But before we get to that….

Housekeeping 1: I apologise for being, as one of my readers put it, a ‘despondent Penamacorrespondent’ last week. A couple of people contacted me clearly concerned that they might have to talk me down from the window ledge. Please always remember, dear reader, that this blog is, as they say ‘based on real events’, but might sometimes take liberties in order to create a more interesting story. It’s probably fair to say that the ‘low’ I sustained over 1400 words last week represented a low that I was in for only a few moments in real life, but I decided that it made good copy.

Housekeeping 2: Last Monday morning, I was able to get through to TAP on the phone. I explained the situation, and was assured that I could request a refund on our entire ticket (both outgoing and incoming flights). The rep explained to me that, if I requested the refund on the phone, I would incur a service charge, but, if I did it online, there would be no charge. So, I naturally hung up and attempted to request a refund online. However, at the critical moment, the website informed me that I could not complete the process online and I should contact the carrier.

I phoned TAP again, and, astonishingly, was again connected within seconds. I told the whole story again, and the rep was happy to process my request. When I asked about the fee, and pointed out that TAP was directly responsible both for causing me to request the refund and for forcing me to request it by phone, the rep assured me that there would be no fee. So, it looks like a good result. Now ask me whether we have received the refund yet….Not yet. Watch this space. The opera isn’t over till the fat lady sings.

Nor, indeed, is the musical – of which Bernice and I have seen two in the last couple of weeks: one on the big screen and the other on the stage. These were two very different experiences, for a number of reasons, and I have found myself thinking about the nature of the musical, and how I feel about it.

Our first outing was to the cinema, to see Spielberg’s remake of West Side Story. (Spoiler alert: he still dies in the end; she still doesn’t – of which more later.) Bernice had been very keen to see this, while I was a little less sure. I found it hard to believe that the remake would be very different from the original, with its various strengths and weaknesses, and I suspected that I would not get very much new from the evening. However, I’m very glad we did go. It was an evening whose plusses, for me, far outweighed its minuses.

Let’s start with the weaknesses of the original. Roger Ebert revisited the 1961 version in 2004, to mark its DVD release, and concluded his review with the following paragraph:

“So the dancing is remarkable, and several of the songs have proven themselves by becoming standards, and there are moments of startling power and truth. West Side Story remains a landmark of musical history. But if the drama had been as edgy as the choreography, if the lead performances had matched Moreno’s fierce concentration, if the gangs had been more dangerous and less like bad-boy Archies and Jugheads, if the ending had delivered on the pathos and tragedy of the original, there’s no telling what might have resulted. The movie began with a brave vision, and it is best when you sense that vision surviving the process by which it was turned into safe entertainment.”

I think I would agree with all of that. Now, let me work through Roger Ebert’s checklist to see how the 2021 remake measures up.

So the dancing is remarkable: We both felt that the dancing was, if anything, even better this time round, especially in the outdoor scenes on the actual streets of New York. Less explicitly ‘balletic’, and more street-muscular.

Several of the songs have proven themselves by becoming standards: It’s still Bernstein and Sondheim, so of course the songs are still sensational (especially the music). Even better, in fact, because the actors all do their own singing. However, I was sorry to hear that Sondheim’s original, 1961-risqué lyric was not restored. Anita, looking forward to a night of passion with Bernardo, still sings

He’ll come home hot and tired.
Poor dear!
No matter if he’s tired
As long as he’s near.

rather than, as originally written:

He’ll come home hot and tired.
So what!
No matter if he’s tired
As long as he’s hot.

There are moments of startling power and truth: Here, the new version adds several extra layers. The social context of the Puerto Rican and Polish gangs is fleshed out with multiple pieces of back-story; there is a very real sense of the whole extended Puerto Rican community. All of the dialogue has been newly written by Tony Kushner, and, largely through this process, the film becomes darker, richer; it becomes less of a vehicle for knee-jerk sympathy than the original, and a slightly more nuanced discussion of the urban reality of about-to-be-redeveloped Upper West Side.  

One particular decision I felt was very effective. A lot of the dialogue among the Puerto Ricans is in Spanish, and Spielberg refused to subtitle this in English. I believe the reason given was to avoid English being seen as the default, natural or superior language. The consequence of this for me is that I experienced the ‘otherness’ of the Puerto Ricans; particularly the one new ‘song’, an alternate, revolution-minded version of La Borinqueña, the Puerto Rican national anthem, comes across as remarkably threatening. It is very unsettling to be unsure whether and just how the Jets are being insulted and jeered at by this song.

