes a wish song and a dream ballet.

A Little Complex
A parody of Stephen Sondheim musicals, featuring New York neurotics, alcoholism, depression and murder, but no happy ending.

Dear Abby
A comment on Jerry Herman musicals (Hello Dolly, Mame), featuring a plucky older woman whose advice, given between many costume changes, makes everyone's lives better.

Aspects of Junita
A send-up of Andrew Lloyd Webber musicals (Evita, Sunset Boulevard, Cats, Phantom of the Opera), featuring a pop-opera score, an aging diva, and a falling chandelier.

Speakeasy
A Kander and Ebb homage, mainly to Chicago and Cabaret, set in a 1930s speakeasy. Everyone sings about how depressing life is while wearing skimpy clothing.

Musical of Musical frequently crosses over the line from self-reference into outright parody, which may be part of the reason that the musical only lives on in sountrack form.  But I can't leave this discussion without mentioning the single-most famous show of the last 30 years that continues to brutally (and lovingly) parody the Broadway musical:  Forbidden Broadway.

Forbidden Broadway isn't really theatrical show; it's actually a four-person musical revue, originally staged in the backroom of a Manhattan restaurant in 1982, which pokes fun of the current slate of Broadway offerings.  The revue changes from year to year, with a steady mix of old standards and new targets.  Each of its songs are parodies of Broadway shows, re-written with rapier wit, and hilarious intentions.  Performing for over thirty years now, over 12 cast recordings have been published.  If you enjoy a good parody, and are a fan of Broadway, I can strongly recommend listening your way through a couple of these.  I was lucky enough to see the original incarnation of the show in the mid-eighties, when some of the current shows being skewered at the time included:  Amadeus, Pirates of Penzance, and Evita.

After taking a short break last year, Forbidden Broadway is back, and is now housed at the Davenport theatre.  They've come up with hundreds of great parodies (and some not so good) over the years, but if you've never heard their style, here's their extended riff on the two female leads of Wicked, 2003:

Enjoy!

Out On The Fringe

Every year in August, an unfortunate group of original plays and musicals are produced in various theatrical venues in lower Manhattan, which are collectively called the New York International Fringe Festival.  This has been going on for the last 18 years or so, and seems to be the annual magnet that brings together the most self-indulgent, undercooked, weird, irony-dependent, reference-driven, hack pieces of theatre that the Western world has ever known.  If you've ever spent any time in New York, you have undoubtedly met or bumped into someone whose brother was "bringing another one of his wacky scripts to life this year at the Fringe". Everyone has a friend who begs you to come see them this year in their Fringe performance of a suicidal rockhopper in "Flightless South: One Penguin's Odyssey through Music".  OK, I made that one up, but here's an actual list of recent and upcoming Fringe festival offerings, which you can actually look up if you don't believe me:

Theatre for the Arcade:  Five Classic Video Games Adapted for the Stage

Jersey Shoresical:  A Frickin' Rock Opera

Infectious Opportunity, the story of a man who fakes having AIDS for fame and fortune

Silence! the Musical

Flaccid Penis Seeks Vaginal Dryness

Alienne:  The Musical Adventures of My Little Martian

The Boston Tea Party Opera

Depression: The Musical

F**k You! You F**king Perv!, a solo performance featuring tap dancing

Gary Busey's One Man Hamlet, (Gary Busey was not involved with this production)

The Internet!: A Complete History (Abridged)

Pickles & Hargraves and the Curse of the Tanzanian Glimmerfish, about a mouse detective

Seven Seductions of Taylor Swift

It is from this muculent swamp of storytelling that once crawled the Fringe festival's one and only hit:  Urinetown: The Musical.  Clearly, it's title belongs in the above list.  In 1999, Urinetown was such an overwhelming success that it ultimately made the incredibly rare transfer to Broadway in 2001.  The Fringe has been trying to recreate that lightning strike every year since, and has never come close.  But hopes were high back in the summer of 2011.

In August of 2011, Urinetown's original creators, Greg Kotis and Mark Hollmann, returned to the Fringe with a fresh new show: Yeast Nation.  See the parallel?  (First word of title: a disgusting biological substance [Urine/Yeast]; second word of title: social organizational structure [Town/Nation]).  Uh-oh.

