Musical Decomposition

Pardon Our Dust

2009-07-07T14:24:00.000-07:00

You might have noticed that Musical Decomposition has been on a bit of a hiatus. For the past two-and-a-half years. Yes, I am not unaware of the lag.

What is the fate of MD? Are there future Decompositions on the horizon? The answer is a definite, possibly, maybe yes-and-or-no.

As I've grown and matured as a theatre artist, I have broadened my horizons beyond the sphere of musical theatre. I have studied Shakespeare. I have performed Greek plays. I have delved into stand-up comedy and improv. I have premiered many an experimental, God-forsaken off-off-Broadway show. At this moment I am happily ensconced in a Renaissance Faire and am content to gorge myself on smoked turkey legs until my contract runs up.

Meanwhile, I have not performed in a musical for about two years. I still love musical theatre. I still believe in it as a medium, and I believe that amazing things can happen when all the elements are in balance. I began acting in musical theatre and I am in no way done with musical theatre. In short, I have no problem with musical theatre.

But I do have a problen with Musical Theatre People.

I'm not talking about directors, composers, writers, actors or any of the artists involved with making musical theatre. I'm talking about the groupies. The ones who buy ticket after ticket for Spring Awakening but never see a straight play in their lives. The ones who can quote every line from RENT but have no idea who Henrik Ibsen is. The ones who bury themselves so deeply into this world of choreography and belted E-flats that they never even attempt to enjoy anything else.

You know the ones.

I first became suspicious of musical theatre people when Sodomygate hit and the Broadway message boards went absolutely apeshit. Reasonable people were reasonable, but the crazies were absolutely horrid in their condemnation. There was slut-shaming. Some tried to justify Barbour's actions (which were mere speculation at the time). Many accused the young woman (whose identity was concealed from publication all during the legal process) of acting on an opportunistic impulse. It was a completely ugly affair and for the first time I felt sickened by the Broadway community.

The ax didn't officially fall until almost a year later while I was on tour. I was having an argument with another actor in the cast. She was of the opinion that in terms of depth, intelligence and musical quality, Wicked far surpassed the collected works of Gilbert and Sullivan. I insisted that she was both wrong and high. By the end of the conversation I was exhausted. Thinking back on that conversation, I feel exhausted again. At that point, I was done with Musical Theatre People.

And as I have grown away from the Cult of Idina I have felt this blog become less of a priority. I still have ideas for Decompositions in my head, but it is getting harder and harder to get them down. When I started this blog, I was living at home, floating in and out of minimum wage jobs and desperate to find an outlet for my artistic longings. Now I am officially an adult, auditioning and working full-time and trying to manifest my longings into a career. It's funny the way life gets in the way of life sometimes. Not that I call this blog my life, but it's a part of my life.

My point is, I can neither confirm or deny the death of Musical Decomposition. If you have been waiting all this time for an update, I am incredibly sorry...and a bit scared of you. For the love of God, go outside and do something. See a play. May I suggest something by Ibsen?

Giant Killer Shark: Decomposed

2006-11-29T09:07:00.000-08:00

Giant Killer Shark: The Musical
Music & Lyrics: em....
Book: er...GIANT KILLER SHARK, MUTHAFUCKA!
Notes: Something short and sweet to get me back on track. I swear to God, this is an actual show, and it's either the best or worst thing to happen to the theatre.

(Scene: Copyright-Protected Island

Time: The story is timeless)

POLICE CHIEF: We have to close the beach!

COPYRIGHT-PROTECTED ISLANDERS: NO! OUR LEISURE! WAHHHH!

GIANT KILLER SHARK: (terrorizes)

COPYRIGHT-PROTECTED ISLANDERS: (are eaten)

POLICE CHIEF: (facepalm)

OUR HEROES: (get drunk; compare scars in slightly homoerotic way)

THE PLOT: (OMG, it's just like that movie!)

(Curtain.)

copyright © 2006 Musical Decomposition

Tony Awards 2006: Decomposed

2006-06-12T12:41:00.000-07:00

2006 Antoinette Perry Awards (brought to you by Subaru)
Music: Everybody
Lyrics: Everybody else
Book: Someone who should never, ever write again.
Notes: There were Tony's this year? Again? Really? Wow.

Jax is back to help me cut The Antoinette Perry Awards into bite-sized digestable chunks, swallow them, spit them up and feed them to our young. Relive the joy, the rage, the montages, the musical numbers, the girl-crushes, the sexual-orientation speculation, the Harry Potter actors, the Snarkjuice™, and the cookies- everything great about Broadway.

JAX: You rang?
AMANDA: TONY'S
JAX: I know it

(AMANDA and JAX are back, and so is the Snarkjuice™- Chardonnay, this time. DANA is not with us this year. She is in New York at the Roundabout Theatre's party. Loser.)

AMANDA: And you know, I think the two best qualified people to recap the Tony's are two girls who haven't seen a show this season
JAX: I saw one!
AMANDA: oh, well... never mind

(The show starts with much pomp and video collage.)

AMANDA: And now, your host...NO ONE!
JAX: I'm just glad it wasn't Oprah.

(Harry Connick Jr. kicks in into high gear with a swinging medley of Broadway standards. "And those crazy stars will all coo-coo where they are...")

JAX: Oh Harry, you're not supposed to be in musicals. You're supposed to sing jazz and be in Hope Floats
AMANDA: Oh my God, why does he remind me of my ex?
JAX: How terrifying
AMANDA: He's like my ex, only less fleshy, and I'm guessing he has a more toned mid-section. STOP IT, HAR-HAR!

(59 other stars simultaneously ascend from some deep dark place. If I were a Tony presenter- co-host, whatever- I would rather be flown in. I'd much rather appear to have descended from heaven to bless one worthy actor than to have risen from hell to destroy the hopes and dreams of four. Then again, all actors are going to hell eventually. I guess it's all relative.)

AMANDA: Joining me are fifty-nine people you've never heard of and Julia Roberts
JAX: Look at Patti jammin'
AMANDA: You think she's drinking already?

(It's alright. These guys are all cool. Well, Julia Roberts isn't; she kind of sucks. But the rest of these guys are pretty great.

And yet...)

AMANDA: WHERE'S ACKMAN???!!
JAX: Huge Ackman?
AMANDA: WHERE'S HUGE ACKMAN???!!

(Then again...)

AMANDA: RALPH!
JAX: I LOVE HIM
AMANDA: RALPH!
JAX: We're having sex.
AMANDA: RALPH!
JAX: I do Lord Voldemort.

(The first award of the evening. Presented by The Closer and Some Guy.)

AMANDA: K. Sedge and...some guy. "blah, blah, blah, I do TV now blah-dee-blah my husband loves Philadelphia"

(Outstanding Performance by a Featured Actor in a Play. Always the least important award, which is why it is presented first.)

JAX: Lets keep a gay count
AMANDA: Okay.
JAX: (counting) Gay...Gay?...Gay.
AMANDA: So....three so far?
JAX: Yes.
AMANDA: Wait...does that include Cynthia Nixon?
JAX: Nope.
AMANDA: Okay...three

(It quickly becomes clear that we've gotten way in over our heads. The Gay Count is euthanized; it's ashes scattered in a puddle outside Radio City Music Hall.

Ian McDiarmid- that's really his name; I looked it up and everything- wins the award for "The Faith Healer", which is The Ralph Fiennes Play.)

AMANDA: Mmm...Ralphamorte

(It is scientific fact that British actors give the best acceptance speeches. So why is this guy so friggin' boring?)

AMANDA: Damnit, this guy is BORING
JAX: I'm not even listening
AMANDA: the Brits are supposed to give the more amusing...oh wait...that was amusing

(He says something amusing. We are amused. The next pair of presenters:)

AMANDA: Rogue McMutant and the would be Mr. Whoopie Goldberg

(Outstanding Performance By a Featured Actress in a Play.)

AMANDA: Tyne Daly could kill you with her fist
JAX: Madame Maxime: I have my money on her.
AMANDA: It's Harry Potter Redux!

(Frances de la Tour awes the audience with her giant powers and she wins. The voice-over makes a vain attempt at clever word play.)

JAX: MAXIME? WORD!!!!!!! I f@#$ing love her.
AMANDA: Well-played, Jax
JAX: Thankies.
AMANDA: "de-la-Tour", "tour-de-force", heh

(It's a good night for "The History Boys" so far.)

JAX: So...History Boys
AMANDA: What is that about, anyway?
JAX: No idea.

(First commercial break of the evening.)

AMANDA: Up next: everyone who's ever been on Broadway ever.
JAX: Precisely
AMANDA: Eleonora Duse presents the best featured actor in a musical award
JAX: Who is that?
AMANDA: Oh hell, Jax

(Coming up next...)

JAX: BERNADETTE! CHITA! BEBE! SUTTON!!!!
AMANDA: DROWSY CHAPERONE!
JAX: That's the one I saw!
AMANDA: No one likes a show-off, Jax.

(There are commercials. The new "Mary Poppins" musical is advertised. AMANDA is convinced, via commercial, why she should visit Philadelphia, even though she is there every week.)

AMANDA: TONY MEMORIES!
JAX: Jane Kraksowski (spelling impossible) is beautiful

(They show the emotional moment when that guy from "Grand Hotel" wins.)

AMANDA: "If you're on drugs...keep doing them and you will win a Tony anyway"
JAX: Sounds like a plan

(Two Velmas appear onstage at the same time. The universe barely escapes implosion.)

JAX: BEBE AND CHITA!
AMANDA: CHEETS!
JAX: Bebe is hot
AMANDA: Cheets is hot!

(Bebe and Cheets tell us about the special group photo taken of anyone still living who has won a Tony. There are barely above 100 people. Some had come ALL THE WAY FROM EUROPE.)

AMANDA: OMIGOD, ALL THE WAY FROM EUROPE!
JAX: Ooh I see me
AMANDA: Wow, that's...not a lot of people
JAX: I know, right?

(The award for Outstanding Choreography in a Musical. As opposed to...Outstanding Choreography in a Liturgical Play?)

AMANDA: DAHNCE!
JAX: My money is on...... Drowsy or PJ [Pajama Game- ed.]
AMANDA: So, we can check these off as all gay, right?
JAX: except Kathleen

(Rob Marshall's sister wins, again)

AMANDA: F@#KING KATHLEEN MARSHALL WINS EVERY TIME
JAX: I know.

(She is overjoyed in her acceptance speech. If she hadn't already won two years ago, it wouldn't be so damned annoying.)

AMANDA: JOYJOYJOY
JAX: Vomitvomitvomit
AMANDA: THANKYOUTOEVERYONEEVERILOVEYOUALLLLL!!!!1!!11!1
JAX: She looks like she's wearing Sara Ramirez's dress from last year
AMANDA: But she doesn't have to yank it up

(She jelly-fishes some praise to her former roommate Rob Ashford, who's fighting away bitchface because he knows the cameras are on him.)

AMANDA: "Rob Ashford is my friend...and now I have more Tony's than him"

(Julianna Marguiles and...some other guy present another award. They present with the enthusiasm one expects from two people recently awakened from a nap.)

AMANDA: Her hair...is slightly ass-shaped
JAX: Yes
AMANDA: Why are all of them presenting like they've downed an Ambien cocktail?

(Someone's going to win.)

JAX: I don't care who wins this one, pass the beer

(S0meone wins.)

AMANDA: Heh, she said Hole
JAX: History Boys 2, Harry Potter 1
AMANDA: Another for History Boys
JAX: Are you jotting these down?
AMANDA: I'm typing away furiously

(It's time for "Drowsy Chaperone": the best fake-old-new musical ever!)

JAX: DROWSY
AMANDA: I WANT TO SEE THIS!

(The Man In The Chair is getting wasted off his drinking game: anytime someone says "Thank you", shot!)

JAX: HE should have picked "hole"

("Drowsy Chaperone" is AWESOME.)

AMANDA: He's precious
JAX: Sutton! Her legs are a mile long
AMANDA: That is some awesome extension. Hey, my future character just walked by
JAX: Yep
AMANDA: The chefs make me giggle
JAX: The amazing Sutton

(Sutton puts everyone to shame.)

AMANDA: I...need to go to the gym
JAX: Me too

(And the grand finale.)

JAX: Belt!!! DO IT!
AMANDA: NO! GO FOR THE SOPRANO!

(She belts, much to AMANDA's dismay.)

JAX: That was compelling
AMANDA: OMIGOD, I NEED TO SEE THAT SHOW!

(Coming up, on Ego Pagent 2006)

AMANDA: SWEENEY! Hey, they have commercials for shows now!
JAX: Chorus Line... starring Alisan Porter... aka, Curly Sue
AMANDA: That..I don't have a comment about that

(Between awards, AMANDA hatches a clever scheme)

AMANDA: So, shall we get a drinking game going?
JAX: Hee! Sure.
AMANDA: Everytime someone says.... History Boys, we drink
JAX: Or... Jersey Boys, drink
AMANDA: Everytime someone thanks their gay lover, drink
JAX: HA!
AMANDA: Everytime...the camera catches a strained looking smile. Everytime...the camera pans to a tearful loved one. Everytime...someone uses the podium to come out. Everytime...someone says "show"
JAX: Shut up.
AMANDA: okay...not "show"... everytime someone from Harry Potter wins.
JAX: One more drink all night?
AMANDA: Yes

(The next two presenters are Lauren Ambrose and Paul RuddRuddRudd, who barely survived the run of a Julia Roberts suck-fest)

JAX: Paul Rudd... I loved you in Clueless.
AMANDA: I love him, period

(It is the award for Best Book of a Musical. Ruuuuuddddddd livens things up by stumbling over the teleprompter and playing it off. We need 20 CCs of whatever he is drinking for the rest of the presenters, stat.)

AMANDA: And that, my friends, is how you present
JAX: I have my money on Drowsy
AMANDA: DROWSY!

(We are correct, sir.)

JAX: YES!!! I f@#$ing love that guy.
AMANDA: CANADA, REPRESENT!
JAX: We like beer eh!
AMANDA: And they're both straight...wouldn't it be weird if they just started kissing?

(Barbara Cook and Paul Schaffer take the stage.)

AMANDA: Barb and her GIANT FACE!

(I know she's a living musical theatre legend and all that, but seriously, her face is HUGE. The two present the award for Best Music and Lyrics.)

AMANDA: The Color Purple: music and lyrics by Oprah, costumes by Oprah...
JAX: DROWSY!!!!! Win win win!
AMANDA: The Wedding Singer. I refuse to support a show based on an Adam Sandler movie
JAX: The Wedding Sucker.
AMANDA: Heheh

(The only nomination for "Woman In White" is thus announced. David Zippel is shown. Briefly.)

AMANDA: but...where's Webber?
JAX: ALW... I thought (hoped) he was dead.

(You can practically hear David Zippel mouth the words "I'm not Andrew Lloy-Webber". Schaf gives flowery praise to Barb so she won't crush him with her giant face. The winner is "Drowsy Chaperone". Everything's coming up cartigans.)

AMANDA: Heh, Schafer's totally crushing
JAX: I F@#KING LOVE THIS SHIT!
AMANDA: You know...I don't think we'll be complaining that much this year.

(Oh, but the show has just started.

The two writers win over the hardened New York audience with their off-beat Canadian charm. They're The Kids In The Music Hall.)

JAX: She looks strung out
AMANDA: Well, she's probably been to more parties this week than she's ever been in her entire life

(Neil Patrick Harris takes a break from snorting cocaine off the behinds of strippers- Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle; movies don't lie- to present with one of the original cast-members of Into The Woods. No, it's not...)

JAX: BERNADETTE!!! WHERE'S BERNADETTE
AMANDA: Wait...did NPH dye his hair?
JAX: Doogie.
AMANDA: SWEENEY! attend, bitches
JAX: Doogie...
AMANDA: LET'S KILL SOME PEOPLE!
JAX: Here comes Patti...she looks a little like Bebe gone all wrong
AMANDA: Ooh, Cerveris looks like he could do with a sammich
JAX: Seriously
AMANDA: Him and his penis-like head
JAX: Who is that guy from the Addams Family? Uncle Fester? It's Uncle Fester Todd.

(It's a "Sweeney" mega-mix: "The Ballad of Sweeney Todd", "The Worst Pies In London", "My Friends"...)

AMANDA: "A LITTLE PREIST", DAMNIT!

(Michael Cerveris sings a love song to his pinking shears.)

AMANDA: These musicals are my friends!
JAX: See the spit fly!
AMANDA: Spit+drama
JAX: = life

(And before we go on to commercial: A brief Ralphamission.)

AMANDA: RALPH
JAX: Lord VoldieSex
AMANDA: Um, I can't believe that Dana complained that Ralph LOOKED. RIGHT. AT. HER.
JAX: She complained about this?
AMANDA: She said it was unnerving
JAX: If he looked me in the eye, I would have sex with him. With or without his consent
AMANDA: Yeah, when that Polish singer told the tabloids about the sex she had with him, all I could think was "that sounds like fun"
JAX: Seriously.
AMANDA: And I wanted to condemn her, but if I had sex with Ralphemort, I would tell everybody...and then broadcast it by satelite so people on other planets would know, too

(Commercials: an ad for "How I Met Your Mother")

AMANDA: Oh, NPH...you and your comic attempts at heterosexuality

(We're back. Liza "Fists of Fury" Minelli shares her Tony memories. What she can remember, at least.)

AMANDA: Oh, Liza
JAX: Oh, drug addict liza
AMANDA: Oh, Liza: husband to all gays

(Rosie Perez goes all legit on our asses and presents le montage du plays. It's mostly the bad ones.)

JAX: I hate montages
AMANDA: Well, at least they're showing more than just still frames of the plays
JAX: JULIA!
AMANDA: ACK!!! THREE DAYS OF CRAP!

(Hank Azaria and Oliver Platt.)

AMANDA: AH! OLIVER PLATT LOOKS LIKE MY EX, TOO!
JAX: Ew

(Best Director of a Musical.)

JAX: DROWSY!!!!
AMANDA: DROWSY!
JAX: GO DROWSY!!!!

(John Doyle, "Sweeney Todd".)

AMANDA: Oh...or that
JAX: F@#$. Uncle Fester Todd won
AMANDA: No...just his British granpa

(Joe Pesci takes a break from obscurity to present with some silent yet strangely content old men.)

AMANDA: Oh...are those supposed to be the Four Seasons? there's only three of them
JAX: They are The Four Seasons. One's dead
AMANDA: Unless Pesci is the fourth...and what the hell has Pesci been doing lately?

(It's time for a musical number from "Jersey Boys". It's called "Jersey Boys" because the boys are from Jersey.)

AMANDA: REPRESENT

(A diminuitive, attractive man croons "Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You".)

AMANDA: Oh, I hope this involves dancing with a Jesus
JAX: I liked it when Heath Ledger sang it

(He is quite good, and did we mention he is attractive?)

JAX: He's hot as hell
AMANDA: Is he the one that went to SU?
JAX: Nope.
AMANDA: Oh
JAX: I don't think so anyway
AMANDA: I know one of them went to SU

(At any rate, one of them did go to SU, so REPRESENT some more. The brass section marches solemnly in the background.)

AMANDA: Omigod, parade of brass cracks me up
JAX: They're doing the staging from Sugar
AMANDA: Just swaying with the instruments
JAX: I played the drums
AMANDA: I was on tenor sax. I think I learned to play an octave

(Then, the one season is joined by the rest of the year to much rejoicing. Is this the age of Aquarius I've heard so much about?)

