As I said, I’m done with studio classes for the year. The last scene I worked on this year involved me giving the gift of a porcelain horse to my wife. The scene never went very well, and eventually the horse became the bane of my existence. Naturally, to celebrate the ending of a long year, my scene partner and I decimated the horse after our last class.
Look at this! Weird, right? I went to a baseball game with my aunt. I’m told it was a Mets game, and that we lost. Despite the rainy weather, it was a pleasant experience. We arrived in the last few innings of the double header, so we got to watch the grounds crew clean up the field before our game. This was arguably my favorite part. They are a very thorough bunch.
I meant to put this up much earlier, but it has been a crazy couple of weeks. I just had my last day of studio yesterday, which means all that is between myself and home is a paper and a final. Two weekends ago I went to the Frick with my aunt, who visited for the weekend. My very first trip to New York was with her, so it was really special to be together in the city again. It’s a small museum, which used to be the estate of the Frick family. Photography isn’t allowed, so you’ll have to take my word that it is a beautiful place.
Spotted the LOST numbers while out and about.
This weekend I visited the Guggenheim with my aunt (more on that later). The one other time I had been there, it was under construction, and we could only see the first two floors. This time I got to see the whole thing, so we took the elevator to the top and walked down the spiral. It’s a beautiful and impressive space, but the main exhibit, John Chamberlain’s Choices, was fairly one-note. We breezed through the museum fairly quickly, wondering just how many times a man could crumple up a car and call it art.
Ducks and boats out in full force on a perfect Saturday afternoon in Central Park.
Billboard artwork as seen from the High Line.
I just have three weeks left in the city before I come home for the summer. My massive least of need-to-see theatre has been whipped into submission over the past several weeks, and I’m happy to announce I just have five shows remaining. It’s possible.
This past Wednesday, I saw Leap of Faith. It’s a new musical based on a Steve Martin movie from the early 90s. The score is by Alan Menken, making him one of a handful of composers to ever have three shows running on Broadway at once. (Leap of Faith, Newsies, Sister Act.) There were two main reasons I went: First, Menken’s score, which was exciting, though not his best work. Second was the opportunity to hear that score sung by the tremendous Raúl Esparza. (Bored? Here are some great Raúl moments.) I had heard some horrifying things going into it, but I was happily disproved. Is the show good? No. The story is ridiculous, and the book does nothing to add any sort of depth. Are the songs great? Not really, no. But despite all this, I still had an inexplicably fun time. Every fiber of my being wanted to hate it, but I just couldn’t. I’m not sure if that’s a ringing endorsement, but I really had an unusually good time.
What I’m really excited to talk about, however, is what I saw on Saturday: Peter and the Starcatcher. It’s based on a book by the same name (though pluralized), and it’s coming to Broadway after an off-Broadway run. The show is completely beautiful. Without a doubt, it deserves the Tony for Best Play. Christian Borle, who you might know, unfortunately, from Smash, was explosively wonderful as Black Stache, and Celia Keenan-Bolger was beyond adorable as Molly. It’s everything a good play should be: hilarious and heart-breaking and theatrical and whimsical and imaginative and exciting. I pray to the theatre gods that it finds some kind of audience on The Broadway.