In spite of the similarity in titles, Yeast Nation isn't really a sequel; it's more of a prequel, actually.  It tells the tale of a the prehistoric collection of yeast and other organisms that first formed themselves from the primordial soup on the ocean floor.  All of the characters play yeast, and dress in white robes.  Sweet mercy.

If you haven't heard of Yeast Nation, there's a reason.  It will not be touring.  For all the cleverness of Kotis and Hollmann in creating the Urinetown script and score, they are almost certainly destined to go down in history as one-hit wonders, unable to capitalize on, or grow past, their initial success.  Still, the Fringe festival keeps trying, each year with renewed attempts to find that rare hit show, the elusive Bigfoot of Broadway.  And you never know. Expectations are high for the upcoming, Adventures of Swamp Girl.  Hope springs eternal.

POST-SCRIPT:

Although the Fringe festival has come under a fair amount of derision from me in this post, they did, in my opinion, demonstrate a particularly brave moment a few years ago that you might appreciate, too.  You may recall from my previous post, A Legal Matter, that back in 2006 the director and choreographer of the 2001 Broadway production of Urinetown sued two small regional theatre companies for plagiarising their material.  Right after they filed suit, the original director and choreographer of the 1999 Fringe Festival production of Urinetown, Joe McDonnell, sued the Broadway team, for plagiarising his material.  He didn't really expect to win anything; he just wanted to make a statement, and point out what nearly everyone was already thinking - those Broadway guys are behaving like jerks.  Having a Fringe festival alumni sue a Broadway production team for plagiarism while the Broadway team was doing the same is exactly the kind of sweet irony that Urinetown is known for in the first place.  Did Joe McDonnell have a case?  You decide:

And Pound Foolish

Mrs. Peachum, a character invented by Bertolt Brecht for Threepenny Opera, is an older woman with questionable morals, and an even more questionable past, who ultimately plays an important role in bringing down yet another crooked character in the show.  If any of this sounds remotely familiar, it should.

Miss Penelope Pennywise (note the naming connection with Threepenny Opera) parallels all of these same character traits, and even a similar story arc.  In Act I we are introduced to Pennywise's authoritarian streak, and we root for Bobby to rise up against her iron grip on Public Amenity #9.  But in Act II, we see more of her backstory - a hidden connection to Cladwell, and ultimately, a willingness to help put things right.

While Pennywise owes her persona most directly to Mrs. Peachum, the character trope of the amoral but practical older woman runs richly throughout the American Musical tradition.  Who can forget Mrs. Lovett, (Sweeney Todd, 1979), who packs pussy-cats, priests, and politicians into pungent pies, to perform pious paybacks? Or Fraulein Schneider (Cabaret, 1966), a harsh hotelier, who hesitates to get hitched to a Hebrew because of her hatred of hostile hectoring? Or Joanne (Company, 1970), a drunken divorcee, who in denial of duty, has designs on adultery with a dashing dude?  I could go on, but I'm running out of consonants.

Pennywise's opening anthem, A Privilege to Pee, not only explains her basic character traits, but also provides some needed exposition of the pee-for-fee arrangement of Public Amenity #9.  It's perhaps the most difficult song to sing in the entire Urinetown score, and it's always a challenge to find a good character actress who also has those shattering top notes.  We're looking forward to hearing Ellen Puhalovich push the piercing peals of A Privilege to Pee in a plucky performance of prickly petulance.

Peace.

Immersive Theatre

As we have already discussed, Urinetown had its Broadway opening in Henry Miller's Theatre on West 43rd Street in the fall of 2001.  It closed in the fall of 2004 after a successful run of 965 performances.  And it was the last show to be performed on the Henry Miller stage before this theatre was torn down.

Set for One, Two Three, Henry Miller's Theatre, 1930

Actually,  Henry Miller's Theatre had sort of a complicated history before Urinetown moved in. The theatre was originally constructed way back in 1918, the design of an actor named Henry Miller (not the same guy who wrote Tropic of Cancer).  It enjoyed its golden years between 1930 and 1960, but after that was only used sporadically, and began to fall into disrepair.  It closed in the 1960s, and became a porno film theatre for a while called Avon on the Hudson. In 1978 it became a discotheque named Xenon, and in the mid-eighties, a dance club called Shout. By this time, the space was incredibly dilapidated; the theatre walls had been stripped down to their base, and all of the electrical and plumbing conduits were visible against a stained and blackened background.