Moreno’s fierce concentration: Ariana DeBose in the role of Anita is as fiery as Rita Moreno was, and that’s saying something

If the gangs had been more dangerous and less like bad-boy Archies and Jugheads: Done! The weapons the gangs arm themselves with, the fighting that is shown, the attempted rape of Anita in the final act, some of the dancing, are all uglier and more threatening this time round. Even the light and mocking comicality of Gee, Officer Krupke is made a little more serious by the trashing of a room in the police precinct building.

If the ending had delivered on the pathos and tragedy of the original: Here, sadly, Hollywood still hasn’t grown up. In 2021, much to my disappointment, the same unforgivable mistake is made as in 1961. Shakespeare knew that Juliet could not contemplate life with Romeo dead; she had to commit suicide. Hollywood thinks it knows better. I ask you: if Juliet/Maria survives, where do you see her in 5, or 10, or 20 years’ time? There is no reasonable answer to that question.

I was willing Rachel Zegler to turn Chino’s gun on herself and pull the trigger, but I’m afraid she didn’t.

Setting that one lapse aside, I heartily recommend the 2021 West Side Story. Do yourself a favour, and see it on the big screen, with the big sound system.

Bernice and I followed this, last Thursday, with a trip to see an amateur production of Annie. Now, I’m not going to lie to you. We wouldn’t have gone to see it had it not been for the fact that no fewer than three of our great-nieces were among the orphans. Now, I’m still not going to lie to you. A cold and wet early winter evening found me still hoping against hope that the Israeli government would announce an immediate Covid shutdown of all places of entertainment. But, it was not to be, and so we made the trek to Jerusalem.

The first pleasant surprise was that the theatre in the Masorti school in Talpiot is a rather splendid small theatre, with a seriously raked auditorium. We were almost in the back row, and it brought back fond memories of sitting in the gods in the West End.

I came to Annie almost as inexperienced as Maria in West Side Story. I could hum Tomorrow, and I knew that our heroine is rescued from the orphanage by Big Daddy, but that was it. Bernice had clear memories of us seeing the film together, but in the end she grudgingly conceded that she may have gone with Esther.

The second pleasant surprise was the level of professionalism of the whole production. Of course, all three of our great-nieces were magnificent, but almost everyone else was very good as well. As is always the case with this particular theatre company, a huge amount of effort had been put into all of the technical aspects. The mere logistics of dressing and making up a cast of 63 adults and children are daunting.

A creative set and spirited performances were enhanced, as usual, by a professional live nine-piece band. It’s fair to say that the performances were a little uneven, but everyone was in very good voice and a couple of the cast would not be out of place on the professional stage.

All of which makes me feel that I can offer some comments on the musical itself. Annie is set in the New York of the early 1930s Depression era. A bald account of the plot would suggest that it is very dark. At one point, our heroine wanders the streets and encounters a group of homeless people surviving by beggary and theft. Another scene shows FDR and his advisers wrestling with the nation’s economic problems.

However, the musical itself does not really take these situations seriously; they are little more than the backdrop against which the fairy-tale story plays out. I do not offer this as a criticism, but simply as an observation. Many musicals are set at a time of social upheaval and transition. Some of them are vehicles for examining and critiquing that situation. Others use the situation simply as a way to drive the plot. Oklahoma and Paint Your Wagon, for example, recreate an America settling the West. However, they do not overly concern themselves with that. Annie belongs in that group. Even the songs whose subject-matter is bleak cannot resist cute lyrics.

Prosperity was ’round the corner
The cozy cottage built for two
In this blue heaven that you gave us Yes!
We’re turning blue!

They offered us Al Smith and Hoover
We paid attention and we chose
Not only did we pay attention
We paid through the nose.

West Side Story, particularly in its 2021 version, captures New York at a time of transition, and has at least some serious things to say about the impact of that transition on the local population. There are, of course, musicals that involve themselves much more deeply in similar serious questions. One obvious example is Cabaret. Another example, and one that always surprises me by the depth of its examination of real issues, is Fiddler on the Roof. These are two examples of serious musical theatre and each, in its own way, demonstrates how song can add another layer of atmosphere, emotion and context to serious drama.

And speaking of musical comedy (as we almost were):
– Do you know you’ve still got your coat on?
– No, but you sing the first verse and I’ll join in the chorus.