JAX: I think that one that is wildly snapping is the SUer
AMANDA: He came in back before dance screening
JAX: Haha

(Some back-up type girls shimmy upstage. The song ends. Loudly.)

AMANDA: the skirts are awfully short: And that chord was awfully loud. Hey guys, boys don't belt, remember?

(C0mmercials)

AMANDA: I feel like the Chardonnay is just making me sleepy, not snarky. I mean, I'm not going to stop drinking it, but still.

(As the commercials commerce...)

AMANDA: God, I really miss Huge Ackman
JAX: Me too. Huge made my life.

(Audra MacDonald and Harvey Firestein take the stage. I can't help but wonder what their children might be like.)

JAX: Audra
AMANDA: Harvey
JAX: Weird pair
AMANDA: Audrey McDonald and Harvey Firestein: better people than you

(Audra looks FAB! I mean, I'm not wild about that fabric, but her hair is AWESOME. Montagemontagemontage. The show montages it up. We remember moments we were too young to have actually witnessed.)

AMANDA: PIPPIN! I'M IN IT
JAX: Steve Martin!
AMANDA: Oh, there's young Patti
JAX: Bebe won the Tony

(There are snippets of "Les Miserables" and "CATS". "The Phantom of the Opera" is mentioned.)

AMANDA: And the winner is...England
JAX: Do you hear the people sing, 'Manda?
AMANDA: Oh Christ, Cats
JAX: Betty Buckley= crazy
AMANDA: Wow, look at all the hair Kevin Spacey had
JAX: Woah. I'm terrified.

(Jennifer Holliday takes us home.)

AMANDA: YOU'RE GONNA LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-VUH (gasp) MEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

(And then there is Regional Theatre Blah-dee-blah.)

AMANDA: Every year the Tony's award a worthy theatre....but we won't actually do it during the telecast
JAX: That was Celia Keenan Bulger
AMANDA: 'Kay. I don't know who that is
JAX: She's the girl in Spelling Bee. The "I Love You Song" girl
AMANDA: Oh...

(Kristin Bell is next to present and wear Sara Ramirez' dress. Apparently, she was in "Huckleberry Finn Meets The Pirates of Penzance" or something.)

AMANDA: Kristin Bell did...what show now?
JAX: No idea.
AMANDA: And why is burgundy the hott color this year?

(She is paired, appropriately, with Hal Holbrook. Buh?)

JAX: This man is intensely old.
AMANDA: He's not dead yet

(K. Bell breezes through the list of nominees)

AMANDA: Oh, K.Bell: shut it
JAX: She can't read
AMANDA: or breathe. RALPH!

(Oh, Ralph. Never leave the screen ever, ever- Oh, hell. K. Bell is back.)

AMANDA: K. Bell can't pause for dramatic effect
JAX: She's too dumb.
AMANDA: I hate K Bell, I don't care what Television Without Pity thinks

(Somebody wins something. I don't know.)

AMANDA: Hey, was that Madame Hooch?

(Jamie-Lynn Sigler-DiScala-Whatever and Molly Ringwald defy relevence and present the next musical number.)

AMANDA: Ew, Jamie-Lynn
JAX: Too skinny. Eat a sammich
AMANDA: Did they just call her a star of stage and screen? EW.

(Hey guys! It's "The Wedding Singer"! Look at all those shoulder pads and poofy hair! Aren't period fashion idiosyncracies funny? Aren't they?? You better say yes, damnit!)

JAX: Woah woah woah
AMANDA: OMIGOD
JAX: OMGWTFisgoingon?
AMANDA: My knees just twinged
JAX: I just threw up in my mouth.
AMANDA: Too many lyrics with "love"... and, again...the Sandler thing
JAX: I love Sandler though; just not this.
AMANDA: THIS SONG IS SO F@#KING GENERIC!
JAX: Why didn't they just hire Sandler to to the show to round out how insane it is?

(It's a wedding party! Geddit? The Bride is tossed around like a rag doll. The Bride doesn't retaliate by weilding a sword and attacking everyone. Pity.)

JAX: A new Tony Award Sport: Bride flipping
AMANDA: I wonder how many dancers they lost with that move

(It's your wedding day! Love will never go away! So, feel the love! And put on a glove, or LOOOOVE WIIIILL FIIIND YOOUUUU! Doo-doo-doo...)

AMANDA: FUCK, I HATE THIS FUCKING SONG!
JAX: I know me too
AMANDA: ANY SONG THAT MAKES USE OF "DOO-DOO-DOO-DOO" SHOULD BE BANNED
JAX: Look how happy they all are that it's over.
AMANDA: I really don't want to see this show now

(You guys, look! It's an androgynous tambourine-player! And his name is "George"! Bwah! This is so anachronist and cute! I'm laughing so much I want to stab myself in the eye! This number has caused so much glee, I can't handle it! Someone has got to kill me because I can only die from too much happiness!

Up next: a performance from Threesexy Sexpera.)

AMANDA: Wow, Cyndi Lauper was rockin' some serious bed-head there
JAX: Seriously, but... Alan Cumming. Cumming the cologne.
AMANDA: Yikes. that commercial. with the ass. and the monologue. and the ass
JAX: Yes
AMANDA: You know...I've heard he was bisexual. but do you reallly think he's into girls? At all?
JAX: I've also swallowed my whole foot, and then shat it out.

(I don't know what she means, but it sound hilarious.

We're back, and so is Matthew Broderick. We get to see his formally adorable self before Sarah Jessica Parker drained the life out of him. Allegedly.)

AMANDA: Wow, look at the glasses on Broderick
JAX: He was hot back then. And then... botox
AMANDA: Do you think he doesn't wear them anymore because he's married to SJP?
JAX: And collegen
AMANDA: ZING!

(Those boring people from the American Theatre Wing pretend to act and stuff with the current cast of Spamalot. It doesn't work and no one is fooled.)

AMANDA: Oh man, I hate these two. I don't care how many theatres they run, they still suck
JAX: Glad that's over

(Sara Ramirez presents with...some guy. Ironically, she is the only one not wearing the Sara Ramirez dress. They are both charming. I feel kind of bad for not remembering the other guy's name, but I'm too lazy to fact-check.)

JAX: I LOVE THESE TWO! I seriously f@#$ing love these two
AMANDA: This is actually kinda funny
JAX: HA!
AMANDA: I take it back...THIS is how your present an award!

(They present the award for Outstanding Performance by a Featured Actress in a Musical.)

AMANDA: Felicia! I saw her on Oprah
JAX: Beth Leavel! That's you! She was awesome
AMANDA: Me!
JAX: DROWSY!
AMANDA: OPRAH!

(My future character wins, and my fate is sealed.)

JAX: WOOOOOO!!!!!! F@#k yes.
AMANDA: OOH, I WON!
JAX: She's a nut
AMANDA: Damn, look at her sprint
JAX: That is you.
AMANDA: Hell to the yes

(She makes a mad dash to the podium. She's no fool: she knows the orchestra will cut you off. Her stage time is usurped by Ana Gastayer and Jim Dale.)

AMANDA: the crowd: wild
JAX: I really love her
AMANDA: Is Ana...wearing a tiara?
JAX: Yes, she played Elphaba... so she thinks she's entitled

(It's time for "Threepenny")

AMANDA: Okay, let's see what this is about
JAX: Cumming! I'm not... but he is.

(Alan Cumming enters with his mohawk up to there and his shirt unbuttoned down to there. Cyndi looks like she bought her outfit at the Kit Kat Klub's garage sale.)

AMANDA: Alright, I have to admit...I'm a little turned on
JAX: I'm not...but he is.

(They sing about their non-relationship and their illegitimate baby in the style of a polka-tango-funeral march.)

JAX: I'm a little bored.

(They sing for roughly thirty years.)

JAX: They just said "f#$k".
AMANDA: Was that translated from the original German?

(The ensemble then enters to joylessly dance with each other. They keep switching partners, even to ones of their own gender! Decadence! Tango sluts!)

AMANDA: OMIGOD, THERE ARE GUYS DANCING WITH EACH OTHER!

(Alan breaks away from Cyndi to dance with some dude, everyone keeps dancing and then some other dude pulls a gun and points it right at Alan. It's all very WTF? and not as interesting as it appears in print.)

JAX: I have no idea what the hell just happened.
AMANDA: That was just...meh.
JAX: I'm going to go polish my shoes or something equally boring now.
AMANDA: I mean...when I'm seeing two dudes dance together, and someone pulls a gun, I don't expect to yawn. That shit should be more exciting
JAX: Two thumbs down.
AMANDA: Did they really say "f@#$"?
JAX: Yeah. They bleeped it
AMANDA: Huh.
JAX: Well, there has to be a word for "f@#$" in German... they're just so aggressive, I doubt they call it "making love"
AMANDA: If they have a word for "pleasure at the misery of others", they have a word for "f@#$"

(Stop! Commercial time!)

AMANDA: Great, NOW I want a Klondike bar

(We return to the welcoming prescence of S. Epatha Merkeson, who should be at every awards show, no exceptions.)

AMANDA: S. EPATHA MERKESON!
JAX: you know what the "S" stands for?
AMANDA: TUCCI!
JAX: No, it doesn't stand for Tuuci

(Stanley Tucci is also there, yay. They talk about the Best Play nominees and how awesome they are and how bad of a person you are for not seeing them.)

JAX: Is that Uncle Vernon?
AMANDA: Ooh, more Harry Potter!

(Uncle Vernon appears as "Richard Griffiths" in "The History Boys". It's a play about students who let a teacher molest them. I think. "The Lieutenant of Inishmore" is apparently about a guy obsessed with his cat.)

AMANDA: Who doesn't have an obsession about their cats?
JAX: Me. I don't have a cat

(All the Best Play nominees are represented by their set designs in teeny shadowboxes.)

AMANDA: I love these little shadowboxes. I just can't figure how they fit the actors in there.

(Jon Tartaglia and his puppet friend show up for the party. If this becomes a Tony staple, I won't mind. And there's that woman who stole the Tony from Marla Schaffel in 2001. She Who Shall Not Be Named.)

AMANDA: ROD!
JAX: Ooh Rod! Christine Ebersol!

(Oh damn! We named her! Rod says he's a Republican puppet. Christine Ebersol goes for the obvious joke.)

JAX: And the gays go wild!
AMANDA: Oh, SNAP!

(Outstanding Featured Guy in a Musical Whatever. "Drowsy" is up for another award.)

JAX: DROWSY!!!!!! Okay... Drowsy please.
AMANDA: Did he mouth "that's my brother" or "that's my lover"?

("Drowsy" Guy doesn't win. "Jersey" Guy does. "Jersey" Guy is touched.)

AMANDA: Aw, he's crying already!
JAX: I love it when they cry

(He is very teary. I love how in musical theatre, the straight guys are the biggest girls.)

JAX: He got it together. I was fairly sure he was just going to stutter through the entire thing. God Bless Broadway
AMANDA: DRINK!

(Ladies and Gentlemen: Mr. Brian Stokes Mitchell.)

AMANDA: STOKES!
JAX: STOKES! I almost typed Strokes.
AMANDA: STOKES CALLED ME FRIEND!
JAX: Sure did
AMANDA: "I'm here to honor Hal Prince. Also, I am handsome"

(Some unfortunate actors are brought onstage to represent the myriad of shows Hal Prince has been a part of. Among them, "West Side Story"...)

AMANDA: WEST SAH-EED!

(..."Pajama Game" and "Sweeney Todd".)

AMANDA: Wow, this is really kinda corny
JAX: Yeah...uhmm...I'm drinking to forget this.

(Finally, the man himself. He accepts his honor via video; he is too busy and important to actually be in New York right now.)

JAX: Woah. those glasses look like horns
AMANDA: Those glasses eclipse his head

(It's a really short speech.)

AMANDA: And...that's it. The end.
JAX: Dumb.

(The current Broadway Phantom is brought on in full Phantom drag to warble "Music of the Night". The cheese level has been raised from "nacho" to "whiz".)

AMANDA: Oh crap.
JAX: (hangs self)
AMANDA: This is cheesey

(Phantom misses a note.)

JAX: He screwed up!!!!!!
AMANDA: THAT WAS AWESOME!
JAX: Did that just happen!?!?!?!?!
AMANDA: SCHADENFRAUDE!
JAX: He's crying under that mask
AMANDA: I still can't believe that Christine dug even with his massive cold sore showing.

(That is all the love Hal gets this year. An awkwardly-staged montage and half a song. The end. Well done, mate. Now get back to work.)

AMANDA: Omigod, they couldn't come up with anything better than that?
JAX: That sucked ass
AMANDA: I mean, it's Hal F@#$ing Prince

(More commercials. It's the commercial you've been waiting for for the musical movie everyone's been waiting for.)

AMANDA: DREAMGIRLS! Jax, we are the internet's dreamgirls
JAX: Beyonce?
AMANDA: Wow...Jamie Foxx and Eddie Murphy look good in dresses

(As the commercials wrap, AMANDA muses.)

AMANDA: I want another Chardonnay...but I DON'T want another Chardonnay. I'm at a crossroads
JAX: Hmmm. What will make you happy?
AMANDA: BEN VEREEN!

(We are back and Ben Vereen is telling the viewing audience about how awesome it was to win for "Pippin". As well he should.)

AMANDA: So, how many presenters have we been through?
JAX: Who knows?

(There is an adorable old lady, and somebody tells the story about how her Outstanding Newcomer Tony was stolen. She is given a new one to much applause, but...couldn't they have gotten her a replacement earlier?)

AMANDA: Wow, they had awards like "Outstanding Newcomer" back then?
JAX: She had her Tony stolen?
AMANDA: It was me. I traveled back in time just to gank it
JAX: She just got a new one, though. No harm no foul.
AMANDA: Aw, she's old! let's stand for her
JAX: (stand)
AMANDA: Typing like this is hard. Let's sit again

(The adorable old lady fights the teleprompter. The teleprompter wins.)

JAX: She can't read because she's old
AMANDA: She's old and mispronouncing things!

(Best Actress of the Play Persuasion.)

AMANDA: Cynthia Nixon!
JAX: Miranda Hobbes!
AMANDA: I always get Lynn and Venessa Redgrave confused

(Cynthia Nixon is victorious. For the second year in a row, a lesbian has claimed the top prize for theatre acting. My God, if we let them marry, there'll be no stopping them.)

JAX: WOOO! Her girlfriend is ugly though.
AMANDA: Yeah, I still can't believe she went lesbo, but she looks great.
JAX: I can see your nipples Cynth
AMANDA: Does that make me gay? That I think that a lesbian looks good?
JAX: nope. I think she's hot too
AMANDA: I like her hair
JAX: I really love her. Miranda Hobbes is my hero... and Cynthia is her mommy

(Julia Roberts. She's actually onstage. Talk amongst yourselves. I'll give you a topic: she was HORRID in "Three Days of Rain". Discuss.)

AMANDA: BOOOOOO!
JAX: Julia. Go home. Don't you have babies or something?
AMANDA: "You people are insanely talented...and I'm not"
JAX: Thank you for not including yourself in that statement.
AMANDA: "You people"? What the hell does that mean??

(Best Actor: Play. It's Major Harry Potter Villian vs. Minor Harry Potter Villian. It should be obvious by now whom we are rooting for.)

JAX: LORD VOLDIESEX!
AMANDA: RALPHRALPHRALPH!
JAX: I'm so voting Ralph!
AMANDA: IT'S VOLDEMORT VS. UNLCLE VERNNON!
JAX: Kick ass, Voldie!

(And it's Uncle Vernon triumphant. Richard Griffiths and his white tux waddle to the podium.)

JAX: Uncle Vernon won!
AMANDA: This reminds me of March of the Penguins, for some reason. I'M SO EVIL!
JAX: He's sweating...because he's fat
AMANDA: "I used to be in the Royal Shakespeare Company. Recognize, bitches."

(His speech is really great. I wish I could remember it. He loves his wife: I think that was in there.)

JAX: Awww, Uncle Vernon
AMANDA: You see? That's how Brits are supposed to accept awards!

(Another musical performance. "The Pajama Game" is the game we're in.)

AMANDA: The Pajame Game: also known as Philadelphia Tourism
JAX: I love PJ Game
AMANDA: That's because you were in it.
JAX: Twice. I was in it twice!
AMANDA: I love Carnival! for the same reasons

(Kelli O'Hara and Har-Har sing at each other. It's like they are trying to will their vocal chords out through their mouths.)

AMANDA: Go Kelli!
JAX: I hate her a little.
AMANDA: Yeah, but in a good way

(Hernando's Hideaway. Ole!)

JAX: Rock. I love this number. JEN CODY!
AMANDA: Where?
JAX: She was the one that was being carried. Blue dress
AMANDA: Wow, they worked Har-Har's mad piano skillz into the show
Jax: Yup

(We are in awe of Jen Cody. She's, like, three feet tall, and she kicks ass. The fact that she's married to Hunter Foster just ups her awesomosity.)

AMANDA: Oh, tiny one
JAX: I love Jen Cody, she's my chorus girl hero
AMANDA: She and her husband are awesome
JAX: I bet Hunter keeps her in his pocket

(We go to commercials on a high note. Not literally a high note; not F above high C. Just happiness. Genuine happiness, not "The Wedding Singer"-happiness.)

AMANDA: Okay, f@#$ it. I'm getting more wine
JAX: YES!
AMANDA: Done and done
JAX: I think I need a drink. (raids parents liqour)
AMANDA: Let the Snarkjuice™ flow like wine!
JAX: The Snarkjiuce™ is wine
AMANDA: Hee! BOOZE!

(You are watching CBS- the most watched network ever in the history of all time.)

AMANDA: Is CBS really the most-watched network? Are they f@#$ing with us?

(Norbert Leo "Seymour" Butz and Victoria Clark present a presentation. Just go with me.)

AMANDA: Hey, there's your husband!
JAX: NORBERT! MY BOYFRIEND!!! I LOVE YOU!
AMANDA: Or boyfriend, whatever you refer to him as
JAX: Husband: we've since married. I love you, Norb...

(Earlier in the evening, Norb and Vic presented awards that were too important to broadcast. Sarah Jones gets a special Tony for her one-woman show. She is just that awesome. You're just going to have to take me at my word, because GOD FORBID the TONY AWARDS showcase a TONY-WINNING SHOW.)

AMANDA: Um, I wish they had showed more than just to 20 seconds of Bridge and Tunnel. I really really really want to see that
JAX: Seriously
AMANDA: AWAKE AND SING, BITCHES!` Let's add "BITCHES!" to the end of every show title

(Rita Wilson- soon to be seen in "Chicago"- BITCHES!- is joined by Jonathan Pryce. Here's all you need to know about him: he should have won the new Special Tony Award for best replacement actor in a show that has opened in a previous year. The stupid Tony committee didn't even nominate anyone for this brand new award and so they killed the category. It's dead. It's the Tony no one ever won. Cue violin. The end.)

JAX: Rita. You're married to Tom Hanks. Well done.
AMANDA: Aw, Johnny Pryce got shafted this year

(Best Revival of a Musical. It's a lock for "Threepenny", right?)

