Theater News

World Class

Filichia gives a full report on the 2004-2005 Theatre World Awards ceremony at Studio 54.

Celia Keenan-Bolger and Cheyenne Jackson(Photo © Michael Portantiere)
Celia Keenan-Bolger and Cheyenne Jackson
(Photo © Michael Portantiere)

Had a pretty good time at Studio 54 emceeing the 61st annual Theatre World Awards, which celebrate those making their stage debuts. Granted, some of them were already famous, thanks to Hollywood, but stage and film are very different, and — as we’ve all seen — success in one does not automatically mean success in the other. We also look for people in breakthrough roles, so if someone had previously been in Beauty and the Beast as a knife, a fork, or a refrigerator magnet, we wouldn’t hold that against him and call him ineligible. We look for performers who make us dive into our Playbills as we say to ourselves, “Who is that person?”

Lucie Arnaz started the show by mentioning how she treasured her Theatre World Award for They’re Playing Our Song because everyone had been telling her that she’d get a Tony nomination, but she didn’t. She then took a good-natured poke at Tovah Feldshuh, who got “her” nomination. (I was sitting behind her, so I couldn’t hear everything, but I think the poke was good-natured!) Arnaz brought her own Theatre World Award with her, and when Dan Fogler of Spelling Bee came up and she presented to him, they made their two awards play kissy-face — easy to do, for each has a mask of comedy on one side and tragedy on the other.

After Patricia Elliott told about the history of the awards and gave a lovely tribute to John Willis, who’s been with them since their inception in 1945, John Cullum came on. I’d mentioned how he started out in Camelot as Sir Dinadan and he said he was amazed that he got the part, given that he auditioned with “On the Street Where You Live.” He was too green to know that you don’t sing a song by the songwriters who’ve written the show for which you’re auditioning. He then sang for us another Lerner song, one he introduced in 1965: “On a Clear Day You Can See Forever.” He was in glorious voice.

Cullum presented to Jenn Harris of Modern Orthodox, who said that she once had planned to go to med school, but after her daddy saw her as Adelaide in a high school production of Guys and Dolls, he suggested that she become an actress. “He’s either clinically insane,” she said, “or it’s a blessing.”

Introducing Michael Cerveris, I pointed out that, after playing one of the most nefarious people in history (John Wilkes Booth), he’ll next play another nefarious character (Sweeney Todd), and he had just finished playing someone more nefarious than both of the above: The Devil in The Apple Tree. “How can he keep getting cast in these parts?” I asked. “He’s such a nice guy.” And, indeed, he is. When he took the stage on which he performed in Assassins last year, he said, “It’s great to be here without a weapon.” He then presented a Theatre World Award to Tyler Maynard of Altar Boyz, who said, “I have to thank God because, without Him, we wouldn’t have a show.”

Next came Joanna Gleason. I pointed out that Rocco Landesman, the ganser macher at Jujamcyn — who’s attended musicals since the ’50s, when his relatives wrote The Nervous Set — considers her performance in Into the Woods the best ever by a female actress. Her first words in that show were “I wish.” Now, in Dirty Rotten Scoundrels, her first words are “Well, merde.” “But,” I noted, “let’s not forget that ‘Merde’ also means, ‘Good luck.’ ” And it was certainly good luck for Dirty Rotten Scoundrels to nab Gleason. She said she’d done the research and found that, nine months to the day after she received her Theatre World Award in 1977 for I Love My Wife, Spelling Bee‘s Celia Keenan-Bolger, to whom she was presenting, was born. (Now I know why Gleason asked me if she could present to her!)

I then said that, when I wrote a column a few weeks ago about people who bring tape recorders into theaters to tape musicals that they know won’t get original cast albums, more people wrote in to say they’d like a recording of Judy Kaye doing On the Twentieth Century than any other tape. Kaye then came out and proved why by singing a galvanizing “Never” from that show before presenting to Ashlie Atkinson for Fat Pig. Atkinson remarked that she recently had worked just down the street for $7 an hour as a check-in girl in a rehearsal studio — “and I’ve never seen money that good since.” She added, “I’ll carry this award around in my apron in every waitress job I have from now on.”

