What Annoys You
Recently, I cited Scott Cohen’s book, Don’t You Hate That: 738 Annoying Things. It spurred me to rattle off 20 things that I hate about theater — such as when a character answers a question with “Yes!” and then realizes that this answer will get him in trouble, so he immediately says “No!” but then thinks of an explanation that might hold water and says, “I mean, yes!” — and the person listening has NO IDEA that the speaker is lying.
Some readers let me know that they have their own annoyances where it comes to theater. Ed Weissman spoke for many when he wrote, “When the word ‘soundtrack’ is used to describe a ‘cast album.'” Michael Dale mentioned. “When a woman in a movie is a nightclub entertainer who goes on stage, does one song — and then the show is over.”
Jeffrey Nash had to complain, “When elaborate, detailed realistic sets are surrounded by a black void. It’s as if the characters had decorated their home to include hallways made only of black velour and no light fixtures. Not too long ago I did a production of Hay Fever where the beautiful, stylish period set focused our eyes on the upstage center doors to the garden. Sadly, the garden was a big, black Nothing which could have been outer space. I always was tempted to cry, ‘Beam Me Up, Sir Noel!'”
Meanwhile, Aviva Rothschild snorted, “When a British cast attempts American accents, especially in quintessentially American musicals — e.g., The Music Man, West Side Story. They almost invariably sound fake when they speak; and when they sing, their accents slip all over the place, and/or they overact miserably with an obnoxious breathy-gulpy quality to their singing (Witness Maria Friedman in Merrily We Roll Along. Argh!)
And Poolguy can’t stand when, “Cops enter, all speaking in thick Irish brogues. But one of the cops is black, and when he speaks, his brogue is the thickest of all. Har! This joke is used in both The Producers and Wonderful Town, and it really isn’t that funny in either one.”
Two things bothered Matthew Teague Miller “1) When a wonderfully (or perfectly) written stage play or musical adds an unnecessary song for the movie version (“You Must Love Me” in Evita) or an unnecessary character (the film of Lost in Yonkers, where we actually meet Bella’s sweetheart); 2) When someone wins a Tony for a so-so performance, as compensation for all the other times he should have won but was overlooked.”
Selena Stair is vexed by three things: “1) When fellow audience members think I paid to hear them sing along; 2) When a community theater cast comes into the lobby after the show and traps you; 3) when I’m seated next to that woman — you know her — who wears at least half a bottle of perfume; 4) when people talk loudly all through the overture, thinking that, after all, the show hasn’t started yet.”
That oh-so-talented songwriter Francesca Blumenthal had actually written a song about what had annoyed her most, and sent that along. It began, “I try not to flinch, though I’m yearning to lynch the pianist who’s banging too loud. I try not to cringe when his ffffortes infringe on my ears through the cheers of the crowd.”
But Adam Perlman seemed to be the most easily annoyed, for he cited no fewer than 10 annoyances: “1) When at curtain call, the crowd springs to its feet for a terrible or — worse — truly mediocre play. That puts on me the pressure to stand in order not to look like a grouch — or just to see the performers take their bows; 2) when ushers are such control-freak Fascists that they’ll do anything to keep you in your allotted seat rather than allow the audience to move closer, thus creating a more exciting experience for audience and performers alike; 3) when a re-imagination of a successful piece of theater isn’t at least as interesting as what was tried the first time around; 4) when a writer with a lack of stagecraft sabotages his own writing by directing the play; 5) when you head into a theater to find a placard announcing a performer will miss that particular performance, when no such placard was visible earlier in the day when you bought your ticket; 6) when performers have pitch problems. If you’re on a Broadway stage, you should be able to hit a note straight on and hold it, and you shouldn’t slide up to your notes, skate around them, or drift flat after a measure; 7) when directors and actors ignore script specifics. How hard is it to put someone in a chair, if there’s a line about him sitting? 8) when a character has a secret plot and another makes a joke that recounts exactly what is really going on and doesn’t catch that the perpetrator’s eyes bug out; 9) when good shows die before people — especially those outside of NY — ever know they existed. More unsuccessful and Off-Broadway shows are getting recordings, and the archives at Lincoln Center are expanding, but there must be a way to make sure every show is documented and that a national database is available to showcase them. Musical theater fans should be able to listen to Little Fish, Romance in Hard Times, Bounce, and The Wild Party; 10) when David Hasselhoff appears in Jekyll & Hyde. No other celeb replacement has been as awful. Joey McIntyre may have that embedded accent and persistent harmony problems, Joey Fatone may have the look and charisma of an Olive Garden commercial, and John Stamos may be able to close a Tony-winning revival in no-time flat — but none of them can run something into the ground with such buffoonish ineptitude that any community theater ham can say ‘I could do better’ — and be right.”
On the other hand, I have to admit that a few readers were annoyed with some of the annoying things I mentioned. I’ll share their thoughts with you on Friday.
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[To contact Peter Filichia directly, e-mail him at pfilichia@theatermania.com]