JAX: I vote PJ
AMANDA: SWEENEY! SWEENEY! BITCHES!
JAX: Uncle Fester Todd scares me

(And the winner is, "Sween"- holy shit, "Pajama Game"?!)

JAX: YES!!! PJ BITCHES!
AMANDA: Bwah? that...was shocking
JAX: YES the happy musical wins!!!! YES YES YES!
AMANDA: NO!
JAX: (Contented sigh)
AMANDA: I LIKE MUSICALS WHERE PEOPLE DIE! MUSICALLY!

(The entire cast of Pajama Game spills onto the stage, and everyone seems really happy.)

JAX: Dana's at the Roundabout party eh?
AMANDA: Yeah
JAX: Because they just blew up I'm sure.
AMANDA: She's gonna get soooo drunk!
JAX: Oh yes, and probably call us un the morning crying about something
AMANDA: Probably
JAX: (sigh)

(Dead Playwrights Jam 2006. Give it up for Wendy Wasserstein and August Wilson!)

AMANDA: Aw, Wass! Wils!
JAX: I know, man
AMANDA: I love Fences
JAX: Wils the Pittsburgher; Pittsburgh was so sad when he died
AMANDA: Wass, the Jew. The Jewish people were sad, too

(James Earl Jones makes it perfectly clear why he is the only Darth Vader by delivering an awesome monologue from "Fences".)

AMANDA: That was awesome: well done, JEJ

(Cynthia Nixon brings it with a monologue from "The Heidi Chronicles". Thank you, Cynthia. We'll be in touch.

Also, Alfre Woodard is there.)

AMANDA: I am distracted by that cleavage
JAX: I admit it... I think she's hot
AMANDA: She [Alfre] was the best Housewife; too bad they never gave her anything to do
JAX: She's not a housewife. oh -- Alfre. I was still thinking about Cynthia who I am wildly attracted to
AMANDA: Yeah, well, they both have awesome cleavage
JAX: Yes.
AMANDA: I'm thinking that in a certain outfit, James Earl Jones might have awesome cleavage, too

(Bring out your dead. Yearly death montage. Real downer, actually.)

AMANDA: Respectful silence: stay classy, Tony audience
JAX: Right on

(And on that sorrowful note, more commercials. Because advertisement should hit you when you're most vulnerable.)

JAX: I'm bored, something really good better happen like... now
AMANDA: Dude, my friend Jason is also IMing me, and I'm slightly drunk, and it's confusing me! Too many words!
JAX: hehe
AMANDA: Chardonnay: bad!
JAX: No no...it's so good

(Marcia Gay Harden and David Hyde Pierce do...something...I think they make out.)

JAX: MGH and DHP
AMANDA: More consonants than any other awards show!

(I'm sure someone wins something, but I'm past the point of remembering.)

AMANDA: (slurs:) How many awards'r left?
JAX: No idea, 1/2 hours worth
AMANDA: Well, I need a number!
JAX: Can't. 'Cause I don't know
AMANDA: F@#$ it, just give every award to The History Boys and Drowsy Chaperone and let's go home
JAX: YES! GREAT PLAN!
AMANDA: There are actors in that audience and they need to start DRINKING
JAX: Truth

(I think it's "Awake and Sing!" for Best Play Revival. I know it wins at some point. Let's just say now, okay?)

AMANDA: CHRIST, that is a lot of people
JAX: Seriously
AMANDA: You know, when I go to the Tony's I'm going to sit near the show that's sure to win, so I can sneak in with all the producers

(Oprah is here to present the show that she is producing, directing, choreographing, starring in, and making the costumes for.)

JAX: Hate you, Oprah
AMANDA: Ooh, I like her hair, though. I like everyone's hair tonight
JAX: Maybe.
AMANDA: "I am Oprah. Bow down!"
JAX: Again, I hate Oprah. She's dumb. and used to do trashy daytime talk shows just like Sally Jessie Raphael
AMANDA: Shuddup, her hair looks great!

(And the award for Outstanding Song Title: "Hell No" from "The Color Purple". Felicia P. Fields brings. it.)

AMANDA: Oh, I like this song
JAX: Hell No! I love it too
AMANDA: YES!
JAX: HELL NO!
AMANDA: HELL YES!
JAX: That's a great title
AMANDA: That is going to be the name of my one-woman show
JAX: HELL NO!
AMANDA: LaChanze has got that deer in headlights look
JAX: Yes she does.
AMANDA: Like: "Wow, I've been out-blacked"
JAX: Go girl! I f@#$ing love LaChanze
AMANDA: And, I lose interest, because I can never do this show

(The cast sings the title song, and it's impressive. I may have shed a tear.)

JAX: Her voice is like... HUGE
AMANDA: Wow, I just got gooesbumps
JAX: Me too, praise Jesus
AMANDA: A-MEnnnnnnnnnn
JAX: I wish I was black.

(Coming up: All these women are better than you!)

JAX: SUTTON!!!!
AMANDA: Cheets!
JAX: Pats!
AMANDA: LaChs!

(AMANDA leaves the computer and then returns.)

AMANDA: I'm back, and I've got cookies!
JAX: Word
AMANDA: Mmm. Chardonnay and cookies. I love eating while drunk: somehow it doesn't seem as bad

(And BACK!)

AMANDA: Wow, is that what Harry Belafonte looks like?
JAX: Apparently
AMANDA: Well, I want to say I think he looked more like Sidney Poitier, but I don't want to go to hell

(Oh crap, I am going to hell, aren't I? But, in my own defence, I wouldn't know the difference between Lynn and Vanessa Redgrave if you stood them next to each other and promised me a night with Alan Rickman if I could properly name them.

That's...that's not the same thing, is it?

OH LOOK! It's Best Actor In A Musical! Shiny!)

AMANDA: BOB MARTIN!
JAX: I vote Martin!

(That little cute guy from "Jersey Boys" wins.)

AMANDA: WAH!
JAX: F@#$.
AMANDA: He mauled the camera
JAX: Goddammut, why does everyone love Frankie Valli?
AMANDA: Wow, people love the Jersey Boys
JAX: Jersy Boys are full of sob stories
AMANDA: And straight guys

(Nankie Nalli accepts his award and he cries and is adorable and we all love him yay.)

AMANDA: I'm a little worried for Drowsy
JAX: Me too. Sutton must win (goes all crazy-eyed)
AMANDA: Calm down
JAX: The Jersey Boys all cry
AMANDA: They are such sensitive straight boys

(Bernadette Peters makes her mandatory Tony appearance. Because the day Bernadette stops appearing on the Tony's is the day the Earth will be engulfed in darkness.)

AMANDA: Do you have a drink?
JAX: Yes
AMANDA: Drink something
JAX: BERNADETTE!!!!
AMANDA: When I'm 56, I hope I look like I'm 15

(Oh, and there's James Naughton.)

AMANDA: "I'm James Naughton, and I have sex with my own voice"

(Best Actress. Musical.)

JAX: Sutton
AMANDA: LaChanze: Like Cher. Only awesome!
Jax: What was that face Patti just made?

(Sutton? Patti? Sutton? Patti?

LACHANZE??? What the f@#$ is going on here?)

JAX: F@#$
AMANDA: OMIGOD!!!!1!11!!1!
JAX: (Hates life cuts wrists)
AMANDA: !11!!!ONE!!!1!ELEVENTY!!1!!1!
JAX: There's nothing more to live for
AMANDA: Aaldfghaogajabvglq348502nb wa2omdfawk...oh hush
JAX: Oh Ti Moune. You will always be a part of us.
AMANDA: And after she won the Tony, she became...
JAX: Insane?
AMANDA: A TREE!

(In all fairness, LaChanze is quite lovely as she accepts her award. AMANDA likes her hair, too.)

AMANDA: Up next: Julie Andrews tells the audience to eat her busted vocal chords, bitches

(AMANDA and JAX confer during the commercials.)

JAX: So, I want Drowsy to win Best Musical
AMANDA: Me too
JAX: If it doesn't I'll go outside strip naked and cry
AMANDA: I kinda want you to do that anyways
JAX: Maybe I'll just eat

(Julie Andrews shows up to present the last and most importantest award of all: "Drowsy Chaperone". I mean, Best Musical. But it's totally "Drowsy". Come on.)

AMANDA: Julie Andrews: "Mary Martin didn't know her ass from her elbow. she can bite my living English ass."

(And..."Drowsy Chaperone". "Drowsy Chaperone.")

JAX: DROWSY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(Drow. sy. Chap. er. one.)
AMANDA: COME ON, DROWSY!

("Jersey Boys"? Oh, whatever!)

AMANDA & JAX: F@#$!

(It's bullshit.)

AMANDA: I mean, really! F@#K!

(Total bullshit. All the producers gather like swarms of undeserving wasps on the stage. They are lead by the one with the longest beard.)

AMANDA: Wow, that is one wicked beard
JAX: Who the hell is that rabbi?
AMANDA: Have you noticed that, without Dana, we are more politically incorrect than normal?
JAX: Yes. how odd.

(It's still bullshit.)

JAX: I'm too shocked to live.
AMANDA: Now they're just going to make more jukebox musicals and they're all gonna suck
JAX: I hate my life. (drowns self)
AMANDA: Although, if this means that there's going to be a Tori Amos musical, it will be worth it
JAX: Oh good Christ.

(And now the show is over.)

AMANDA: "I'm Julie Andrews: you can all bone my 60-year-old ass. Goodnight, and f@#$ you all!"

(JAX and AMANDA take stock.)

JAX: Another dissapointing Tony's. F@#$ Jersey Boys
AMANDA: Okay, let's do something to lift our spirits
JAX: I'm going to kill myself with sorrow
AMANDA: Let's speculate on where the winners will be 10 years from now
JAX: Dead. like me
AMANDA: Don't kill yourself. Speculate
JAX: (Cries)
AMANDA: SPECULATE, DAMNIT!
JAX: I don't know how; I only know my sorrow
AMANDA: IF YOU'VE NEVER DO ANOTHER THING, YOU WILL SPECULATE WITH ME NOW!
JAX: (Sigh), fine: as my last act of humor.
AMANDA: Okay: Madame Maxime
JAX: She'll be making Harry Potter 24: Ginny Has a Baby
AMANDA: Ian McDiarmid:
JAX: Who is that again?
AMANDA: (The guy who won for Faith Healer, who wasn't Ralph)
JAX: Mer. Who cares... Lord SexyMort AK'ed him for winning
AMANDA: Okay, we'll just say he went on to teach Math
JAX: Ha
AMANDA: Kathleen Marshall moved into her brother's house and polished her Tony's everyday
JAX: Correct....
AMANDA: Best Director John Doyle:
JAX: Went on to direct the revival of PeeWee's Playhouse
AMANDA: And won praise for his innovative use of actors playing the spoons
JAX: Check.
AMANDA: Awake and Sing author Clifford Odets...is still dead
JAX: Right.
AMANDA: Beth Leavel of the Drowsy Chaperone was arrested for public intoxication, even though she was completely sober
JAX: Right.
AMANDA: Cynthia Nixon...
JAX: Dropped her ugly lesbian girlfriend for a more beautiful up and coming actress Jackie Pepe. They then adopted several Asian children and moved to the Hamptons
AMANDA: Richard Griffiths, of The History Boys...
JAX: Is that Uncle Vernon?
AMANDA: Yes...he bought a lot of white tuxedos
JAX: And loved his wife, until he died of being fat and sweaty
AMANDA: He ate his Tony so it will always be a part of him
JAX: HAHAHAHA
AMANDA: No, wait...RALPH ate the Tony
JAX: He unhinged his jaw and jut consumed it
AMANDA: And then he died because he was too handsome to live
JAX: He's so pretty, I want him to live with Cynthia and I
AMANDA: This is fun! BOOZE!
JAX: Booze is good.
AMANDA: 10 years later, we still don't care about those guys from Jersey Boys
JAX: They're still "straight"
AMANDA: LaChanze continued her winning streak by performing the role of Prince in Purple Rain: The Musical. The Best Musical of 2016 is Orlando Boys: the N*SYNC Musical
JAX: Shut the f@#$ up
AMANDA: Something won for Best Play, but without music, nobody really cared: and that's the end
JAX: Mokay
AMANDA: It was nice snarking with you, Jax
JAX: Always a lovely time
AMANDA: Same time, next year?
JAX: You know it
AMANDA: Awesome
JAX: But if you don't call me before that we're not friends anymore.
AMANDA: Right. Goodnight! BOOZE!
JAX: WOO!

(At some point, "The History Boys" won Best Play, but I forget when. AMANDA falls asleep in Snarkjuice™-induced stupor.)

copyright © 2006 Musical Decomposition

Lestat: Decomposed (brought to you by Dana)

2006-05-18T11:23:00.000-07:00

Lestat
music by Elton John
lyrics by Bernie Taupin
book by Linda Woolverton
based on the novels by Anne Rice

Notes: Could it be? Did Amanda actually get off her lazy ass and write another Decomposition? No, not really. But her friend Dana relayed this incredible synopsis of Elton John's latest stab at credibility (just put the knife down, Elty. You'll put someone's eye out.). Enjoy, gentle reader.

ACT I:

DANA: Okay. So, Lestat's all "I killed wolves it was awesome see my knife I stabbed them with it let me smear the blood on my knife all over my face and orgasm over how wonderful it was". So that's the first song. Then the first scene is "Hey ma! I killed a pack of wolves!" "Oh my God Lestat you're nuts!" "Hey Dad! I killed a pack of wolves!" "You weirdo you're messed up like your mom!" (hits Lestat) "Hey dad! you suck! Mom! Dad sucks cuz he hits us! I'm going to Paris!" Cut to Paris: backstage at a theatre and Lestat finds his childhood "friend". "Oh my God! Lestat I've missed you! Glad you're here! Come sleep at my place!" Cut to Nicholas' place "Oh P.S. I have a twin bed" "That's okay, cuz dude I've always had a crush on you" "Me too" "Play your violin for me" Then all of a sudden a random voice and special rippling lighting effect: "LESTAT!!!" "Dude did you hear that? Someone called my name!" "Dude you're nuts" "Dude--I'm going for a walk...at 3 a.m. in 17th century Paris" Lestat walks thru a mysterious alleyway and keeps hearing his name. Suddenly, this weird dude comes out of nowhere. "Dude why do you keep saying my name?" "Because I choose you! Say you want it!" "Dude I am not having sex with you" "No dummy! I want to suck your blood!" "Dude--ok!" Weird dude bites Lestat's neck, tells him to beware the fire, and then jumps into a magical pit of fire that just suddenly appears. (bad special effect where you see the dude take a ride on the elevator behind the flame) Lestat runs away and starts biting people's necks. Oh P.S.- to become a vampire they have to not only have their neck bitten but the victim needs to basically then drink the blood out of the vampire's wrist. REALLY F***ED UP. Okay, so then cut to Lestat's mom in Paris visiting Nicholas: "I always knew you boys would move to Paris together and have a wonderfully illicit love affair". Basically, Mommy loves her little psycho wolf-killing fruit cake. "Yadiyada where's Lestat I am getting sooo sick" "Yadiyada I don't know I haven't seen him for days". Lestat sneaks in, sees Mommy, and Nicholas freaks and runs away. Next scene I can recall is in Mommy's hotel room. She's suddenly about 90 and freaking DYING. Lestat comes to visit. "My son? I'm so sick I'm blind I can't see you". So, then he says "Hey ma, I'm a vampire as of a last night" and she goes "oh good; make me one too" and he's like "are you crazy wench?" and she goes "JUST DO IT DAMMIT!" so then Lestat bites Mom's neck and she sucks the blood out of his wrist and she's like "WHOOPIE!!! I'M ALIVE!!" and Lestat's like "Mom you need to take it easy" and Mom's like "dude--I'm not your mom--I'M AWESOME!". So then something goes on--can't remember what exactly. Oh! I remember! Mom goes crazy and wants to suck EVERYONE's blood, and Lestat's like "chill woman you're making me crazy" and she goes "hey! Let's play a game with God! Let's go into the church!" and Lestat's like "you're nuts", but they do, like dumbasses. So, they're goofing off and being blasphemous up the wazoo, and suddenly this dude appears and is like "hey! You're gonna get all us vampires f***ed! Come with me before I freaking find a magical firepit to throw you in!" So they follow this guy, and it turns out he's this freak who has his own gang of vampires who he emotionally abuses cuz he's messed like that. And he's like "you don't get it! We're messed up and can never leave this cemetary ever! You freaks!" and they're like "we're not the freaks! YOU'RE the freaks!" "No you are!" "No you are!" "Nuh-uh!" "Yuh-huh!" and so on and so forth. And then Lestat and Mommy prove Nutso Guy is nutso and all the vampires suddenly go "hey! We can go out in public at night! Let's become actors and start our own weird-ass miming theatre troupe!" So they do. And suddenly this weird-ass mime play is put on and someone narrates it and there are lots of masks and random fabric everywhere and someone named Marius is mentioned. Oh! And somewhere in there Weirdo Freak Boy tells Lestat "hey Lestat, why don't you turn your boyfriend into a vampire?" and Lestat goes "no! Cuz I love him!" and Nicholas goes "no! I want to be with you! Make me one too!" So Lestat tries and something happens and he winds up f***ing Nicholas up instead. So Nicholas is now a retarded vampire who can only play the violin and Lestat is like "Nicky my love! I will find this weird and elusive Marius who is all powerful and we will save you!". So he takes his retarded violin-playing boyfriend and takes Mommy and they go by foot all over freaking Eurasia looking for this Marius dude who of course never shows up and one day Mommy goes "dude--you need to leave Retarded Violin-Playing Vampire Boy alone cuz he's holding us back" P.S. she's dressed like a man by this point and actually has been since before the church bit. Like that was her first thing as a vampire: put on man's clothes. Cuz I guess she really wants to be a gay man, so she's like "dude you're on your own--you're going without me" but Lestat's like "Mommy I love you" (makeout) WTF?? So she leaves and Lestat goes "oh well--she's right!" (MAGIC PIT OF FIRE APPEARS) and Lestat goes "dude--you're too much baggage--we're breaking up" (dumps RV-PVB into fire; bad special effect where we see him stand up behind the "wall o' flames" to take a ride on the elevator) Magic Fire goes away, Lestat tosses ashes, gets pissy, sings a song about it. All of a sudden--ROCK PARTS--THERE'S MARIUS!! and Lestat goes "MARIUS! YOU F***ER!" End Act 1.