This wasn't the type of theatre that patrons expect to see when paying top dollar for a Broadway show, but the Roundabout theatre company opened its production of Cabaret there in 1998, keeping all of the disgusting ambiance intact.  It seemed to work with the theme of the show. Roundabout followed that with their Broadway incarnation of Urinetown, which was even more at home in the wreckage that the Henry Miller theatre had become.

It was here that I first saw the show, and when I first walked in I assumed that the theatre designers had completely redone the house with faux finishes to match the grime of the Urinetown set.  I actually walked over and inspected the wall, trying to figure out how they had replicated the look of a dilapidated theatre so realistically.  I didn't realize until later that it was all real.

The ruins of the Henry Miller were a happy accident for Urinetown, but once in a while, a Broadway house will be reconstructed to immerse the audience more fully in the setting for a particular production.  This famously was the case for the production of Cats, which opened in the Winter Garden Theatre in 1982. The designer, John Napier, wanted the audience to feel completely immersed in the atmosphere of the junkyard where the cats congregated.  So he constructed an oversized-scale version of the junkyard (giant tires, milk crates, etc.) that extended well into the house, and surrounded several sections of seats, making the audience feel the same size as the dancing cats they were about to see.

We can't spray paint the entire house of the Brooks auditorium, but there are still some things we plan to do to increase the immersive experience of Urinetown for our audiences.  To begin with, our lighting will be somewhat dimmer (not completely dark) as the crowds enter, to accentuate the fact that searchlights will occasionally be used to make sure that our audiences are behaving themselves, and to weed out the dissidents.  We won't have an optimistic audio track of previous BRAVO shows playing in the background; instead, we'll hear only the occasional echoing dripping sounds from the inside of a sewer, punctuated by the occasional totalitarian directive issued by loudspeaker.  And we plan to use both Lockstock and Barrel as "ushers" of a sort, maintaining order, and dispensing some gentle police brutality where appropriate.

Eventually, the 57-story Bank of America Tower was constructed in the former footprint of the Henry Miller theatre, and a brand new Broadway house was constructed on the first floors of the building, christened the Stephen Sondheim Theatre.  The old facade of the Henry Miller is the only piece of the original structure that remains.

Messy Staging

We're only a few days away from our first rehearsal, and busily getting ready for your arrival.  One of the important things that I like to do in advance of any rehearsal, is to map out a fairly detailed staging plan for the entire show, for each actor.  Although this plan will will be subject to massive change by the time we open, it at least gives us a starting point, and makes an efficient use of our time during our first rehearsals.  But before you start to think that this process is free from chaos, I am attaching one page of the Urinetown script that I used the last time I directed this show.  As you can see, the artistic process is a messy one; you're each going to be bringing your unique talents and perspectives to the production, which will necessitate many, many changes to my naive "plan".  For now, I just wanted you to know that we're thinking about you, and really looking forward to getting started!

A Legal Matter

For those of you who appreciate legal issues, the history of Urinetown offers a unique and interesting chapter in theatrical litigation history. And it gives us an opportunity to think about the concept of plagiarism, especially as it relates to theatrical productions.

As most of you probably already know, the script and score for Broadway musicals aren't free; not only do you have to rent or purchase the scripts and vocal books for the show, you also have to pay for the right to do the show, typically in the form of royalties, some percentage of the ticket price your theatre will be charging. These royalties are paid to the original show's authors (or their estates) to compensate them for using their copyrighted work.

Music Theatre International (MTI) is the licensing agent for Urinetown.  That means that Ovation will be paying a sum of money to MTI for the right to mount this show here in Oak Park. Every single performance of Urinetown (outside the original Broadway production) is required to pay for these rights, and to acknowledge in its program that the original book and music were created by Greg Kotis and Mark Hollmann.

In 2006, an unusual lawsuit was filed by the original creative team of Urinetown.  The year before, a Chicago production team purchased the licensing rights to perform Urinetown at the Mercury Theatre, one of the first professional productions of Urinetown to be mounted in Chicago.  The Chicago creative team used the same script and music, and produced a version of Urinetown that was very similar to the Broadway production, albeit on a somewhat smaller scale.

