From the time I first started watching movies, I had no trouble with the whole suspension of disbelief concept, but for whatever reason, it never extended to musicals. I think that’s because if I were to be in a real-life conversation with someone who inexplicably bursts into song, I would put a lot of distance between that person and me, and possibly make a 911 call to get the person the help they needed. As a result, I closed myself off to a whole genre of entertainment. Time to see what I was missing.
I started off with Guys and Dolls, because, as a poker player and horse bettor, I could relate to a bunch of degenerate gamblers. Overall, I found it OK, but because I was streaming it, I was able to walk away when got too, you know, musicaley. Which I did a couple of times. So, I decided full immersion was the way to go.
As luck would have it, a production of How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying was on stage at South Park Theatre. I chose a seat at the far end of the aisle, against the wall, making it that much tougher to rabbit. I was locked in for two hours and 45 minutes, including intermission.
Fun fact: Along with unprovoked singing, musical theater also involves big chunks of dancing — one more thing that, if it happened in the course of a normal conversation, would cause me to seek shelter.
I was a little taken aback by one of the opening songs, where a secretary extolled the virtues of tradwifery and her hopes — later echoed by the entire secretarial pool — of landing a top-earning breadwinner. This was followed by a song called A Secretary is Not a Toy, and later, another secretary mentions how she started a rumor that she was a sex addict, presumably to boost her chances of landing a high-value man. I reminded myself that How to Succeed’s Broadway debut was in 1961, so these sentiments were very much a product of their time, much like my Uncle Boyd’s scintillating take on why the NFL will never see a Black quarterback (because of the mental pressure), or my Grandma Jantz’s assertion that tropical countries are biologically incapable of producing geniuses (because the hot weather makes the people there lazy).
While I did appreciate the multiple talents on display, about halfway through, every time someone geared up to start singing, I said to myself “Oh *^@#, there they go again,” and my mind started wandering. One of the paths it took was wondering what a workplace musical would be like here. Cops dancing and singing about how much easier it is for them to qualify with their weapons now that we have a firing range; librarians warbling about the summer reading club; Finance Director Andrew McCreery in a showstopping number about everything we can do with a $7.5 million bond issue (actually, I can kind of see that last one. Andrew’s pretty dramatic).
So, bottom line, I’m glad I went, and confirmed that musicals might not be for me. That said, if anyone wants to collaborate on putting together a production of LEBO!, you know where to reach me.