ACT II:

DANA: Lestat and Marius are fishing, cuz you know that's what vampires do. They fish, but they don't eat the fish. They play "let's throw them back". So they're fishing and Lestat is like "dude why'd you f*** up?" and Marius is like "eh, I wanted to" and Lestat is like "dude so what's the deal? Especially with Weirdo Freakazoid and his gang?" and Marius is like "dude I made him and I F***ED UP!" so we realize that Weirdo Freakazoid who thinks he's Marius' little angel is actually Marius' big mistake--SUCKS TO BE HIM. Anyways, Lestat goes "dude--my mom thinks she's a gay man and has run off, I just tossed my retarded violin-playing boyfriend into a pit of fire, and you showed up after the fact--NOW WHAT?" And Marius goes "eh--go to America?" So Lestat goes "okay" and he does. He gets to New Orleans and it's raunchy as hell and Lestat goes "Oh yeah--daddy's gonna have a good time!" so he goes and he sees some poor drunk sap and goes "dude! what's wrong?? Get yourself laid or something!" and the guy goes "I just failed at committing suicide" and Lestat goes "oh well--then I'll suck your blood" and turns him into a vampire and Lestat's like "sweet! I have a new boyfriend! But something's missing in my life" and then he sees a sick girl in the streets and goes "honey what's wrong?" and she goes "my parents are dead and I'm dying" and Lestat goes "I'll be your new daddy--hell you can have 2 daddies!" so he turns her into a vampire and then I'm not sure what but suddenly we jump and everyone's settled and comfortable and we find out that Claudia has killed every staff member in the house and has a mountain full of dolls and we find out she's a sick little f*** cuz she sings this whole song about wanting more and Lestat is like "dudes--chill--life is sweet" and Louis (new bf) is like "dude no it's not" and Claudia's like "Daddy 2 is right--you suck as a daddy" and it's ball season so Louis and Lestat say "hey! Hunting season! Yay!" and take Claudia and go dancing. Claudia admits she's 12 but in love with Louis and then gets an idea: she drugs this random chick and takes her back home so Lestat goes for it and it winds up almost killing him... but it doesn't so she goes "f***er! You're supposed to die!" so she lights a fire and her and Louis run out of the house and they disappear and Lestat gets jaded and decides "f*** America! I'm going back home to Europe!" so he storms off back to Europe and goes to the theatre and they're doing "Dracula" (oooh soo ironic) and guess who's there? Lestat goes "F***ERS TRIED TO KILL ME!!" but Weirdoboy McFreaky is also there and goes "so we'll kill them!" and Louis points at Claudia and goes "dudes! It's all her! I didn't know any better!" so they strap her into a chair during the sunrise: bye bye Claudia. Louis...crap I can't remember what happens to him, but Lestat and W.M. wind up on the roof somehow and Lestat goes "Marius doesn't love you!" and W.M. goes "does too!" "does not!" "yuh-huh!" "nah-uh!" "really?" "yup" "DAMMIT!" and then they fight and I can't remember what happens but Weirdo Freakazoid McBoogly-butt dies and Lestat is like "YES! VICTORY IS MINE! I'M THE MAN!" but actually he's kind of not cuz he fell or something and his legs are "broken" but he's a dumbass and forgets that he lives forever cuz he's a vampire! And suddenly Marius and crazy Mommy are there going "yes Lestat! You can walk! Get up! Be the glorious vampire you were meant to be!" and then all of a sudden Lestat comes out in like a red button-down shirt and jeans and is like "I'm still here bitches! and I'm not going anywhere!" AAAAAND....CURTAIN!

copyright © 2006 Musical Decomposition

CATS: Decomposed

2005-12-30T12:23:00.000-08:00

CATS
music by Andrew Lloyd Webber
based on the work of T.S. Eliot. Yes really.
Notes: Sometimes, you can fool all of the people all of the time. On the one hand, this show gave Terrence Mann unto the world. On the other hand, it horked up giant, pretentious hairballs all over Broadway for eighteen years. Then again...I'm sure there must be something else good about "CATS"...but...eighteen years.

It was the best of shows, it was the worst of shows. It wore out it's welcome many times over, but finally it went to the big flying tire in the sky.

Still...eight. teen. years.

ACT I

(Scene: an alley in vaguely-80s-Edwardian England. I believe. Or maybe not.

There are cats.)

CATS: Scratch! Lick! Lick! Purr! Kick! Scratch! Scratch! Lick! Lick! Purr! Kick! Scratch! Scratch! Lick! Lick! Purr! Kick! Scratch!

(There are more cats. Some Thundercat in S&M gear Ricky-Martins his pelvis all over the stage. Also, there is a shoe. And tap-dancing. And possibly a war.)

CATS: That connects with...Purr! Purr! Flick! Flick! Hiss! Scratch! Step! Turn! Lick! Lick! Purr! Kick! Spray!

GRIZABELLA: What am I? A mouse on heroin or something?

(Intermission.)

ACT II

CATS: Second verse, same as the first! Spray!

(Stuff happens. It might have been plot, but...can't...remember...brain...hurts...)

GRIZABELLA: Is it feline leukemia? Catnip abuse? Seriously, what the hell's wrong with me?

(Curtain. Garnish with tire.)

© copyright 2005 Musical Decomposition

Jane Eyre: Decomposed

2005-11-29T19:22:00.000-08:00

Jane Eyre
Music by Paul Gordon
Lyrics by Paul Gordon and John Caird
Book by John Caird based on the novel by Charlotte Bronte
Notes: Winter, 2000. It was a happier time, a simpler time. There was no war in Iraq, the two towers still loomed over New York. People seemed to laugh more then...there were concerts in the park.
Of course things changed. Please read about this nice little musical from those halcyon days, and maybe, just maybe, we can remember that there was a time when James Barbour wasn't a Scientologist.

ACT I

(The dignified form of JANE EYRE approaches the stage with simple grace.)

JANE: Gentle audience, WASSUP BITCHES!

(The place: Gateshead, where spirits go to be broken. We see YOUNG JANE playing by herself in the attic. O, woe is little orphan JANE! Wither the handsome strapping barritone who will set her heart and her soul free? Will she be crushed by life before she’s old enough to get any?)

JANE: So, I was an orphan, and that sucked. And my foster family had that unfortunate nineteenth century villainy disease that afflicts many fictional Victorian characters. I spent a lot of time in the attic, which was fine, if you considered the alternative.
JOHN REED: (Emerging from trap-door) Jane, my fist is a little smudged. POLISH IT WITH YOUR FACE!
YOUNG JANE: OW! MY SPIRIT!
MRS. REED: JANE! How dare you not let your cousin use you as a punching bag! You will pay for this.
JOHN REED: Ha-ha!
YOUNG JANE: Oh, this can’t be good.

(Lowood School for Strong-Willed Orphans...)

MRS. SCATCHERD: All of you SIT DOWN AND SHUT UP! LITTLE GIRLS, LITTLE GIRLS, EVERYDAY I EAT DRINK AND BREATHE THEM...
SOME STUDENT: Psst! Wrong musical.
MRS. SCATCHERD: I SAID SHUT THE HELL UP!
MR. BROCKLEHURST: Students, this is our newest pupil, Jane Eyre. Her benefactress, Mrs. Reed, informs me that she is prone to lying.
YOUNG JANE: Mrs. Reed is a vengeful bitch!
MR. BROCKLEHURST: You see! So, nobody talk or associate at all with young Jane, or your souls will burn in hell.
YOUNG JANE: It feels like home already.
JANE: Things were not looking good, but then I made a friend!
HELEN: Jane, you’ve got, like, serious anger issues.
YOUNG JANE: But Mr. Brocklehurst made me stand on a stool! In front of everyone! First my family mistreats me, then my teachers abuse me. Why is everyone in my life always giving me shit?
HELEN: I dunno, but if you’re relaxed and groovy about it, then you get into heaven.
YOUNG JANE: Do you honestly believe that?
HELEN: Do I have much of a choice?
YOUNG JANE: Touche.
JANE: So, Helen and I were BFFs, and for a while things didn’t seem so bad. But then one day...

(The stage swings around to reveal HELEN in a tiny bed. She no look so good.)

HELEN: Jane, I’m dying of Thyphus.
YOUNG JANE: Nooooooooo!!! You were the only person I knew who didn’t hit me with things! Why must you leave me?!
HELEN: It’s all good, Jane. I’m going to go to heaven, and someday I’ll meet you there, too.
YOUNG JANE: Oh...that heaven thing...right...
JANE: So, Helen died, and I decided to make some major changes in my life.
YOUNG JANE: I’m going to make some major changes in my life!
JANE: The next eight years of my life are so boring, Charlotte Bronte did not even bother to write about them. Anyway, the closer we get to the good bits, the happier we’ll all be. I’m eighteen now, and I’ve become a teacher. And for some reason, a weird ghostly chorus follows me around and talks about my life.
GHOSTLY CHORUS: Rock on. Well, Jane went through the mundane life as a Thornfield teacher, day in, day out. Yet, her spirit could not be broken, so she left to become a governess and claim her freedom.
JANE: So, why did I spend so many years at a place that sucked?
GHOSTLY CHORUS: Honey, the adults are talking.

(JANE goes to Thornfield for her new job.)

MRS. FAIRFAX: Ah, you must be the new governess! I’m the lovably befuddled Mrs. Fairfax. And this is Robert, the butler. He’s nice, but a bit queer.
AUDIENCE: Tee-hee!
MRS. FAIRFAX: I meant “queer” as in“strange”, feebs! God, did you even read the book?
AUDIENCE: (hang heads in shame)
MRS. FAIRFAX: This is your student, Adele.
ADELE: Bonjour! Ah am French, but for zee sake of zees production Ah only ‘ave zees OUTRAGEOUS accent! Come, Robert! Ah blow mah nose at choo!
JANE: She’s...cute.
MRS. FAIRFAX: Yes, but quite the handful. Mr. Rochester and I think she might have ADD.
JANE: Mr. Who-what-now?
MRS. FAIRFAX: Rochester. Owns the place. Don’t you know him?
JANE: You mean, you don’t own Thornfield?
MRS. FAIRFAX. Oh, bless your heart, dear! No, I’m just the comic relief. But Mr. Rochester is hardly ever here. I doubt he’ll show up and change your life or anything.
MYSTERIOUS VOICE: BWAHAHAHAHA!!!
JANE: AHHH!!! What the hell was that?
MRS. FAIRFAX: Just a little plot point, dear. These old houses often have them. Oh, have you met Grace Poole?
GRACE: Greetings, Miss Eyre. Hope you’re a light sleeper. BWAHAHAHAHA!!!
JANE: ...

(Sometime later...)

GHOSTLY CHORUS: So, Jane got a sweet new job and decided to celebrate by taking a walk. Woo-hoo! As she walked down the path a horse suddenly came down the road. Jane had nowhere to go! She was trapped!
JANE: AHHH!!!
OFF-STAGE HORSE: AHHH!!!
OFF-STAGE VOICE: AHHH!!!
GHOSTLY CHORUS: A stranger fell off his horse.
FOXY STRANGER: (rolls onstage)
PEOPLE WHO READ THE BOOK: Wha-??
EVERYONE ELSE: Ooooh!
JANE: Are you injured, sir?
FOXY STRANGER: Not at all, I only FELL OFF MY DAMN HORSE! What do you think?
JANE: Well, if you’re going to be a bitch about it, I’ll just go home.
FOXY STRANGER: Home? Where do you live?
JANE: Thornfield. I’m the new governess.
FOXY STRANGER: Reeeeeeeally? So, how do you like the owner?
JANE: Don’t know. Never met him.
FOXY STRANGER: Well, you better go, then. Thanks for knocking me off my horse. Bye! (exits)
JANE: ‘The hell?

(JANE goes back to Thornfield...)

MRS. FAIRFAX: Jane! Mr. Rochester is back!
JANE: Wha-???
GHOSTLY CHORUS: Turns out the Foxy Stranger was Mr. Rochester all along! Who saw that one coming?
BRONTE PURISTS: (grumblegrumblenotsupposedtobefoxygrumblegrumblenoPilotgrumble)
REST OF AUDIENCE: SHUT UP! HE’S HAWT!
ADELE: Meess Eyre! Come an’ meet mah fake daddy!
ROCHESTER: Adele, why don’t you and Mrs. Fairfax piss off?
ADELE AND MRS. FAIRFAX: (piss off)
ROCHESTER: Ah, alone at last.
JANE: Again.
ROCHESTER: Whatever. So, tell me, Miss Eyre, how do you like Thornfield?
JANE: Very much, sir.
ROCHESTER: Do you find me handsome?
JANE: No sir.
AUDIENCE: LIAR!
ROCHESTER: Ooh, fiesty! But I can also tell you’re good of heart. Once upon a time, I was too...
JANE: (sotto voce:) Ooh, this is gonna be good.
ROCHESTER: (kickin’ it backstory style:) Well, when I was much younger, I had intimate relations with a French opera dancer. She dumped me for someone else, and years later when I saw her again she had a daughter, Adele. She said that she was also mine, and politely asked me to take the little one to Thornfield as she was getting in the way of her whoring. Tthat is how Adele came to live at Thornfield. You may go get your things, I’ll call you a cab.
JANE: What do you mean?
ROCHESTER: Well, this is 1847. Don’t you want to cross your self and scream or faint or something?
JANE: Uh, not today.
ROCHESTER: Wait, you mean...you’re cool with this?
JANE. Yeah. Do you have any other dirtly laundry you’d like to air out?
ROCHESTER: ...no?
JANE: Sweet. Then, I’m going to bed. ‘Night. (exits)
ROCHESTER: Wow. Nice girl. I am absolutely not attracted to her at all. Yet.

(Late that night...)

MYSTERIOUS FIGURE: BWAHAHAHA!!! Burninating the bed curtains! Burninating the linens! (torches ROCHESTER’s bed, and skedaddles)
JANE: What’s going on? Who was laughing? What was so funny?
ROCHESTER’S BED: (burns)
JANE: GAH!!! THAT’S NOT FUNNY! WAKE UP, MR. ROCHESTER!
ROCHESTER: (does not wake up)
JANE: WAKEUPWAKEUPWAKEUP!!!
ROCHESTER: (still does not wake up)
JANE: STOP, DROP AND ROLL, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!
ROCHESTER: (no wakey)
JANE: GAH! (empties pitcher on Rochester)
ROCHESTER: AHH!!! I’M ALL WET!
AUDIENCE: HOORAY!
JANE: Someone set your sheets on fire!
ROCHESTER: What are you talking about?! I don’t have a crazy wife in the attic!
JANE: ...what?
ROCHESTER: I mean...oh look! You’re cold. Would you like my coat? Of course you would. Well, there ya go. Goodnight Jane.
JANE: Sir! Someone just tried to KILL you!
ROCHESTER: What? You want a hand shake, too? Well, fine. There. No questions. Goodnight! (exits)
JANE: He nearly immolated and then he brushed me off. Why...it must be love!

(The next morning, JANE’s boudoir)

GRACE: Wake up, Miss Eyre.
JANE: (waking) Wha-? Is it morning? What time is- (sees GRACE) AUGHHH!!!
GRACE: Nice to see you, too. Look, Mr. Rochester is having some guests over today, so he asked me to give you this slightly-less-black dress to put on.
JANE: Ooh, off-the-shoulder. Nice. Say, Grace, you didn’t hear anything suspicious last night, did you?
GRACE: Nope. Not a thing. BWAHAHAHA!!!
JANE: (backs away slowly)

CHORUS: And then, some rich people showed up: all pretty and rich, and Blanche Ingram was the prettiest girl with the highest notes of them all. Oh, did we mention that Jane is kind of plain? We thought that was kind of obvious, even though Marla Schaffel is a supa-fine lady.
ROCHESTER: Oh, Blanche! Your lovely face and coloratura is just what my life has been missing!
JANE: (whimpering, sotto voce) I’m so plain! And I’m a mezzo! What chance do I have?
ROCHESTER: Well, now that I’ve surrounded myself with all you pretty, rich people absolutely NOTHING can bring me down!
ROBERT: (entering) Sir, there is somebody here to see you: a Mr. Richard M. Plotpoint of Plotpoint Town, Jamaica.
ROCHESTER: Oh, bugger.
JANE: Are you alright, sir?
ROCHESTER: Jane, let’s say hypothetically, that I had done something very very bad in my past. Something I cannot escape. Something bad enough to freak out the Richie Riches and boot me out of all decent society.
JANE: You’re...not a Scientologist, are you?
ROCHESTER: No.
JANE: Well, then, I don’t know what could be so wrong that you could not attone for.
ROCHESTER: Alrighty. Well, off you go, Jane.
GHOSTLY CHORUS: Torn by their inner passions and guilt, Rochester and Jane simultaneously sing of their unrequited love.
ROCHESTER/JANE: I AM SO IN LOVE WITH HER/HIM AND I CAN’T SHOW IT.
MYSTERIOUS FIGURE: THATCHED-ROOF COTTAGES!!!!!
ROCHESTER/JANE: OI! GET OUT OF OUR ACT I FINALE, YOU SHROUDED SLUT!

ACT II

GHOSTLY CHORUS: Welcome back. Did you have a nice intermission? Was there a line in the ladies room? Man, I hate that. Anyway, Jane still loves Rochester. Rochester still loves Jane. Neither of them will own up to it. Will they get together, or what? If you’ve read the book, you already know, and even if you haven’t, well, what happens to unrequited lovers in musicals nine times out of ten anyway? Exactly. Anyhoo, here’s Richard (you know? That guy who showed up before that frantic duet?), so on with the show.
RICHARD: (searches with lamp) Poopsie...Poopsie...Poopsie...
MYSTERIOUS FIGURE: Hey, buddy! This ain’t Poopsie! I STRIKE AGAIN! (chomp.)

(Some time later...)

ROCHESTER: Psst! Jane! Are you awake and fully dressed?
JANE: Oddly enough, yes.
ROCHESTER: Oh good! Well, then can you give me a hand? Mr. Plotpoint had an “acident”.
RICHARD: (is bleeding buckets)
JANE: OH MY DEAR GOD IN HEAVEN! Did someone BITE his throat?!
ROCHESTER: No, I’m sure he just fell.
JANE: On someone’s teeth?!
ROCHESTER: Just help me sneak Mr. Plotpoint out of the house in the middle of the night, as per normal procedure in these type of situations. Nothing out of the ordinary, no need to ask questions.
RICHARD: (woozy) She seemed so calm when I found her.
ROCHESTER: Whoa there, Richard. You’ve lost a lot of blood. You’re getting delerious. You don’t know what you’re talking about.
RICHARD: (woozier still) Just take good care of her...
ROCHESTER: Oh, sure, Richard. I’ll take “good care” of “her”. I’ll get the “pixies” and “unicorns” to help. WHATEVER you say. Off you go now.
RICHARD: (stumbles off)
ROCHESTER: Heh-heh. Oh, that Richard! He always talks crazy when he’s had a severe blood loss. Now, abruptly changing the subject: Jane, what do you think of Miss Ingram?
JANE: I think she’s a spoiled, vindictive gold-digger who’s only after you for your money.
ROCHESTER: Yeah, but she’s pretty, so it doesn’t really matter. Well, goodnight Jane! (leaves)
JANE: OH, BUGGER! WHO AM I KIDDING?! I’M SO NOT PRETTY! EDWARD WOULD NEVER MARRY A STUPID, STINKY OLD GOVERNESS WHO DRESSES LIKE A CHEKHOV SPINSTER!
NICE GHOSTLY CHORUS: Jane then paints two pictures: one of herself on her worst hair day, and one of Blanche at her prettiest, wittiest, and brightest.
JANE: You know what? This did not make me feel better. (bawls)

(The next day, in the garden at Thornfield...)

