Not a Shaggy Dog Story

Huzzah! Mark Haddon has won the Whitbread for The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time.

I read this book about two months ago, and I loved it - it was one of the best novels I'd read in quite some time. Christopher, the 15-year-old autistic narrator, is an engaging presence, and by the end of his tale, you'll want to hug him (but you shouldn't, because it will upset him). Go to Amazon right now and buy it. You won't be sorry.

A Remembrance of Jack Paar

Why doesn't Dick Cavett write more? (Or if he does, why does no one bring it to my attention?) I know almost nothing about Jack Paar, and now I miss his presence.

Sigh.

Welcome to the Machine

Looks like London may get a taste of last year's Broadway musicans strike....

Thought on Valhalla

What do King Ludwig II and a small town in Texas have in common? Not much, as it turns out. So goes Valhalla, the new play by Paul Rudnick; it's an often funny piece of sound and fury signifying nothing.

Don't get me wrong - I don't mind a fun night out at theater, and I've enjoyed Rudnick's previous work. (I still giggle over the Stage Manager in The Most Fabulous Story Ever Told.) Valhalla seems to be striving for some Big Meaning in the twinned stories of fabulous, gay Ludwig and fabulous, gay James Avery that never quite comes across. I'm not certain what connection exists between these two characters, although the plays veers into I Am My Own Wife territory when the eccentric German inspires the contemporary protagonist. I kept expecting miniature furniture, but it never appeared.

However, director Christopher Ashley has assembed a crack cast of comic actors, and the production as a whole is charming, if slight. Peter Frechette is fantastic, and Sean Dugan makes a wonderful bad boy, even if he does look disarmingly like a young Paul McCrane. He's Montgomery MacNeil with a police record.

Dean Remix

Thanks to No Treason and James Lilek's remix ability, I've nearly wet my Dean-lovin' pants. Thanks y'all!

Talk Amongst Yourselves

It's curtains for Taboo on February 8th.

What can I say about Taboo that hasn't already been said, mainly in the New York Post? The songs are lovely, the book's a mess, Euan Morton and Raul Esparza are fabu, and Boy George can't act. It's a missed opportunity on all levels. I heard a rumor that a downscaled version of the show may open off-Broadway later this year, but I'm not holding my breath.

On a slight tangent, the experience of watching an actor portray Boy George while standing next to the actual Boy George has me thinking about representation, reality, and perception, and leads me to this: why isn't there a book about philosophy and the Broadway musical? With essays like "Eternal Recurrence: The Turntable and Time in Les Miserables"?

Any potential contributors, please email me.

And What About Anybodys?

Thanks to Mermaniac and The Minor Fall, The Major Lift for weighing in on the battle between Arthur Laurents and James McCourt over the encoded homosexuality of West Side Story.

"Encoding is not about intent of writer. Queer encoding is the unconscious insertion of traces of ambiguity in any artistic statement." How do you argue with that logic?

I can't wait to hear McCourt's opinion of the new Mario Lanza musical.

A Rose By Any Other Name

Town Online gives the Baseball Hall of Fame some curatorial advice.

Back in Black

Black coffee, that is.

After a one-month hiatus, the Jess is back. I took a little vacation, and then I attended the APAP conference, which involves seeing many productions and showcases in a very short time. Turns out that when one APAPs too much, one is apooped.

No, the jokes haven't gotten any better.

I've seen many fine productions recently, including Henry IV, Anna Bella Eema, and Dancing Henry Five. Also, I caught the closing performance of Continental Divide in San Francisco; Mothers Against may be the best play about the campaign process I've ever seen.