Michael McGrath, who’d come to give his Spamalot castmate Hank Azaria the prize, said that when rehearsals began, Azaria “didn’t just jump into the pool — he did a cannonball.” Azaria remarked that he was overwhelmed by eight-a-week, adding, “Now I know why Harvey Fierstein sounds the way he does.” He said that “theater was my original aspiration 20 years ago, but none of you would have me, so I’m taking this chance to express my bitterness.”

After Walter Willison reprised his “I Do Not Know a Day I Did Not Love You” from Two by Two with astonishing power, he presented to Christina Applegate, whom he’d directed in a production of The Grass Harp when she was six years old. He mentioned that, back then, a reporter came over to interview her and asked, “Do you want to be an actress when you grow up?” She replied, “I’m already an actress.” It was such a good story that I’m sorry she didn’t hear it; Applegate skipped the awards because she wasn’t feeling well.

I’d randomly selected Tim Daly to present to Gordon Clapp of Glengarry Glen Ross, so I was surprised to learn that they’d worked together in a TV-movie: “I played David Koresh,” said Daly, “and Gordon was my main Branch Dividian.” Clapp then got up and told us, “Theater was something I’d managed to avoid for 57 years — with the help of the theater community. There are so many to thank,” he added, “but none of them are here, so I don’t have to.”

Doubt’s Brian F. O’Byrne then presented to castmate Heather Goldenhersh. (I hear that they’re a couple, but neither he nor she mentioned it.) Goldenhersh mentioned that the only award she’d ever received was a good sportsmaship prize in the 10th grade; she said she was happy that she no longer had to be a good sport, now that she was a winner.

I’ve got to tell you how I introduced Estelle Parsons, because it’s such a great story. (She told it to me last January when she was doing Harold and Maude.) In the ’50s, she was a reporter on The Today Show until she took a leave to have twins. When she returned, she was told to go to Monaco and cover Grace Kelly’s wedding. She refused because she wanted to be with her kids, and soon she was looking for another job. What job did she get? A role in Happy Hunting, that of a reporter who goes to Monaco to cover Grace Kelly’s wedding! Parsons presented to Conor Donovan of Privilege, who said that getting the award was “one of the best experiences of my life.” What made this really funny is that Donovan is 12.

Cheyenne Jackson accepting hisTheatre World Award(Photo © Michael Portantiere)
Cheyenne Jackson accepting his
Theatre World Award
(Photo © Michael Portantiere)

I then noted that almost everyone in the room had something in common: In high school, college, community or professional theater, we’d all appeared in a Rodgers and Hammerstein show. I mentioned that when I went to my high school reunion last year, they were still talking about my Dream Curly. (All right, that was a joke.) “But how many of us originated roles in a Rodgers and Hammerstein show on Broadway?” I asked. This was my way of introducting Pat Suzuki from Flower Drum Song. She came out looking younger than springtime and gave a spirited rendition of her signature song from that show, “I Enjoy Being a Girl.” The audience was amazed and enthralled; after all, Suzuki is 72 years old. This tiny woman looked so adorable when presenting to big, butch Cheyenne Jackson of All Shook Up, who surprised us all by saying that he fell in love with Broadway musicals through listening to the original cast album of Annie and wanted to be the first boy to play the title role. (I’d have bought a ticket to see that!)

I closed by saying that it’s always sad when we lose one of our Theatre World Award winners but especially sad when we lose a member of the first graduating class. Sixty years ago, he was named one of the year’s most promising personalities, and he went on to fulfill that promise — not only because he starred in two household-name musicals but also because, every summer, he’d go out barnstorming in Man of La Mancha, The Music Man, or Shenandoah, bringing Broadway to Gilford, New Hampshire and Owings Mill, Maryland. He was the quintessential Broadway leading man who could sing a pop standard such as “Hey, There” but could also deliver the incredibly difficult “Soliloquy” from Carousel. (He introduced both.) As one of the lines in the latter piece goes, “Of course, it takes talent to do that well.” John Raitt had the talent to do everything well; I was so glad that the audience gave a nice round of applause in his memory.

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[To contact Peter Filichia directly, e-mail him at pfilichia@theatermania.com]