BLANCHE: OH, I AM SO HAPPY! I’m going to marry Edward and have pots of money, and it doesn’t even bother me that I don’t love him! SQUEEEEE!!!
JANE: I’ll miss you, tree! I’ll miss you, shrub! I’ll miss you, twig! Oh, Blimey! THIS SUCKS!
BLANCHE’S RICH POSSE: Oh, Blanchey! We’re soooooo bored! We totally respect you in your gold-digging pursuits, but we’re all going stir-crazy!
BLANCHE: Oh, word times infinity. This show is, like, five years long, and I get fifteen minutes of stage time.
POSSE: WAAAAAAHHH!!! IS THERE NOTHING TO DO IN THIS GOD-FORSAKEN LAND?!?!
ROBERT: (entering) An old gypsy woman has arrived, and if any young lady going crazy from boredom in this God-forsaken land would like to visit her and have their fortunes told, they may do so.
BLANCHE AND RICH GIRLS: Whoo-hoo!
ROBERT: Miss Eyre, you may visit, too.
JANE: Me? Why would I want to have my fortune told by an old fraud?
ROBERT: Because it’s free.
JANE: Woot! I’m there!

(A room in Thornfield...)

GYPSY: (to the POSSE:) Okay, here are your fortunes: you all suck.
POSSE: (pouts)
BLANCHE: What about me?
GYPSY: You’re a conniving, heartless golddigger.
BLANCHE: ...and?
GYPSY: And you will never know true happiness because you place material worth over what is real and good.
BLANCHE: ...and?
GYPSY: And the guy you’re chasing isn’t really rich.
BLANCHE: Gah! The horror! I’ma gettin’ out of here! I have all my life to live, I’ve got all my love to give. I will survive. I WILL SURVIVE! (exuent rich people)
GYPSY: And you, young lady. What would you like to know?
JANE: What have you got, Miss Cleo?
GYPSY: Well, how about the guy that owns this place? I hear he’s quite a dish, wouldn’t you agree? He’s single, right?
JANE: Waaaaaaaiiit a minute. Who are you, really?
GYPSY: (rips off disguise)
JANE: Why, it’s Old Man Rochester! The guy who owns the haunted estate!
ROCHESTER: And I would have gotten away with it, too, if it hadn’t been for that meddling governess!
ROBERT: (entering) Mr. Rochester, the rich folk have all up and left without any warning.
ROCHESTER: Oh no. They are. Gone. I am. So sad...Fancy a walk in the garden, Jane?
JANE: Sure.

(Back in the garden...)

ROCHESTER: So, Jane. You’ve worked out really well as a governess. As your boss, I would like to know if you’ve enjoyed your employment here.
JANE: It’s been pretty sweet, sir.
ROCHESTER: Good. Well, for your next governess assignment...
JANE: Wha-??
ROCHESTER: Oh, didn’t I tell you? I’ve taken the liberty of finding you a new place. How does Ireland sound?
JANE: Ireland?! I...but...I...
ROCHESTER: Jane what’s the matter? You’d rather go to Scotland?
JANE: NO, I WOULD NOT RATHER GO TO SCOTLAND, YOU DUMBASS! I’D RATHER STAY HERE, YOU IGNORANT DOOF!!! DON’T YOU KNOW I’VE BEEN IN LOVE WITH YOU SINCE ACT I, AND YOU’VE BEEN MACKING ON THE RICH BITCH RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME THE ENTIRE TIME, YOU SELF-IMPORTANT, OBLIVIOUS BASTARD!!!
ROCHESTER: Well, actually, I’d rather marry you.
JANE: AND ANOTHER THING...what?
ROCHESTER: I want to marry you, Jane.
JANE: Huh? Buh? Is this Opposite Day?
ROCHESTER: Come on, Janie, you’re the woman I’m meant to be with. You are my second self. We’re so much alike. We’re both insanely attractive, even though every character in the show says otherwise. We’re perfect for each other.
JANE: So, what was the deal with Sarah Brightman then?
ROCHESTER: A clever scheme to get you to fall in love with me.
JANE: Well, okay. I guess that’s...wait...what?
ROCHESTER: Look, do you want to marry me or not?
JANE: I dunno...
ROCHESTER: Need convincing? Well, how about THIS.
JANE: (swoons) Oh...he sing pretty!
ROCHESTER: Call me “Edward”.
JANE: Edward.
ROCHESTER: Call me “Eddie”!
JANE: Eddie!
ROCHESTER: Call me “My Smoking English Love Crumpet”!
JANE: ...
ROCHESTER: ...
JANE: ...
ROCHESTER: ...
JANE: So, can we make out now?
ROCHESTER: Hell yeah.
AUDIENCE: FINALLY!
ROCHESTER: Come, Jane! Let us prepare for our wedding!
PEOPLE WHO HAVEN’T READ THE BOOK: Wow. This was a short show.

(Another room in Thornfield...how big is this house, anyway?)

SOME SERVANTS: (look out imaginary window)
A SERVANT: What happened?
ANOTHER SERVANT: The Old Chestnut Tree, which has not even been mentioned until now, has been split in half by lightning.
A SERVANT: Well, that can’t be good.
MRS. FAIRFAX: OUT OF MY WAY, MINIONS! FEATURED CHARACTER COMING THOUGH, AND SHE’S MIGHTY PISSED!
ADELE: Peessed about what, Madame?
MRS. FAIRFAX: OH MY GOD! I CAN’T BELIEVE IT! IN ALL MY YEARS! THE MASTER MARRYING THE GOVERNESS!
ADELE: WHEE!!! Ah ‘ave a fake mommy to go weez mah fake daddy!
JANE: (entering) Morning Adele, Mrs. Fairfax!
MRS. FAIRFAX: JANE, YOU AVENTAGEOUS LITTLE SLUT! HOW DARE YOU MARRY ABOVE YOUR STATION!!! HAVE YOU NO SHAME?!?!
JANE: You do know you’re invited to the wedding, don’t you Mrs. Fairfax?
MRS. FAIRFAX: ...Please, call me “Mom”!

(The wedding ceremony. Those who haven’t read the book begin to put their coats on.)

PRIEST: Dearly beloved...
LAWYER: Stop this wedding!
JANE, ROCHESTER, MRS. FAIRFAX, PRIEST: Wha-??
LAWYER: My client here says that this wedding cannot go on!
MRS. FAIRFAX: Who?
LAWYER: Him! (dramatic finger)
JANE: Mr. Plotpoint?!
ROCHESTER: Oh shit.
RICHARD: Edward here has already married, and his wife is still alive, and THEY ARE STILL MARRIED.
EVERYONE: (gasp!)
JANE: Edward, it’s not true, is it?
ROCHESTER: ...Oh, hell. Field trip to the attic, everyone.

(The attic...)

GHOSTLY CHORUS: Grace plays “Babysitters Club” to the Mysterious Figure, aka, Mrs. Bertha Rochester. It turns out she’s crazy...like, Gary Oldman crazy.
ROCHESTER: Alright, everyone. This is my wife, Bertha. Bertha, this is everyone.
BERTHA: BLAHBUGGEDEHBUGGEDEHBLEEBLEESOCRAZY!
RICHARD: Sis! How are ya? Remember me? You tried to kill me the other night! You were always the outgoing one.
EVERYONE: ...
MRS. FAIRFAX: Oh...so, uh, this is...your wife...well...she seems...she’s rather...
ROCHESTER: SHE’S BAT-SHIT INSANE, ALRIGHT? No need to namby-pamby around that; you can’t hurt her feelings!
BERTHA: PSYCHO-CRUSHER!
ROCHESTER: Damnit, Grace! Hold her back! What the hell do you think I’m paying you for?
JANE: How the...when did...hudda...wudda...?
ROCHESTER: Okay, backstory: My dad decided to marry me off so that my older brother could solely inherit Thornfield. They introduced me to Bertha in Jamaica, who seemed perfectly normal at the time. However, what everyone but me knew was that Bertha’s mom went crazy from some weird genetic defect that Richard will probably inherit, too.
RICHARD: Hey!
ROCHESTER: So, sometime after we got married, Bertha ate her crazycakes, my dad and brother died, and I got suicidally depressed. My only choice was to move BACK to England, tell no one about my marriage, hire a completely inept guardian to watch over my wife in the attic, and live as if nothing had happened. So, you see, it’s all good! I’m sorry I decieved you, Jane. I know we can never marry now, but that doesn’t change anything between us, does it?
JANE: ...
ROCHESTER: Jane?
JANE: ...
ROCHESTER: Jane?!?!
JANE: ...
ROCHESTER: DAMNIT, JANE!
JANE: Oh...What would Jesus do?
JESUS: RUN LIKE HELL!
JANE: (runs like hell)
ROCHESTER: GAH! NO PAIN COULD BE DEEPER! NO LIFE COULD BE CHEAPER! NO POINT ANYMORE, IF I CAN’T LOVE HER!!!
SOME AUDIENCE MEMBER: Psst! Wrong musical!
ROCHESTER: (grumbles)

(Meanwhile...)

BERTHA: CRAZY I AM! I am ROCHDOR: THE BURNINATOR! (plays with fire, Thornfield goes up in flames)
BERTHA: (also goes up in flames)
ROCHESTER, ADELE, MRS. FAIRFAX, ETC.: ???

(Somewhere far, far away from the flaming mansion...)

GHOSTLY CHORUS: In her haste to get away from Edward, Jane may have forgotten a few things...like food, water, and money.
JANE: Hmmm, didn’t really think this through. (keels over)
CHEERFUL GOOBER: (entering) Oh my God! Are you alright, miss?
JANE: Eh, not really. Who are you?
CHEERFUL GOOBER: St. John Rivers.
BRONTE PURISTS: (facepalm)
ST. JOHN: You look a little tired. Why don’t you rest at the house where I’m looking after a dying widow.
JANE: Oh my God! I’m back at Gateshead!
BRONTE PURISTS: (head for the concession stand bar)

(MRS. REED’s room...)

MRS. REED: (waking up) AUGH! Oh, I just had a horrible dream. That wretched Jane Eyre had come back to haunt me!
JANE: Hello, Aunt Reed.
MRS. REED: AUUUGGGGHHH!!! WAKE WAKE WAKE!!!
JANE: You’re not dreaming, Aunt Reed. I’ve returned.
MRS. REED: Well, as long as you’re here, we might as well talk. You know, Jane, you and I never got along.
JANE: ...and?
MRS. REED: And that’s it. I always hated you, always will. Even as I lay here dying, I curse the day your mom and dad became stupid enough to die and leave me with you. And now you’re going to get all my money because John up and died on me, too. BUT I STILL HATE YOU!
JANE: That’s okay.
MRS. REED: DON’T GIVE ME THAT BACK-TALK YOU DISRESPECTFUL LITTLE- what?
JANE: ‘Salright. I forgive you for your wanton neglect and abuse.
MRS. REED: ...Oh. (pause) Are you sure you’re a feminist icon?
GHOSTLY CHORUS: Sometime later, Mrs. Reed finally died leaving Jane her fortune. She’s now an independant woman, and she and St. John while away the days singing on rocks.

(Some rocks...)

ST. JOHN: THE HIIIIILLS ARE ALIIIIIIVE WITH THE SOUND OF MUUUSIIIC...
JANE: Psst! Wrong musical.
ST. JOHN: Oops! Sorry. Jane, I think you’d make a great wife. Of course, I won’t actually love you since I’m such a goober. But we’ll spend lots of time in sweltering, God-forsaken countries doing back-breaking work while manipulating the beliefs of the locals. Sounds like fun, eh?
JANE: I don’t know...couldn’t you possibly be my cousin?
ST. JOHN: Shppff, of course not. Why would you think that?
JANE: Still, can I have a moment to think about this?
ST. JOHN: Okay, I’ll time you.
JANE: Are you there God? It’s me, Jane. What should I do? Should I marry this goober because I have no other options in life?
MYSTERIOUS VOICE (NO, NOT THAT ONE; ANOTHER ONE): JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANE!!!
JANE: What’s that, God? I didn’t catch that.
MYSTERIOUS VOICE: JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANE!!!
JANE: You know, God, you sound a lot like my Edward.
MYSTERIOUS VOICE: JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANE!!!
JANE: Holy cripe! You ARE my Edward! EDDDDIIIIIIEEE!!! I’M COOOOOOMIIING!!!
ST. JOHN: Jane! What’s wrong?
JANE: St. John, I’ve decided just now that I have to leave IMMEDIATELY. Thanks for the half-assed proposal and all that, but you’ll have kick righteous ass with me. Ta!

(Thornfield, extra chrispy...)

JANE: Mrs. Fairfax! What happened here?
MRS. FAIRFAX: Well, what do you want to hear first? The bad news, the good news, or the bad news?
JANE: ...
FAIRFAX: Well, the bad news is that Bertha burnt Thornfield to cinders. The good news is that she also pitched herself off the roof, leaving anyone who wished to marry Mr. Rochester no moral obstacles.
JANE: ...and the bad news?
FAIRFAX: ...Mr.Rochesteriskindablindandhasnolefthand. Sorry.
JANE: Look, if outward appearance mattered to me, I would have married that goober, St. John! Where is Edward?
MRS. FAIRFAX: By the Broken Chestnut Tree of Irony or Metaphor or something.

(The Broken Chestnut Tree of Irony or...whatever. ROCHESTER’s left hand is gone, and he’s also blind.)

ROCHESTER: Gah! Who is that?
JANE: Pilot knows me.
ROCHESTER: Who’s Pilot?
JANE: ...
ROCHESTER: Jane?! Is that you?!
JANE: It is!
ROCHESTER: Janie!
JANE: Eddie!
HANDS (THAT AREN’T MISSING): (clasp)
ROCHESTER: Tell me, Jane...and be honest...how do I look?
JANE: Er...you’ve had better days, sir.
ROCHESTER: That’s my girl! So, Jane? Anything new?
JANE: As a matter of fact, yeah! My Aunt died and I inheritted her fortune! I’M RICH, BIOTCH!
ROCHESTER: Well, damn. I’m blind, crippled, and poor. How could you possibly want me now?
JANE: Dude, do you know me at all? My love for you is greater than money, sight and left hands. I’d never leave you!
ROCHESTER: Except that...you did.
JANE: ...Whatever. The point is I’m back. And I’m not leaving THIS TIME.
ROCHESTER: Well, good. Because I missed you. I missed you so much, in fact, that the other day I screamed your name THREE TIMES.
JANE: THREE TIMES?
ROCHESTER: THREE TIMES! And the weirdest part was, I heard a voice answer, and it said-
JANE: “EDDDDIIIIIIEEE!!! I’M COOOOOOMIIING!!!” Like that?
ROCHESTER: Yes! But how did...who the...buh?
JANE: It’s okay, Edward. I’m not leaving you ever again. Just SAY YOU’LL SHARE WITH ME ONE LOVE, ONE LIFETIME! SAY THE WORD, AND I WILL FOLLOW YOU...
ROCHESTER: Psst! Wrong musical!

(Epilogue...)

JANE: So, gentle audience, Edward and I got married, and by the time our son was born Edward could see again. And so love conquered all, we lived happily ever after, etc. etc. etc.
As for the show itself, well, we thought about adding a chorus number with tap-dancing Nazis, but that was scratched. I lost the Tony to Christine Ebersole, and in spite of the efforts of Alanis Morrissette we closed in early June that year. But the show lives on in the original Broadway cast recording, the vocal selections book, several regional productions, and the continuing fervent fan worship of the Eyreheads, bless their crazy hearts. However, If you didn’t see this show while it was running, feel free to kick yourself as hard and as often as possible. Thank you, and goodnight!

(Curtain)

© copyright 2005 Musical Decomposition

Wicked: Decomposed

2005-11-01T21:52:00.000-08:00

Wicked
Music and lyrics by Stephen Schwartz
Book by Winnie Holzman
based on (heh) the novel by Gregory Maguire
Notes: October's edition has come a little late. Sorry.

ACT ONE

OZ, SOME COURTYARD

MUSIC: DAH! DAH-DAH! DAH! DAH! DAH! DAAAAHHHH!
MY EARS: AAAAAHHHHH!!!

(Some Winkies or Munchkins or Wunchkins are getting their dance on. Celebration! Awkward choreography! And then some blonde descends in Barbie’s Dream Deus Ex Machina.)

GLINDA: Behold my benevolent hair color! Goodness and prettiness have triumphed over evil! LOVE ME!

(Apparently, the Wicked Witch of the West died, so...the end?)

GLINDA: But, what is wicked, really? Is wicked is what wicked does?
FLASHBACK: Deedley-dee! Deedley-dee! Deedley-dee!

(Some Salesman who’s face we never see but sounds an awful lot like George Hearn, macks on the future mom of the Wicked Witch of the West.)

DEFINATELY-NOT-GEORGE-HEARN: Hey, baby. Have some date-rape potion.
SOON-TO-BE-WITCHMAMA: Mmm, it tastes like Ecto-Plasm.

(Nine months later...)

VERY-SOON-TO-BE-WITCHMAMA: YOU BASTARD! YOU DID THIS TO ME! YOU AND NOT SOME TRAVELING SALESMAN WITH A DATE-RAPE POTION.
MIDWIFE: Push! Push! I see a head...it’s coming...

(WITCHMAMA gives birth to a Cabbage Patch oll dipped in Easter Egg dye! The horror!)

WITCHDADDY: AUGHHHH!!! OMIGOD, OUR BABY’S DIFFERENT!
AUDIENCE: OW! MY HEAD! WHAT WAS THAT?!
GLINDA: That was the two-by-four delivering that allegory.
FLASHBACK: Dee-deedley! Dee-deedley! Dee-deedley!
GLINDA: So, you see, the Wicked Witch had an unhappy childhood, and maybe with a little understanding she would have turned out okay. But, she’s dead now, so we’ll never know. Bye-ee! (floats off)
EXPOSITORY WUNCHKIN: Hey, Glinda? Didn’t you know the Wicked Witch or something?
GLINDA: (stops mid-float) Huh?
EXPOSITORY WUNCHKIN: The Wicked Witch: did you know her?
GLINDA: ...Y’no.
EXPOSITORY WUNCHKIN: So, you didn’t know her?
GLINDA: ...N’yes.
WUNCHKINS: ...
GLINDA: LOOK! A HOOKA-SMOKING CATERPILLAR!
WUNCHKINS: (looking) WHERE?
GLINDA: Float away! Float away!

(But, the show’s not called “Blonde”, so our good friend FLASHBACK comes in to tell the story...

The time: the past. The place: Shizzwarts School of Witchcraft and Rip-offery. The witch: green. Meet ELPHABA. Not only does she have green skin, but she wears glasses and is apparently a member of the Nation of Islam. Fitting in is hard.)

GALINDA: Lookame! I’m so pretty and blonde and WHITE!
SHIZZWARTS STUDENTS: Ooh, we love you and not the COLORED girl.
AUDIENCE: Ga-linda?
TWO-BY-FOUR OF ALLEGORY: SMACK!

(Oh, and ELPHABA has a sister, NESSAROSE who’s paralyzed legs aren’t nearly as crippling as her passive-agression.)

WITCHDADDY: Nessa, since I love you so much, I give you a pair of silver shoes. Elphaba, here’s a bit of string. Best of luck, yadda, yadda, yadda, watch over Nessa, or you’re out of the will. Peace. (leaves, never to be seen again)
MADAME MORRIBLE: Hello, students. Welcome to Shizzwarts. I am your headmistress, Madame Morrible. Rhymes with “horrible”. Get it?
TWO-BY-FOUR OF ALLEGORY: SMACK!
MORRIBLE: (to Nessa:) I’ve got a special room for you, Speedy. Let’s go.
ELPHABA: NOOOOOOO!!! DON’T TAKE AWAY MY SISTER!!!