The Broadway creative team sued the Chicago team (and a similar production team in Ohio), arguing that the Chicago team had only purchased the rights to the script and music, but that they had essentially copied many other elements of the production as well:  choreography, costume design, lighting design, staging and direction.  No such lawsuit like this had ever before been filed.  This lawsuit made national news, and was followed very closely by the theatrical community.  If the federal court ruled that all of the ancillary production elements were also protected by copyright (even though no copyright had ever been issued for these elements), then the future of all non-Broadway theatre would be radically changed.

I have fairly strong opinions on this matter, as a director that wantonly steals (I mean, borrows) good ideas from other directors, choreographers, and designers.  In fact, I contend that it is impossible to recreate a faithful version of any Broadway show without some degree of replication of the original elements.  Broadway is more than just a script and score; it is a visual medium, and both the script and the score depend upon proper staging to make a show work.

Let's look at an example.  During the Act I finale of Urinetown, Bobby Strong rallies the crowds to revolt against the tyranny of the UGC corporation.  At a very specific moment, the music builds to a crescendo, and then breaks into a military march, with lyrics that would be at home in any revolutionary hymn. The music was deliberately written this way to accommodate a joke in the original staging.  At this moment, the crowds began waving signs, and replicated the stationary "march" from Les Miserables, complete with a waving red flag.  The Chicago production recreated the idea of the Les Miz march, and the Broadway team used this as evidence of blatant plagiarism of direction and choreography.

Was it?  The music clearly signals a revolutionary style at that point in the show, and it is clear that the music had been written to support this exact parody of Les Miz.  This moment gets one of the biggest laughs in the show.  Could it be staged in some other way?  Of course, but that misses the point.  If you want to produce Urinetown, wouldn't it be reasonable to capture all of its best parodies and jokes, including one joke skewering Les Miz, even if the Les Miz reference isn't explicitly indicated in the script?  I think yes.

If the federal court ruled against the Chicago team what would that mean?  Could you imaging staging Peter Pan without flying Peter through the central nursery windows? Giving Tracy Turnblad some other hairstyle than her iconic flip, or Annie without her final red perm?  Staging 42nd Street without tap dancing?  Joseph without a multi-colored coat? Theoretically, none of these would be possible (without additional licensing fees) if the Broadway team had a court rule in their favor.

It has long been understood that set designs are copyrighted materials, as are a show's script and score.  Copyrights are actually filed for these production elements by their creators, specifically in order to protect them.  Costume designers, lighting designers, choreographers, and directors have never filed copyrights for their work.  I think this is a clear indication that these elements were considered ripe for replication, and an obvious expectation on their creators' part.  The Chicago production team agreed with me, and argued to the court that since Urinetown was so full of theatrical parody, that it was impossible to produce without a certain degree of replication, and that these elements were not protected by copyright in any case.

I find it particularly ironic that the original production team of Urinetown, a show which blatantly steals from dozens of shows in an effort to parody them, judged themselves abused when their own work was in turn copied and interpreted.

I wish I could tell you who won the lawsuit, but I can't.  It settled out of court before a verdict could be reached, and so it remains anyone's guess whether or not these ancillary production elements can be considered to be protected intellectual property.  The legal community was disappointed in the result, but will simply have to wait for the next lawsuit to be filed.  In the meantime, watch out if you plan to steal any of Urinetown's original staging ideas (I do).

Fifty Shades of Gay

We've talked on now for a bit about the influences on Urinetown from both the African-American and Jewish-American traditions, so it's time to set our targets on another important minority group:  Homosexual-Americans.  I know that this is beginning to sound like the beginning of an incredibly offensive joke:  Into a bar walks a cripple, a black, two gays, and a Jew...

Gay men have comprised an inordinately high percentage of Broadway's singers, dancers, directors, choreographers and designers; it's difficult, if not impossible to ignore how Broadway itself addressed this issue, starting in the late 60s and early 70s.

