"It was Joe's idea to have hands, and the assistant choreographer Michael Lee Scott came up with the idea of how to execute it," said Rudetsky, passing the credit along.
Schwartz had been prepared slightly for the spoofing. On entering the theatre, he said, "They're doing 'Magic To Do' tonight, but I have no idea what they're doing, and I insisted on being surprised." He was that—delightfully so, reveling gleefully in the bit.
Similarly, Schwartz has no idea—and wants no idea—of what's in store for him when he is saluted Friday at Town Hall. What he does know is he has a new movie coming out: "Alan Menken and I wrote five songs for a movie opening Nov. 21 called 'Enchanted.'"
Meanwhile, back at the race, Chamberlin gets a real workout leading such a merry chase. His breathing was back to normal by the time he reached the party. What's the hardest part of his role? He can get it in two words: "The stairs. I do 140 steps every night. Brutal. Look at me. Am I used to doing a lot of steps? That's my massage therapist over there."
Kerr, the wiry gnat in hot-and-cold running pursuit of Horton the Elephant, seconded that motion: "It's fun, but it is work. It's climbing those stairs. And as everything got tighter, we had to do things tighter."
"The play," continued Kerr, "is a lark. It's loud and silly, fast and funny, and it doesn't get too deep about anything. We're very silly backstage, and we just carry it on stage."
He said all this as he talks in the play—in an unswervingly straight, unaccented comic voice—but Riordan, who affects the falsetto, drops down to his normal register when the curtain comes down. He insisted he's not breaking anything going for that high pitch—"I actually found a very comfortable area where I can sustain the character and not hurt myself"—and he happily noted the actors that manfully preceded him in the part, Stephen Collins in the play, Treat Williams in the film—"Treat, luckily, didn't have to do it to a 1,000-seat audience. He had to do it for the camera."
Venito was very mindful of the fella who originated his role of the pistol-packing brother-in-law. "Jerry Stiller is a tough act to follow," he allowed, "but it's been a blast. When you get to do a play written by Terrence McNally and directed by Joe Mantello, and it's your Broadway debut, you're doing something right, you know what I'm saying?"
Ashlie Atkinson, who plays Venito's sister and Chamberlin's wife (she shows up for the final round of races), is one of 15 Broadway debuts being made in this production. "I did The 24-Hour Plays on Broadway as a one-night special benefit, but I'm not counting it."
She's scrupulously avoided the movie in which Kaye Ballard re-created the wife role she originated in the play. "From what I know about Kaye Ballard, I could never be her, so I just do what I can do. I've heard such great things about her performance, though."
Playgirl centerfold Ryan Idol, in his Broadway bow, brings some presence and authenticity to the premises as a customer identified only as Crisco Patron. "I was in Playbill for my first Off-Broadway performance—Making Porn—downtown, and now this. I'm euphoric right now. This whole trip uptown is a dream come true for me."
What nudity there is in the show qualifies as flashing (if that) and is executed by the very young. Billy Magnussen, for instance, four months out of North Carolina School of the Arts—Mantello's alma mater, maybe not so incidentally. "I'm one of the boys running out of the steam room naked," he freely confessed. "You get nervous doing it the first time, but after that, it's fun." Otherwise, he's snugly attired in a turquoise Speedo or one of William Ivey Long's industrial–strength towels. "Me and my buddy, Matt[hew] Montelongo, who's the patron in chaps—every day we sat and did probably 200 sit-ups. It just inspired us to keep going to the gym." An actor prepares, as Stanislavski said.
There were plenty of directors in attendance on opening night: Michael Mayer (still idling with The Female of the Species, trying to find another Annette Bening, who doesn't come in bunches), Scott Ellis (starting previews of his Streamers revival at Hartford Stage Oct. 9), Jerry Dixon (preparing Barnstormer for Hartford Stage Nov. 3), Walter Bobbie (readying a new David Ives play for Richard Easton at the Classic Stage Company in January, called New Jerusalem —"it has some humor in it, but it's actually about Spinoza and the Jewish community in Amsterdam"), Kathleen Marshall, Moises Kaufman (who hopes to bring the play he has also written, 33 Variations, to New York next season—it opened a month ago at Arena Stage in Washington D.C.), David Grimsley (whose Pygmalion opens Thursday) and Mark Brokaw.
Raul Esparza arrived with a newly grown beard—and, no, it's not for The Homecoming. "It's called Lazy Summer. I wanted to go as far from Bobby as I could [i.e., his Tony-nominated performance in Company], and I ended up deciding not to shave. I love it." It's too elegant a beard to waste on The Homecoming. Maybe Ivanhoe or Beowulf.
Other first-nighters included Roundabout's founding father Gene Feist, Nathan Lane (bracing to do David Mamet's November for Mantello, beginning the end of . . . November), Side Man author Warren Leight, Mario Cantone (reprising his "Sex and the City" role for the movie cameras, preparing to return to Vancouver for the Anne Heche series, "Men in Trees"), Jason Butler Harner, Jon Robin Baitz, Perry Ojeda ("standing by for all the men—except Charles Busch"—in Die! Mommie, Die!, opening Oct. 21 at New World Stages), Debi Mazar, Doug Wright, Dick Scanlan, choreographer Rob Ashford (bound for La Jolla to do Cry-Baby with Harriet Harris, a new addition to the cast and a good omen for him since they both won Tonys for Thoroughly Modern Millie), Lynn Nottage, producer Sharon Fallon (who's planning Nerds: A Musical Satire—"the musical journey of Bill Gates and Steve Jobs"), Jules Fisher, Heather Randall, SSDC executives Barbara Wolkoff and Sam Bellinger, Stephen Lang, Charles Randolph Wright and a gaggle of Jessicas (Jessica Stone, Jessica Hecht and Jessica Molinsky).
Marian Seldes arrived with her frequent stage husband, Brian Murray, and was, as usual, full of the best theatrical wishes. "I never saw this play before," she admitted almost sheepishly. "I was in Equus when it first ran, and we were on the same schedule. I just want it to go great. I want it to be a wonderful night for Terrence."
I didn't doubt that for a moment. She was in his last play [Deuce]. "Oh, was I?" she replied quickly and dryly. "Was I good?"
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