(ELPHABA makes Nessa’s chair move BY ITSELF to the shock and awe of all.)

MORRIBLE: OMIGOD! You made that chair move all BY ITSELF! Clearly you are the only one gifted enough to take my sorcery test.
GALINDA: But, Madame Mooooorrrrrible! I want to take that claaa-aaasssss!
MORRIBLE: (ignoring her) And, since you’re so talented, you’ll more than likely get to work for the Wizard.
ELPHABA: WOOT!
GALINDA: But, Madame Mooooorrrrrible!
MORRIBLE: Shut your piehole, Paris. For your blatant asshattery, you’ll be rooming with Greeny McFreakshow here.
GALINDA: (pouts)
STUDENTS: (glare at ELPHABA)
ELPHABA: Oh, I feel so at home already.

SOCIAL COMMENTARY 101 WITH DR. DILLAMOND

(ELPHABA is pulling a full-on Hermione while everyone else stares blank-faced and GALINDA just pouts because DR. DILLAMOND can’t pronounce her name right like the other teachers who LURVE her. And DOCTOR DILLAMOND is an old goat. No, REALLY.)

DR. DILLAMOND: Now, if you all pay attention, I’m going to flip over this chalkboard to my next lesson...

(The chalkboard is scrawled with the message “ANIMALS SHOULD BE SEEN AND NOT HEARD!” Awkward.)

DOCTOR DILLAMOND: Alright, who put this thinly-veiled metaphor up on my chalkboard?
CLASS: ...
DOCTOR DILLAMOND: Who did it? ...WHO DID IT?!
CLASS: (looks around, whistling)
DOCTOR DILLAMOND: FINE! SCREW ALL OF YOU! GET OUT OF MY CLASSROOM!
CLASS: WHEE! FREE PERIOD!

(All the students leave the class, except for ELPHABA, because she has a Heart of Gold™.)

ELPHABA: I’m sorry about what that anonymous jerk did to your chalkboard, Doctor. That was really racist, or speciesist, or something.
DOCTOR DILLAMOND: But, Elphaba, it’s not just the vandelism that bugs me. There is some bad stuff happening in Oz, and I fear that no one will be able to stop it.
ELPHABA: Well, if something bad is happening, why not tell the Wizard? After all, he is SO GOOD AND I KNOW HE WOULD NEVER LET ANYTHING BAD HAPPEN.
DOCTOR DILLAMOND: Well, that’s what you think, but actually- BAAAHHHAAAHHHAAAHHH!!!
ELPHABA: Whuh?
DOCTOR DILLAMOND: Huh. That was weird. What I was trying to say was- BAAAHHHAAAHHHAAAHHH!!!
ELPHABA: ‘The hell?
DOCTOR DILLAMOND: Nevermind. We’ll talk about this more later. Hopefully before it’s too late, but probably not.

SOMETHING SEXY THIS WAY COMES

(A coach pulls up with hung-over FIYERO: the new transfer student from East Sexilvania.)

THOSE WHO READ THE BOOK: But...he’s...BLONDE! And he’s supposed to have a noble bearing! And Elphaba’s dad is supposed to be a priest, not a mayor. And Shizz is supposed to be an all-girls school! AND WHERE ARE THE PORNY BITS?!
BOOK-WRITER, WINNIE HOLZMAN: (hands in ears) La, la, la! Can’t hear you, la, la, la!
BOQ, A MUNCHKIN: Oh, Miss Galinda, I really do lurve you. Granted, everyone lurves you. And yes, I have a glaring lack of balls, but I thought since there were no blonde, devil-may-care teen idols tearing about campus you would consider going out with me?
GALINDA: (sees FIYERO) Ooh, who’s that?
BOQ: (facepalm)
FIYERO: Dude, this place is boring. Let’s throw a decadent, kick-ass party TONIGHT! (to GALINDA:) See you there, sweet thang.
GALINDA: I think I just hit puberty again!
BOQ: Gee, Miss Galinda, I hope you’ll save a dance for me.
GALINDA: Ohhhh... (sees NESSA, gets idea) oh! That’s so nice of you, but I couldn’t possibly be able to enjoy a dance and let someone cop a feel while that poor, be-wheelchaired girl sits alone in her room. If only someone would ask her out...someone with a good heart...someone...with no balls...
BOQ: I have no balls! I mean, I’ll ask her out.
GALINDA: Oh, Bic, you’re a prince.
BOQ: It’s Boq.
GALINDA: Whatever.

NESSA LAYS A GUILT-TRIP

NESSA: Oh, Elphie! Ain’t it grand! Galinda fixed me up for my first-ever date giving me, your beloved sister, one night of happiness! If only I can do something for her, like talk to Madame Morrible and get her into that exclusive sorcery class you’re in.
ELPHABA: ...Damnit!

GALINDA PRIMPS

GALINDA CRONY #1: Oh, Galinda! You are sooooo pretty!
GALINDA: I know.
GALINDA CRONY #2: Let’s get something for your hair (grabs hat box, looks inside). AHHH! KILL IT! KILL IT!
GALINDA: Oh, relax. It’s just a fugly, pointed black hat my grandmother gave me. I would get rid of it, but I haven’t found anyone ironic enough to accept it.
ELPHABA: (entering) Hey, Britney, I wanted to talk to you about OOH! CUTE HAT!
GALINDA: Dude, it’s just too easy.

OZ-DUST BALLROOM

(Everyone dances in torn black lingerie. GALINDA apparently didn’t get the memo because she is wearing fuscia, but since everyone lurves her, it doesn’t really matter.)

BOQ: So...Nessa...you’re in a wheelchair...
NESSA: (nods)
BOQ: (cough, scratch)
NESSA: (sips drink)
BOQ: ...I had an uncle who lost his thumb once.
NESSA: Oh, Boq. I know you didn’t really want to ask me out. You just felt sorry for me because I’m crippled and passive-agressive.
BOQ: That’s not true!
NESSA: Really? Then, why?
BOQ: Well, because...the thing is... (sigh) I have no balls.
NESSA: What was that?
BOQ: I said “you’re lovely as a doll”.
NESSA: Oh, Boq! Thank you! Of course I’ll marry you!
BOQ: ...What?

(And then, MORRIBLE arrives and chats with GALINDA.)

MORRIBLE: Look, Gem, If it were up to me, I’d issue a on order to keep your ditzy ass ten yards away from me. But, Elphaba threatened to drop out unless I took you in my class. Here’s your wand. See you Monday.
GALINDA: I get to study sorcery? For realz?
MORRIBLE: Just try not to blow anything up. Now, if you don’t mind I’m going to start the first of what promises to be a whole series of booze-filled nights.
GALINDA: Oh, SQUEE! I get to do magic things! And best of all, I don’t have to feel guilty about it at all!

(ELPHABA shows up at the dance in her pointy, fugly hat.)

GALINDA: Oh shit.
EVERYONE: HA-HA!
ELPHABA: Hey!
ELHPIE’S HAT: (bows its point shamefully)

(ELPHIE dances all by herself anyway.)

FIYERO: Why would anyone wear such a fugly hat in public?
GALINDA: (shiftily) I don’t know. Why would I know? I certainly did not give her that hat, so what are you looking at me for? Stop looking at me! I have nothing to feel guilty about! Stop looking at me so accusingly! FINE, I’LL GO DANCE WITH HER!
FIYERO: ...

(GALINDA dances with ELPHABA and magically, no one hates ELPHABA, her greenness, or her hat anymore. I guess from here on on out, it's smooth sailing for her.)

ELPHABA AND GALINDA’S DORM ROOM

GALINDA: Since we’re friends now, let’s tell secrets! My secret is that I lurve Fiyero, and we’re gonna get married and have lots of babies, only I’m not gonna get fat, and we’re gonna be rich, and be all hot even when we’re 100 because Fiyero + Galinda = 4EVAH! What’s your secret?
ELPHABA: My greenness made my mother take some bad herbs that killed her in child birth and crippled my sister. My dad hates me and all I have to remember my mother is this bottle of Ecto-Plasm Date Rape Potion.
GALINDA: ...I’m gonna give you a makeover!

CLASS, THE NEXT DAY

(GALINDA gave ELPHABA a makeover! Let’s see if anyone notices.)

FIYERO: Wow, you changed your outfit!
ELPHABA: He noticed!
DR. DILLAMOND: Class, today’s lesson is on government oppression. Example A: Me getting fired and forcibly dragged out of the room while I cry indignantly. (gets dragged out) QUESTION EVERYTHING! DON’T TRUST ANYONE OVER THIRTY! Watch the horns, pal. THE TRUTH IS OUT THERRRRREEEE!!!!
ELPHABA: Hmmm, something doesn’t seem right about this.
NEW TEACHER: Hi kids! I’m your new government-appointed teacher. Today’s lesson: the affects of syringes on an adorable baby lion.
ADORABLE BABY LION: Eek!
ELPHABA: MY HEART OF GOLD™ WON’T STAND FOR THIS! PETRIFICUS EVERYONEUS!
EVERYONE: (freezes)
FIYERO: Hey, Elphie, you forgot to freeze me.
ELPHABA: Just grab the kittie and RUN LIKE HELL!

SOME WOODS NEAR SHIZZWARTS

(After rescuing the adorable lion cub, ELPHABA and FIYERO have A MOMENT)

FIYERO: So...I gotta go. (leaves)
ELPHABA: (sigh)

(A gentle rain of teenage longing falls on ELPHABA while she sings a song, and she totally doesn’t melt. At all. Not even a little. I wonder if this will be important later?)

TWO-BY-FOUR OF FORESHADOWING: SMACK!
AUDIENCE: STOP THAT!

PLATFORM NINE-AND-THREE-QUARTERS

J.K. ROWLING: Eh, I’ve got enough money. Why sue? Besides, it’s not like any of my books got turned into screaching pop operas.
GREGORY MAGUIRE: What was that? I can’t hear you with all these hundreds in my ears.

(ELPHABA is going to the Emerald City to start an internship with THE WIZARD, because apparently after a semester of sorcery class, she’s ready.)

THE ARTIST FORMERLY KNOWN AS GALINDA: Have fun in the Emerald City, Elphie! I’ll be okay, here...with my boyfriend...who’s grown kinda distant...and has kinda stopped talking to me...
ELPHABA: (sigh) Do you want to come to the Emerald City with me?
GLINDA: Who? Me? Really, I...I’ve got a ticket and a suitcase packed. Let’s go!

EM CITY, OZ

(ELPHABA and GALINDA are immediately raped and shivved by ADEBISI. The end.)

GLINDA: Ooh, lookie! A puppet show.
GIANT PUPPETS: Gad about! Fall down! Whee!
ELPHABA: Dude, I’d just rather be raped and shivved.

THE WIZARD’S...OFFICE?

GIANT WIZARD HEAD OF DOOM: WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT?!!
ELPHABA: Um, why don’t you talk to the nice giant head, Glinda? You’re good with people.
GLINDA: I’m not the one you want! Eat her! Eat her!

(Then the GIANT WIZARD HEAD OF DOOM goes limp, and the real WIZARD steps out and he’s totally George Hearn!)

WIZARD: ELPHIE! It’s so nice to finally meet you! Would you like to pet my monkey?
ELPHABA: Ew.
WIZARD: No, I mean this monkey, right here. His name is Chistery.
CHISTERY, THE MONKEY: Ooh-ooh-ah-ah!
WIZARD: And look! You’re beloved teacher Madame Morrible is here.
GLINDA: Oh. Yay?
WIZARD: Tell you what, Elphie. How’s ‘bout I give you a test to, um, prove yourself. Yes. Cast a spell that will make Chistery fly. Don’t worry about getting it right the first time. I’ve got a few spare monkeys in the back if you blow him up.
CHISTERY: Ooh-ooh?
WIZARD: And feel free to use this book, the Grimmery. It might help. Of course, it’s written in a dead language that no man alive can decifer, but you can give it the old college try.

(ELPHABA can read and understand the ancient dead language. CHISTERY starts writhing about in pain.)

CHISTERY: ACK! ACK!
ELPHABA: Omigod, he’s in pain!
WIZARD: No, no. He likes it.
CHISTERY: (sprouts wings)
GLINDA: Dude.
WIZARD: Boo-yah, grandma! And check this out (pulls back a curtain to reveal a cage full of winged monkeys.) And with my race of supermonkies I will RULE THE WORLD! MWAHAHAHA!
ELPHABA: OMIGOD, YOU TRICKED ME! YOU’RE EVIL!
WIZARD: And yet, so loveable.
ELPHABA: MADAME MORRIBLE, DO SOMETHING!
MORRIBLE: Sphff. You’re barking up the wrong tree, Ferny.
ELPHABA: Fine, be that way! YOINK! (she grabs the Grimmery and she and GLINDA book it on out of there.)

A ROOFTOP IN OZ

ELPHABA: We are so screwed.
GLINDA: What do you mean “we”? I wasn’t the one who made a scene and snatched the Wizard’s Book of Magic Gibberish.
ELPHABA: Shut up! There’s gotta be something in here to help us escape. Aha! Here we go! BROOMUS LEVITUS!

(A nearby broom starts flying by itself. No, really. You think I’m making this up? The bloom is flying fo’ real, yo!)

ELPHABA: Awesome! Come on, Glinda! Let’s be a comically mismatched duo and fight crime and save the world TOGETHER! We’ll be GREEN GIRL AND WONDERBLONDE!
GLINDA: ...
ELPHABA: Glinda?
GLINDA: (kicks dirt, looks down)
ELPHABA: Glinda!
GLINDA: ...I love you, man, but I’m going to stay here and, like, not be an enemy of the state.
ELPHABA: FINE! BE THAT WAY! (flies up)
GUARDS: (breaking in) Look! Up in the sky! It’s a bird! It’s a plane! It’s a...flying...lizard...thing?
ELPHABA: NO! I’m SUPERALTO! SONICBELT: ON!
GUARDS, WUNCHKINS, AUDIENCE: AUGHHHHH!!! OUR EARS! WE SUBMIT! WE SUBMIT!
WIZARD: (shaking fist) I’LL GET YOU IN ACT TWO, SUPERALTO!

(Act One ends to the relief of the audience’s ravaged ear drums.)

INTERMISSION

(It is at this point that I notice the metal dragon perched atop the stage: a clever allusion to one of the narrative devices of the original novel. And if the rest of the show resembled the book in any way, this would mean something.)

ACT TWO

MUSIC: DAH! DAH-DAH! DAH! DAH! DAH! DAAAAHHHH!
MY EARS: AHH, HOW WE BLEED!

(Sometime later: thanks to some clever spin-doctoring, ELPHABA is declared public enemy # 1, even though the worst thing she’s done is steal a book. GLINDA has been appointed Secretary of Shiny, and FIYERO is in charge of hunting down ELPHIE, despite never having revealed a knack for hunting anything.

The curtain opens as GLINDA does her best Eva Peron impression for the masses.)

GLINDA: Ozentinos! Ozentinos! We are scared shitless now...so let’s forget all this witch business and party!
WUNCHKINS: WOO-HOO!
FIYERO: Glinda, I don’t feel good about this whole witch-hunting thing. You and I both know that Elphie’s innocent.
GLINDA: I’m working on it, dear. Oh by the way, I told everyone we’re getting married. I hope you don’t mind.
FIYERO: ...

HOUSE OF NESSA, MUNCHKINLAND

BOQ: Your cappucino, Miss Nessarose.
NESSA: Oh Boq, please. Call me “Nessa”.
BOQ: Forgive me, Miss Nessarose...
NESSA: I said SAY MY NAME, BITCH!
BOQ: Eek! (runs away)
VOICE FROM THE CUPBOARD: (singing:) I am the angel of music...Come to the angel of music...
NESSA: AHHHH!!!
ELPHABA: (emerging from cupboard) Hee hee! Oh, I love that one.
NESSA: No fair stealing from other musicals!
ELPHABA: Nes, this whole show is stolen from other musicals. How you chillin’ Wheeley?
NESSA: Oh, I’m alright. I’ve enslaved the Munchkin race, so that’s going really well.
ELPHABA: Nice. So, how’s about you clearing my name, since you have all this power?
NESSA: I dunno...that would involve making a speech, which would involve wheeling out for a press conference, and my arms are pretty tired...
ELPHABA: Oh, fine. LEGGO REPARO!

(NESSA’s silver shoes turn ruby red and she stands up on shaky legs to take her first steps.)

WRITERS HEAVEN

FRANK L. BAUM: (bawling) WHYYYYYY?!?!?!
T.S. ELLIOT: I know how you feel, man.

CASA DE NESSA

NESSA: Boq, check this out! I’m walking!
BOQ: (running in) Oh, this is wonderful!
NESSA: I know!
BOQ: Now I can leave and go ask out Glinda!
NESSA: ...What?
ELPHABA: Uh oh.
BOQ: Yeah. You see, Nessa, I never really loved you, but your passive-aggression and my complete lack of balls conspired to keep me here as your servant. I stayed because I felt bad for you, especially since everything in Munchkinland is on an incline. But now that you can walk, I don’t feel guilty anymore! So, I’m just going to go now, if that’s okay with you?
NESSA: ...
BOQ: Um, is it okay, Nessa?
NESSA: (eyeball twitch)
BOQ: You’re going to hurt me, aren’t you?
NESSA: RAAAAAAAA!!!!

(NESSA yanks the Grimmery out of ELPHABA’s hands.)

ELPHABA: Nessa, wait! We’ve clearly established that only I can read the magical gobbility gook.
NESSA: CARDIO SHRINKO!
ELPHABA: Well, I’ll be damned.

(NESSA’s spell works a little too well.)

BOQ: (clutching chest) GAH! My heart! It’s...shrinking!
ELPHABA: Oh no! Now he’ll have no heart, and no balls!
NESSA: Elphie, this is all your fault!
ELPHABA: Me? What did I do?
BOQ: Nnnnnnnnggghhh!
NESSA: GAH! FIX IT! FIX IT!
ELPHABA: Okay! Okay! Damn.

(ELPHABA pulls BOQ behind the cupboard to do do that voodoo that she do so well. She returns to NESSA.)

ELPHABA: It’s alright, he’s not dying anymore.
NESSA: Is he going to be alright?
ELPHABA: Yes...technically.
NESSA: ...What do you mean?
ELPHABA: Well...the good news is, you’ve now got some extra storage space.
NESSA: What?
ELPHABA: Gotta go!

(ELPHABA leaves and there is clanking from behind the cupboard, a figure emerges...ELPHABA turned BOQ into THE TIN MAN! )

AUDIENCE: NOW IT ALL...makes...sense? Buh?