It seems self-evident that if there is any place on earth that ought to be safe for a homosexual, it ought to be the Broadway stage.  And in many ways, that's true.  Broadway's treatment of homosexuality came out of the closet way earlier than that of either film or TV, but not always in the most progressive ways. Broadway's first openly gay character was that of Sebastian Baye in Coco, 1969.  A musical adaptation of the life of Coco Channel (starring Katherine Hepburn, of all people, in a musical), the show was poorly reviewed, and didn't last too long.  It may have been the first to feature a gay character, but as expected, Sebastian was portrayed in an incredibly hateful manner, as a stereotypical rude fashion designer.

This was followed the very next year by Applause, 1970 (another show you probably don't need to ever see), based upon the 1950 film All About Eve.  Here we meet Duane, a gay hairdresser, still playing to type, but at least this character was likeable. Applause starred another female film star not typically known for her vocal abilities:  Lauren Bacall.  And for you connoisseurs of gay stage history, Applause was also the first Broadway show to feature a scene set inside a gay bar.  Times, they was a-changin'.

A few years later, Tommy Tune won a Tony award for his portrayal of an openly gay choreographer in Seesaw, 1973, continuing our list of shows that you will probably never see, the omission of which should never bother you.  In the early 70s, a raft of shows with gay themes started to appear, but most of them were mounted off-Broadway, well outside the mainstream consciousness.  It wasn't until 1975 that the gay experience came crashing through the door of a genuine Broadway hit:  A Chorus Line.

A Chorus Line, 1975 was the first Broadway book musical to allow its gay characters to discuss, in both song and dialogue, the sexual aspects of their lives. Marvin Hamlisch's brainchild, the show portrays 17 dancers auditioning for a spot in the chorus of a Broadway production, and delves into each of their backstories.  It was groundbreaking at the time for showing both the joy and the heartbreak involved in living a life on the stage.  It ran for 15 years in the same theatre, and won a slew of awards.  To be gay was beginning to be mainstream, at least in the narrow world of Broadway.

But even A Chorus Line couldn't reasonably be called a gay show, though it featured some gay characters.  Charles Strouse and Alan Jay Lerner came a little closer with 1983's Dance A Little Closer, featuring Broadway's first romantic homosexual couple, who even exchange marriage vows.  The composer of Annie, and the lyricist of My Fair Lady;  I can hear you asking, "why haven't I heard of this show?"  Because Dance A Little Closer was dreadful, and it closed after one performance.  (During previews, it was known as Close A Little Faster.) 

Still, it had a few interesting songs that it seems a shame to waste.  In spite of the fact its opening night was its closing, somehow a cast recording still got made, even though it is out of print and hard to find. As a special treat, I give you the rarely heard, first gay duet performed on a Broadway stage, sung by a couple of male flight attendants in love (stereo-typing again).  Here's Why Can't the World Go and Leave Us Alone?:

In a way, it's a good thing that Dance A Little Closer closed so quickly; only a few short months later, Broadway debuted its first completely gay-themed musical, and this one was a hit:  La Cage Aux Folles, 1983, the Jerry Herman extravaganza.  For the first time, blue-haired ladies who never would have gone to see "gay theatre" cheered for the story of a middle-aged gay couple struggling with homophobic in-laws, and for the defiant gay anthem I Am What I Am. Watching George Hearn perform this song during the Tony Awards that year was one of the all-time electrifying moments in Broadway history, and I was glad to have seen it live.  Here's George for those that have never seen him perform this signal song:




After La Cage, a raft of shows opened on Broadway which contained gay themes, without apology. Falsettoland 1990; Kiss of the Spiderwoman, 1992; Hedwig and the Angry Inch, 1998; The Boy From Oz, 2003; Kinky Boots, 2012.  These musicals portrayed homosexuality as simply another facet in the complex prism of life, and never poked fun of gay men in an unflattering way.  I am pleased to say that Urinetown avoids this easy slandering as well, and some might not even notice the placement of at least one gay character among the groupies in Cladwell's retinue.  The script gives him no room to hide, however, as we have already discussed Urinetown's naming conventions, and we can easily identify the gay sycophant in the un-subtly named, McQueen.

Modern theatre so commonly includes gay themes today that Broadway has taken it upon itself to poke fun of its commonality.  Here's the opening number from the 2011 Tony Awards, hosted by Neil Patrick Harris.  Enjoy!