THE ROOM WITH THE GIANT WIZARD HEAD

ELPHABA: Release the monkeys, or get an assful of broom!
WIZARD: Okay (releases monkeys)
ELPHABA: Wow, that was easy.
WIZARD: You see, I’m not such a bad guy. Sure, I’ve enslaved a couple of primates, and maybe I have oppressed a few peoples...but I’m really just a big ol’ softie.
ELPHABA: Awww.
WIZARD: So how about we put this whole “revolution” business behind us and just be friends?
ELPHABA: Well...hey, what’s that in the corner?
WIZARD: What?
ELPHABA: That bag.
WIZARD: What bag?
ELPHABA: That bag that’s moving.
WIZARDS: What’s moving?
ELPHABA: Okay, now I’m really calling shenanigans. (opens bag) OH MY GOD, IT’S DOCTOR DILLAMOND!
DR. DILLAMOND: BAAAHHHAAAHHHAAAHHH!!!
ELPHABA: Doctor, what have they done to you?
DR. DILLAMOND: BAAAHHHAAAHHHAAAHHH!!!
ELPHABA: Why won’t you speak? SPEAK, DAMNIT!
DR. DILLAMOND: Baaahhhaaa?
ELPHABA: (to WIZARD) YOU EVIL BASTARD SUMBITCH!
FIYERO: (running in) ELPHIE! I’LL SAVE YOU!
ELPHABA: Wait, save me from what?
GLINDA: (running in) Snookums! We’ve got guests waiting and...have I...interrupted something?
FIYERO: Glinda, I can’t marry you. I’m in love with Elphaba.
GLINDA: You are?
ELPHABA: You are?
FIYERO: Yes, and I’m going with her! Sorry that we went behind your backs like this.
ELPHABA: Wait, when did we go behind her back?
FIYERO: Let us fly my darling! (They escape.)
GLINDA: Wait! You can’t go off with her! You can’t! Fiyero + Glinda = 4EVAH! I even wrote it in my diary! (weeps)
WIZARD: Them’s the brakes, kid. Care for some Ecto-plasm?
GLINDA: ...

FOREST OF BOOTY

(FIYERO and ELPHABA retire to the woods for a well earned, inevitable ”duet”.)

BOOK FANS: FINALLY, A PORNY BIT!
DAUGHTER: Mommy, what’s going on?
MOM: Well, honey, when a composer and a book writer really love each other and they want to make a musical, they write a “love duet”. It’s a beautiful thing, usually, but sometimes it’s painful. And when it’s overwritten, it can be very painful. But in the end, everyone is so happy with the duet, they forget about the pain and the obvious lyrics and the plot stalling.
DAUGHTER: Oh. Mommy? Can I write a duet?
MOM: NO!

STUFF HAPPENS

(At this point the music has raped my ears beyond all repair, and I can’t remember a damn thing that happens next. Something about MADAME MORRIBLE and GLINDA and THE WIZARD conspiring to kill NESSA. DOROTHY shows up, but we never actually see her, NESSA dies from smush, ELPHABA and GLINDA talk smack and fight, FIYERO tries to intervene but gets captured for his trouble. ELPHABA tries to cast a spell to save his life, but it probably doesn’t work and she’s really, really, really pissed.)

AN ANTI-WITCH RALLY

WUNCHKINS: BURN THE WITCH! BURN THE WITCH!
BOQ: She turned me into this walking monstrosity!
A LION: She took away my courage!
SOME WUNCHKIN: She turned me into a newt!
EVERYONE: ...
SOME WUNCHKIN: ...I got better.
WUNCHKINS: ...KIIIIILLLLL HEEERRR!!!
GLINDA: (watching all this from a balcony) But this isn’t true at all! Madame Morrible, you must tell the truth and save Elphie!
MORRIBLE: Hon, have you even been watching this musical?

ELPHABA’S SUPER-SECRET HIDEOUT

OFF-STAGE DOROTHY: WAAAAAHHHHH!!!
ELPHABA: ShutupshutupshutupshutupSHUTUP!
GLINDA: (entering) Let the little girl go! And her dog, Dodo, or Frodo, or what’s-his-name!
ELPHABA: How did you find my hide out?
GLINDA: I...Googled it?
DELIVERY MONKEY: Express Air Mail for Elphaba!
ELPHABA: Thanks (tips him a banana)
DELIVERY MONKEY: Cheapskate.
ELPHABA: (reads note) Oh no. I’ve lost.
GLINDA: Wait, you have?
ELPHABA: Yes. I’m done for.
GLINDA: But, I haven’t arrested you or anything. You could still sick your flying monkeys on me, or turn me into an acorn, or something.
ELPHABA: No, it’s too late. The jig, she is up. Here, take the Grimmery. Keep fighting the good fight, but promise me you will never clear my name of any wrongdoing, because that would make too much sense.
GLINDA: (tearfully) Okay.
ELPHABA: Here, hide behind this ginormous curtain so I can die in sillhouette.

(She does so. We see the shadows of guards fighting ELPHABA and DOROTHY douses her with a fatal bucket of watery death. ELPHIE melts. All that’s left of here is a fugly, pointy hat.)

BOOK FANS: Well, at least they kept something from the book.
GLINDA: (sob)

THAT ROOM WITH THE HEAD

GLINDA: (busting in on MORRIBLE and THE WIZARD) I’m here to drink Ecto-Plasm and kick ass, and you’ve got plenty of Ecto-Plasm.
WIZARD: Yeah, so?
GLINDA: So, I’ve only ever seen that stuff once before: with Elphaba, who’s carried it with her her entire life. I’ve put zero and zero together and figured it out: YOU’RE ELPHABA’S REAL FATHER!
WIZARD: Omigod!
GLINDA: Yeah, so I’m taking over this here operation. There’s a new sherriff in town. Enjoy prison, you two. Have a party for me.
MORRIBLE: I hate you so very, very much.
GLINDA: Ya think?

A NEW ERA

(Some Winkies or Munchkins or Wunchkins are getting their dance on. Celebration! Awkward choreography! Omigod, the musical has lapped itself! IT’S STARTING OVER AGAIN! NOOOOO!!!

A STRAW MAN wanders over to the fugly hat. He picks it up and knocks on the floor.)

STRAW MAN: You can come out now.
ELPHABA: (pushes open the trap door)
BOOK FANS: (start foaming at the mouth)
ELPHABA: Are they all gone, Fiyero?
BOOK FANS: (heads explode)
FIYERO: Everything’s going to be okay now. Do I...look funny?
ELPHABA: No, but...we might have an issue with “chaffing”.

(All the Wunchkins are still celebrating as GLINDA woefully hangs from her bubble wand clutching the book of spells that she can’t read. In the end, pretty did not win over “different” and subtley definately did not win over blatant symbolism. The audience rubs their battered heads, step over the bodies of the BOOK FANS and go home.)

ONE MONTH LATER

AUDIENCE: (finishing Gregory Maguire’s novel) ...Hey!

(Curtain.)

© copyright 2005 Musical Decomposition

Intermission Announcement

2005-09-09T21:02:00.001-07:00

(Scene: the interior of a Broadway theatre. Time: day.

An audience waits ever so patiently in their seats. They have been sitting there for over two months. Nothing has happened in that span of time, and they are restless. The food supply in the concession stand had been exhausted long ago. Playbills® are chewed unceremoniously. The ushers that have not escaped have been eaten.

Suddenly, there is a ruffling from the velvet curtains. AMANDA appears before the ravenous crowd. Timidly, she speaks...)

AMANDA: Um, hello? Hello, everyone? Everyone, good evening. Thank you for your patience.

AN AUDIENCE MEMBER: IT'S BEEN TWO FREAKIN' MONTHS!

AMANDA: Yes, well, I realize that...

ANOTHER AUDIENCE MEMBER: I HAVEN'T SEEN MY FAMILY SINCE JULY!

AMANDA: Hey, that's not my fau-

ANOTHER ANOTHER AUDIENCE MEMBER: ALL YOU GIVE US IS THREE ENTRIES AND THEN YOU DISSAPPEAR ON US. WE DEMAND AN EXPLANATION!

SOME AUDIENCE MEMBER: AND MORE USHERS!

ALSO AN AUDIENCE MEMBER: YES! BIGGER ONES!

AUDIENCE: (chanting) MORE! USHERS! MORE! USHERS! MORE! USHERS!

AMANDA: Okay, you guys? I didn't force you to stay here. You didn't have to eat my ushers.

AUDIENCE: ...Oh.

AMANDA: But now that I have your attention, I do want to announce that this site, "Musical Decomposition", will now be updated every month. Watch out for an update within the next two weeks. Expect parodies on some well-known shows by Frank Wildhorn, Lerner & Loewe, Sondheim...

AUDIENCE: NO, NOT SONDHEIM!

AMANDA: Yes. Even Sondheim.

AUDIENCE: (gasp)

AMANDA: So, make sure to visit regularly. If you have a favorite musical you'd like to see decomposed, mention it in the comments. So, that's all I have to say at the moment. Thank you very much.

AN AUDIENCE MEMBER: BUT, WHEN ARE WE GOING TO GET MORE USHERS???

AMANDA: When you promise to stop eating them.

AN AUDIENCE MEMBER: (grumble)

Brigadoon: Decomposed

2005-07-04T16:27:00.000-07:00

Brigadoon
music by Frederick Loewe
lyrics and book by Alan Jay Lerner
based on a myth that was either Scottish, or German, or both

YE OLDE FOREST O' EXPOSITIONE

(Enter two Americans, Tommy and Jeff, who chat expositionally.)

TOMMY: Wow, Jeff, we sure are LOST. We came all the way from NEW YORK and we got LOST in SCOTLAND.
JEFF: Yes, quite. And I drink.
TOMMY: I can't believe how LOST we are. Also, I'm having reservations about my upcoming marriage.
JEFF: I drink A LOT.

(Suddenly, Misty Mystical Highland voices call out to them.)

MISTY MYSTICAL HIGHLAND VOICES: Brigadoon...Brigadoon...We sing about ourselves for no reason, Brigadoon...
JEFF: Damn, this whiskey is starting to kick in.
TOMMY: Omigod, look! A little village that totally wasn't there five minutes ago! Let's check it out.
JEFF: My drunkeness prevents me from arguing out of this. Okay, let's go.

(And the only plausible bit in the show is over.)

Brigadoon

(And...we have a title! We're in Brigadoon: the charmingingly time-displaced Scottish town of the 1740's, a halcyon time marked by it's love of spontaneous musical numbers.

So, the Brigadoon...ian..ites are fairing it up, and there's a general excitement about the forthcoming nuptials of the charming JEAN MACLAREN and CHARLIE DALRYMPLE, who, in spite of his awkward last name is still charming.

Speaking of awkward, JEAN strikes up a conversation with her ex, HARRY BEATON who is not very charming.)

JEAN: So...Harry...how are things?
HARRY BEATON: Oh, fine.
JEAN: Really?
HARRY: Yeah. Fine. I can never go to college to do something meaningful with my life, and now I’m stuck watching you be some other man’s wife for all eternity. SURE! EVERYTHING’S PEACHY-F#$%ING-KEEN!
JEAN: ...So, does that mean you're not coming to the wedding?
HARRY: Wha-??? Buh??? Nnnnnnnnngggggghhh, GODDAMNIT WOMAN! (leaves in huff)
JEAN: Well...that went okay.

(JEAN'S dad, who likes the sound of his own voice, makes some official announcement:)

MACLAREN: Let me remind you to give thanks for the MIRACLE that took place two days ago, because surely you would have forgotten by now.

(Meanwhile: FIONA, the charming sister of the charming JEAN goes shopping. She buys milk from MEG, who's the Town Haggis: everyone's had a peice.)

MEG: Hey there, Fiona! How’re the wedding preparations going?
FIONA: Fine, Meg. How’s the slutting going?
MEG: As good as can be expected. By the way, when are you gonna get hitched?
FIONA: When someone comes along who makes me think of marriage.
MEG: Isn’t that a little difficult considering-
FIONA: I SAID, "WHEN SOMEONE COMES ALONG WHO MAKES ME THINK OF MARRIAGE."
MEG: Whatever.

(And right on cue, Tommy and Jeff enter)

MEG: Someone I haven't slept with yet! Sweet!
BRIGADOON...IAN...ITES: (unsubtle staring)
TOMMY: Uh, hi. We are kinda lost...so...if you could help us out with that...that would be...great...
BRIGADOON...IAN...ITES: (still staring; but charmingly)
JEFF: Aw, screw this. Let's go find us a HoJo and a martini.
FIONA: Wait, you can't leave.
TOMMY: Why not?
FIONA: Because then we wouldn't have a show. Stay here and share subtle, 1940's sexual tension with me.
TOMMY: Okay.
MEG: I'll take the one who smells like scotch.

(Meg drags Jeff off towards impending sex.)

TOMMY: I better call the hotel. Can I use a telephone?
FIONA: Quoi?
TOMMY: A phone. Can I use a telephone?
FIONA: A what-a-what?
TOMMY: (loudly) NEC. CES. IT. O. TEL. E. FO. NO.
FIONA: Don’t patronize me, sir. We don’t have a damn phone.
TOMMY: What? What the hell kinda place is this, anyway?
FIONA: (changing the subject) Oh, look! It’s that guy who’s going to marry my sister later! You must meet him.
(Enter CHARLIE DALRYMPLE, he of the unfortunate last name. They all start drinking at like 9:00 AM, but I guess it's never too early to drink in the Highlands, eh?

Kidding! Don't hate me, Scottish people!)

CHARLIE: A toast: to Brigadoon, Mr. Forsythe, the MIRACLE, etc. SALUD!
TOMMY: Mirawhuh?
FIONA: No talking. It's drinky time.

(FIONA and TOMMY exit. CHARLIE sings a song about his bachelor life. It's quite long, actually. It goes into several refrains. He's the male version of Meg. Still, he is charming, so all is forgiven.

Oh, there's also a dance sequence where HARRY tries to pick up a girl and fails miserably. Then everyone clears the stage and FIONA and TOMMY saunter back on picking up where we left off.)

TOMMY: So, I guess that whole scene was...rather pointless?
FIONA: Pretty much. Yeah.

(beat)

TOMMY: So...why is everyone around so corsetty and waistcoaty and two hundred years out of place?
FIONA: ...I have no idea what you're talking about.
TOMMY: I'm just saying, it's a little weird.
FIONA: What? You're
the one who's weird.
TOMMY: Say what? You're nuts, and so is everybody else here.
FIONA: SAY THAT AGAIN ABOUT MY TOWN AND I'LL CRACK YO ASS, BITCH!

(beat)

TOMMY: ...Dude!
FIONA: (calming down) Sorry. I just get a little defensive about my people. I was just keeping it real, yo.
TOMMY: Okay...so, you...wanna hang out or something?
FIONA: Oh, I can't. I've got a millions things to do, and-
TOMMY: (sings:) Can't we two go walkin' together,
out beyond the valley of trees?
Out where there's a hillside of heather,
curtsyin' gently in the breeze.
That's what I'd like to do: see the heather-but with you...

(pause)

What the hell was that?
FIONA: Oh, it's just this place. It does that to you.
TOMMY: Oh.
FIONA: Actually, I could use a little company. Come with me. I will tell you about Scottish life and you can tell me about those teeth on your pockets.
TOMMY: Those are zippers.

MEG'S YE OLDE SHACKE O' SLUTTERY

(JEFF and MEG have stopped to "rest".)

MEG: ...and my mother conceived me in this very shack. Right in the very bed we're sitting on right now.
JEFF: Great. I'll try not to think about that as I go to sleep.
MEG: But, wait. Don't you want to...talk? (cough, cough)sexnow(cough)
JEFF: What?
MEG: Me so horny. Me love you long time.
JEFF: Uh, no thank you.
MEG: Huh? I'm sitting here with my legs akimbo and you're not going to do a thing about it? What gives, man?
JEFF: ...Got any whiskey?

(Aaaaaand, scene.)

CASA DE MACLAREN

(All the womenfolk help JEAN pack for her honeymoon, because apparently everyone in Brigadoon has nothing better to do than to help out with this wedding.)

CHARLIE: Hello, Mr. MacLaren! I’m here to sign the family plotpoint.
MACLAREN: Oh, you mean the bible? Help yourself! And please feel free to use the other room where it’ll be easier to concentrate. Yes.

(CHARLIE does so, which allows HARRY to get his whine on.)

HARRY: It's not fair! I'm stuck forever in this shite-pile of a town.
MACLAREN: Yeah. And don't forget that part about some other dude marrying my daughter, whom you love. That really must suck.
HARRY: WAH! I wish I could leave! I wish this whole town would just dissappear!

(HARRY exits in a huff. CHARLIE enters without having heard a word of the preceding conversation.)

CHARLIE: (returning) Wow, it took a lot longer to sign my name than one would expect. Is everything okay?
MACLAREN: Wha-? Oh yeah. Everything’s fine. Nothing happened in here that will come back to bite us in the ass later.
CHARLIE: Cool. Should I put this bible away?
MACLAREN: No, just leave it out here. I’m sure it won’t be found by any time-travelling Americans and completely give away our game.

(TOMMY and FIONA return from the field where they've been collecting heather all day. If you want to find a euphemism in there, happy hunting, my friend.)

TOMMY: Well, collecting heather certainly is invigorating, isn't it?
FIONA: Yes, it is.

(They make out. A lot. I would say they're over their earlier awkwardness.

FIONA leaves and JEFF enters sporting a pair of plaid pants from L.L. Bean's Post-Coital Collection.)

TOMMY: Dude, what happened to your pants?
JEFF: I tore them on a "thistle". A really slutty "thistle". And what have you been doing all day?
TOMMY: Well, not much, but I feel...(sings:)
All the music of life seems to be
like a bell that is ringing for me!
And from the way that I feel when that bell starts to peal,
I could swear I was falling, I would swear I was falling,
It's almost like being in love!!!
JEFF: ...What the hell was that?

(But Tommy doesn’t answer because he has just noticed the family plotpoint bible, and starts to read it:)

BIBLE: Fiona MacLaren was born in seventeen-twenty-something. Yes, the very name of the very girl you’ve been macking on all day.
TOMMY: (reads)
BIBLE: And her little sister is marrying that dude, Charlie, on this date. Only, not this exact date, because according to this Bible it’s 200 years ago.
TOMMY: (wheels...turning...)
BIBLE: AND DIDN’T YOU NOTICE THAT THERE’S NO ELECTRICITY OR PHONE OR RUNNING WATER AND EVERYONE DRESSES IN CORSETS AND STUFF? ARE YOU STUPID OR SOMETHING???
TOMMY: ...Hey, something's not right.
FIONA: (entering) Hey Tommy! What do you want to (notices Bible)...oh, shit.
TOMMY: Um...Fiona...is there...something you want to tell me?
FIONA: Okay, fine. I’ll take you to Mr. Lundie who will tell you everything.
TOMMY: Why do you have to take me to him?
FIONA: Because he has a PhD in Backstory.

WHEREVER LUNDIE HANGS OUT WHEN THE STRESS OF BEING CHARMING BECOMES TOO MUCH

FIONA: 'Sup, Mr. Lundie.
LUNDIE: 'Sup.
FIONA: These are some Americans I met like forty-five minutes ago. I was wondering if you can tell them all about the super-secret MIRACLE of Brigadoon.
LUNDIE: Okay, here’s the deal: 200 years ago the highlands of Scotland were plagued by witches that may or may not have actually existed. Mr. Forsythe, the town minister, and I discussed the problem and came to the obvious solution...
JEFF: You burned hundreds of people at the stake without benefit of charge or trial?
LUNDIE: (silence)
FIONA: I told you we should have done that!
LUNDIE: Aaaanyway, we decided the best solution was to pray to God for a MIRACLE: to make Brigadoon and everything and everyone in it dissappear and then return for exactly one day every hundred years because...that makes sense...on some planet...in some galaxy...that we haven’t yet discovered...
TOMMY: It’s okay. We left plausibility back in the woods. I believe you.
LUNDIE: Oh good! So, Mr. Forsythe waited until Charlie came back from school so that nothing would go wrong with the wedding and just assumed that everyone else would be okay with this. He prayed to God on a hilltop away from Brigadoon because he wanted to make the sacrifice to save his town. Or something. At any rate, we never saw him again, and that’s sad. Also, he asked God that if anyone were ever to leave, the entire town would dissappear forever. I don’t ever see that becoming a problem. He also made sure that if an outsider (cough, cough) fell in love (cough, cough) with anyone who lived in Brigadoon (cough, cough) he could stay.
TOMMY: You okay there? Do you need a glass of water or something?
LUNDIE: I said IF AN OUTSIDER FELL IN LOVE WITH ANYONE WHO LIVED IN BRIGADOON HE COULD STAY!
TOMMY: Dude, I heard you the first time! Why are you shouting?
LUNDIE: Whatever. In time you will come to understand...preferably sometime before we go back into cryogenic slumber.
FIONA: Oh yikes! I gotta go get changed for the wedding.
TOMMY: Oh right: wedding! Jeff, do you want to stay to see it? (tauntingly) Open bar...
JEFF: Oh fine.

(FIONA leaves. LUNDIE has a moment with our heroes.)

LUNDIE: You know, sometimes when I sleep at night, I can hear voices crying out for a Brigadoon of their own.
VOICES: AaaaahhhhhaaaahhhAAAHHHAAAHHHaaahhhaaahhhAAAAAAHHHH!
JEFF: ...the hell was that all about?
LUNDIE: Oh, nothing really. It was just covering a costume change. Actually, forget I said anything.

THE WEDDING

(The whole town has showed up for JEAN and CHARLIE's wedding. It's the event of the century, for real!)

LUNDIE: We don’t have a minister, so why don’t why don't you just pledge eternal love and we'll just take it from there.
JEAN: I love you, and stuff.
CHARLIE: I love you, and more stuff.
LUNDIE: I now pronounce you Mr. and Mrs. Weirdlastname.
JEAN AND CHARLIE: WOOT! (eat each other’s faces)

(Everyone parties like it's 1799. Even HARRY has caught the spirit and sworddances with the other mens. Kilts go flying to dangerous levels. All is love and light and happiness and kilts...until HARRY breaks formation, grabs JEAN and rapes her face with his tongue.)

CHARLIE: Oi! That's my wife! Get your own.

(CHARLIE administers a two-fisted beatdown to HARRY, who then pulls out a small blade which holds back the entire town even though there were about a dozen swords onstage two minutes ago.)

SOMEWHERE DEEP IN THE FOREST

PLAUSIBILITY: Hello? I think I was left behind. Little help? Somebody?

BACK AT THE WEDDING

HARRY: Man, I have had enough of all this backwoods mystical shit, I am so out of here!
TOWNSFOLK: Omigod! None of us saw this coming since scene two!
JEAN: Harry, I might have gone out with you, but you just weren't very charming.
HARRY: EFF YOU! EFF YOU, AND F@#$ YOU! (leaves in a huff)

(The citizens freeze in panic. Shock! Horror! The future of Brigadoon hangs in the balance! So much excitement! And curtain.)

ACT II

YE OLDE FOREST OF SUSPENSEFUL CHOREOGRAPHYE

(The menfolk are in hot persuit of runaway HARRY. They search the entire forest, yet somehow keep coming back to one stage-sized clearing in the woods.)

MENFOLK: (Chase, chase, chase!)
HARRY: Run, run, run!
TOMMY: Oh my God! We’ve got to help save the town! It means more to me than life!
JEFF: Hey, up until today you didn’t even know this place existed.
TOMMY: Just help me look for him, Sloshed McShitfaced!
MENFOLK: (Chase, chase, chase!)
HARRY: (Run, run, run!)
ANGUS: You guys go that way, I'll go this way.
SOME SCOT: Will we catch him faster if we dance so that our kilts fly up to indecent levels?
ANGUS: ...yes.
MENFOLK: (Chase, chase, chase!)
HARRY: (Run, run, run!)
KILTS: (go flying)
AUDIENCE: (sees London, sees France...)
MENFOLK: (Chase!)
HARRY: (Run!)
MENFOLK: (Chase!)
HARRY: (Run!)
MENFOLK: (Chase!)
HARRY: (Run!)
MENFOLK: (Chase!)
HARRY: (Run! RunrunrunRUUUUNNNN!)
TOMMY: MY GOD WILL NOTHING STOP HIM?!?!
OFF-STAGE VOICE: AAAUUUGGGHHHHHH!!!

(SOME SCOT carries on Harry; he's really dead.)

SOME SCOT: Looks like he tripped and hit his head on a rock...or something.
TOMMY: Wow, how convenient.
ANGUS: Yeah, we couldn’t have planned that better if we tried.
STUART: Look, there’s no reason to let this ruin the wedding party. Let’s wait until tomorrow to tell everyone.
TOMMY: You mean a hundred years later when he’s completely decomposed?
STUART: Yeah...something like that.

BACK AT BRIGADOON

MACLAREN: Alright, everyone! We caught Harry. Show’s over, nothing to see here.
ARCHIE BEATON: Where is my son? Did he get hurt?
MACLAREN: (shiftily) No, and he certainly didn’t die in the woods back there. I don’t know why you would think that.
FIONA: Tommy? Tommy, where are you? Angus, where's Tommy?
ANGUS: Who's Tommy?
FIONA: Tommy! Where's Tommy?
ANGUS: Where's Tommy? You mean Who's Tommy?
FIONA: No! Where's Tommy?
ANGUS: Well, if Where's Tommy, Who's on first?
FIONA: What?
ANGUS: Huh?
FIONA: WHERE IS THE TIME-TRAVELLING AMERICAN WITH THE DRUNK FRIEND?!?!
ANGUS: Oh, him. He's over there.
TOMMY: Hi.
FIONA: TOMMY! I was so worried! I thought you weren't coming back.
TOMMY: Of course I came back. Fiona...
FIONA: Yes, Tommy?
TOMMY: I have something to tell you.
FIONA: What is it, Tommy?
TOMMY: Well...(sings:)
I saw a man with his head bowed low.
His heart had no place to go.
I looked and I thought to myself with a sigh:
There but for you go I.
I saw a man walking by the sea,
Alone with the tide was he.
I looked and I thought as I watched him go by:
There but for you go I...
FIONA: Tommy, stop singing and tell me what you wanted to tell me.
TOMMY: (stops singing) Huh? Oh. I love you, Fiona.
FIONA: WOOT! I love you, too! Come on, let's go find Mr. Lundie and see what we have to do.
TOMMY: Can't I finish my song first?
FIONA: I really don't think we have ti-
TOMMY: (sings:)
I saw a man who had never known
a love that was all his own.
I thought as I thanked all the stars in the sky:
There, but for you, go I.
FIONA: Are you finished?
TOMMY: Yes.
FIONA: Good. Let's go.

THE WEDDING PARTY, CONT.

(Having apparently forgotten all about their brush with death, the Brigadooners have gone back to partying. MEG regales all with a chapter from "Les Contes des Slutwomann.")

MEG: Y'all think this wedding was nuts? Shoot, my mom's wedding turned into a drunken, violent orgy. And I know, because I was there. Ahh, memories.
BRIGADOONIES: Ha-ha! Tell us another one, Aunt Meg!

(Tales of ribaldry will have to wait for another time, as the lights turn down and the music of bagpipes fill the air. The corpse of HARRY is carried onto stage on a litter. I guess the idea for concealing his untimely demise did not go according to plan.

MAGGIE, that chick HARRY tried to hit on earlier, does a mourny dance of deathly death. ARCHIE BEATON cries. It is very very very sad.)

THE DALRYMPLE HOUSEHOLD, 50 (5000) YEARS LATER

JEAN: ...and that's the story of how your grandfather and I got married.
GRANDKIDS: Wow, Grandma. That sucks.

THE WEDNERAL

(The funeral procession follows HARRY'S body offstage. JEFF and TOMMY have been watching the entire time.)

JEFF: Sad stuff. Makes me wish I didn't kill that kid.
TOMMY: YOU WHAT???
JEFF: I didn't mean to. I kinda accidentally on purpose tripped him and a rock smushed his head in, or something.
TOMMY: Oh my God, that's terrible.
JEFF: Yeah. Still, no use crying over spilt haggis. Let's blow.
TOMMY: Actually, I'm going to stay.
JEFF: WHA-???
TOMMY: I'm in love with Fiona, and I'm going to stay with her here until the end of time.
JEFF: Okay, first of all, at the rate our planet's going, I'm guessing you two have a week, two weeks tops. Secondly, you can't just up and leave everything! What about your friends? Your family? Your drinking buddy? Jane?
TOMMY: Who's Jane?
JEFF: YOUR FIANCE.
TOMMY: Fiona makes me feel things I've never felt with Jane. I feel happier, more alive, I burst out into song...
JEFF: Yeah, about that: that's become really annoying.
TOMMY: I love Fiona, I'm staying and that's that.
JEFF: FINE! You stay here in North Bumblef***. I hope you'll be very happy without toilets, electricity, and Vietnamese food. Just don't come crying to me tomorrow when you realize you've made a mistake, BECAUSE I'LL BE DEAD. (leaves)
FIONA: (entering) Tommy, what was that all about?
TOMMY: Fiona, I'm sorry. I can't go through with it. I just need more time.
FIONA: I understand.
TOMMY: You do?
FIONA: No, but it seemed like the right thing to say.
TOMMY: Fiona?
FIONA: Yes, Tommy?
TOMMY: Will you...burst out into song with me...one last time?
FIONA: Of course.
TOMMY & FIONA: (sing:)
Through all the years to come,
and through all the tears to come,
I know I'll be yours from this day on.

(MISTY MYSTICAL HIGHLAND VOICES sing softly as FIONA and Brigadoon are swallowed in the mist.)

FIONA: (dissappearing) Remember me...remember the love that we shared...try not to have sex with anyone...

(And, she is gone. TOMMY wanders offstage as if waking from a dream. Curtain.

Ha! Just kidding. There's still more show.)

NEW YORK, A BAR, THREE MONTHS LATER

JEFF: I love scotch. Scotchy, scotch, scotch. Here it goes down, down into my belly...
BARTENDER FRANK: So, where is Mr. Tommy?
JEFF: I dunno. We got back from Scotland, and then he took off and no one has heard from him.
BARTENDER FRANK: That's strange.
JEFF: You want to know something strange? I'm beginning to see the bottom of my glass.

(Then, TOMMY walks in. Omigod, this is so unexpected!)

JEFF: Tommy! (hic) How the hell are ya?
TOMMY: Not so good, actually. I miss Scotland, I miss Brigadoon...and I miss Fiona.
JEFF: Oh Christ, you're not going to start singing again, are you?

(Just then, JANE, TOMMY's fiancee, enters.)

JANE: OMIGODTOMMY!
JEFF: Uh-oh. It's the old ball 'n chain. I'm not sticking around for this. Good luck, Tommygun.

(JEFF wanders drunkenly offstage. JANE begins to berate TOMMY.)

JANE: And just where the hell have you been these past three months?
TOMMY: I dunno. Doin' stuff.
JANE: Well, I hope you're ready to start planning for the wedding because I've been working my ass off...

(JANE's voice dissappears as TOMMY's memory is awakened.)

MEMORY GHOST FIONA: SAY THAT AGAIN ABOUT MY TOWN AND I'LL CRACK YO ASS, BITCH!

(Then, Tommy realizes: HE'S MADE A MISTAKE.)

TOMMY: What have I done? Jane, I can't marry you.
JANE: Are you shitting me?
TOMMY: I'm sorry.
JANE: You're sorry? You leave me hanging for three months, then out of the blue break up our engagement, and you're sorry?! Well, you can take your "sorry" and shove it up your-
MEMORY GHOST CHARLIE: (sings of the bachelor life.)
TOMMY: 'The hell? Why am I fantasizing about Charlie? I wasn’t even there for that song!
JANE: ...Until the handle breaks off, and you've got to get a surgeon to pull it out again! GOODBYE!
MEMORY GHOST FIONA: Remember me. Remember the love we shared. Remember. Siiiimbaaaa....

(TOMMY springs into action. He calls JEFF, who is just sober enough to ensure his participation in an upcoming trip to Scotland. He's going back! Woo!)

TOMMY: The only woman I ever loved! She’s not dead but I can’t ever be with her again!
JEFF: Yeah, sucks to be you. Can we go now?
TOMMY: Not yet. Just let me look a little longer.
JEFF: Dude, we are so breaking up.

(They are about to leave when suddenly...can it be? The MISTY MYSTICAL HIGHLAND VOICES??? That can only mean one thing...)

LUNDIE: (entering:) Oi! Keep it down, some of us are trying to sleep.
FIONA: (entering:) TOMMY!
TOMMY: FIONA!

(TOMMY goes off with FIONA, Brigadoon dissappears back into the mists, JEFF is alone with his booze, as it was meant to be.)

JEFF: Wait...who's going to drive me home?

(Curtain.)

©2005 Musical Decomposition

The Lion King: Decomposed

2005-07-04T15:51:00.000-07:00

The Lion King
Music by Elton John (and others)
Lyrics by Tim Rice (and others)
Book by Rodger Allers and Irene Mecchi (based on the screenplay by Irene Mecchi, Jonathan Roberts and Linda Woolvertoon)
Notes: I actually have never seen the staged version of "The Lion King", but I have seen the movie and clips on the Tony's. I'm pretty sure that's qualification enough. Anyway, even if I did see the show, I'm sure I could not have come up with anything other than what you are about to read.

ACT I:

RAFIKI: We’re gonna see lions, only in Kenya! (presents Baby Puppet Simba to Animal Puppet Chorus)

ANIMAL PUPPET CHORUS: Lions and tigers only in Kenya! (bow)

YOUNG SIMBA: We’re gonna see tigers

YOUNG NALA: Only in Kenya!

ZAZU: (rolling little birdy eyes) Lions and tigers only in Kenya!

SCAR: (schemes evilly, to hyena minions:) We’ve got Norway.

MUFASA: (falling off cliff:) Kenya!

YOUNG SIMBA: (running away, crying:) Oh, Kenya!

TIMON: Where the giraffes are...

PUMBA: And the zebra!

ACT II:

NALA: Kenya!

RAFIKI: Kenya!

GIANT DEAD MUFASA: Kenya!

SIMBA: (returning home:) Kenya!

SCAR: Kenya! (falls into pit of ravenous hyenas, dies)

SIMBA: (assuming his rightful place as king:) We’re goin’ to Kenya!

ANIMAL PUPPET CHORUS: KENYA BELIEVE IT!

2005 Tony Awards: Decomposed

2005-06-06T14:29:00.000-07:00

Amanda takes on Antoinette Perry in a knock-down, drag-out recap. With special guest stars Dana and Jax. On with the show.

(Amanda sits perched in front of the TV with a laptop and a Lynchburg Lemonade, a.k.a. “snark juice. It is almost time for the show.)

Amanda: TonychatTonychat!
Dana: Dana's predictions: Play: “Doubt”; Musical: “Light in the Piazza” or “Spamalot”; Score: “Adam Guettel”; Book: Spamalot
Amanda: Amanda's predictions: I will get drunk and make out with my hand while I call him "James".
Dana: ITS STARTING!!!
Amanda: IT"S ON!

(Bernadette Peters opens the show. She has not aged or changed her hairstyle since the seventies)

Jax: BERNADETTE!!!
Dana: Dude where's her mike?
Amanda: Why is it that Bernadette Peters never ages?
Jax: Botox.
Dana: Where the hell did they hide her mike?

(Then comes the montage of all the year’s musicals...)

Amanda: Oh “Dracula”...that's it, start with all the crap shows.
Dana: “Brooklyn”...the little show where they wear lots of trashbags
Jax: No one liked Brooklyn but me, right?

(Chitty Chitty Bang Bang is briefly shown.)

Dana: Raul Esparza--one of the best actors with the lowest
self-esteem on Broadway.

(It is the only shot of Raul Esparza we will ever see this evening. Sigh. And then...)

Jax: BUNDITY!

(You see? I made it catch on. More musicals. Dancing, dancing, singing, singing, dancity-sing-sing-dance. “Good Vibrations”, “All Shook Up”...)

Amanda: Oh my God, so many of these shows look like they
suck!
Dana: It was not the best season, sadly.

(Finally, the show actually begins with the musicals that did get nominated.)

Dana: Yay “Spamalot”!
Amanda: YAY! “SPANALOT”!
Jax: “Spanalot” huh?
Amanda: You heard me.
Dana: Please tell me they're not cutting out musical numbers. They had better do numbers still. No damn medleys.
Jax: You're getting a medley right now.
Amanda: Oh, there ya go, D
Jax: “Light in the Pizza”
Amanda: Mmm, pizza
Dana: Ok can anyone else hear Josh Groban singing the songs from “Piazza”?
Jax: I LOVE NOBERT!!!! Oh, medley

(The shortest opening number in the history of ever ends.)

Amanda: And, that's it. Show's over.
Jax: We all win.
Dana: Everyone go home.

(And then the list of presenters is announced. Some of them deserve to be there. Many of them don’t. Apparently, if you were the star of your high school musical and had some notoriety, you get to present a Tony.)

Dana: I love Liev Schreiber. Don't know why. I just do
Jax: What the hell is Ethan Hawke doing at the Tony's?
Amanda: Oh God, for a minute, I thought she said "Christina Aguilera"
Jax: Oh Emmy Rossum: you suck.
Amanda: Sucks hardcore.
Dana: Oh God anorexic Emmy is presenting...there are more rpesenters than awards.
Amanda: And there are. like, 3 stage three shows amongst them all.
Dana: And why is Julia Stiles presenting?

(And our host for the evening...Billy Crystal? What the f***?)

Amanda: HEY! YOU'RE NOT HUGH JACKMAN!
Dana: Jeff Goldblum just got this look of panic.
Amanda: YOU'RE NOT TALL AND AUSTRALIAN!
Dana: Did anyone else see Jeff Goldblum's look of panic?
Amanda: GET OFF THE STAGE, YOU LITTLE POSER!
Jax: Yes.
Dana: Oh Oscar spoof. Piss off Broadway people. Nice.
Amanda: IF there is any Beyonce, I'm throwing out my TV.
Jax: Seriously.

(Hugh Jackman finally appears, via split screen)

Amanda: HUGH!
Dana: HUGH!
Jax: Huge Ackman is phoning it in.
Amanda: HUGHIEHUGHIEHUGH!
Jax: Sexy.
Amanda: And Harvey Firestein is very hairy.
Jax: Not sexy.
Dana: I'm sorry but I can't imagine Harvey Firestein doing “Fiddler”.
Amanda: That's the magic of Broadway, D...ooh, snap!
Dana: cattiness from Hugh Jackman
Amanda: ROWR!
Dana: The man looks good in a tux
Amanda: Let's take a moment to enjoy his prettiness.

(We take a moment to enjoy his prettiness, Billy Crystal will not go away.)

Amanda: Hugh, KICK HIS ASS!
Dana: Ha!
Amanda: DO IT!
Dana: WOW
Amanda: that man has the most beautiful cheek bones EVER.
Dana: Ok Billy Crystal: go. You are not hosting.
Amanda: GET HIM OFF THE STAGE!!!
Jax: Go away. Stop wasting my time.

(And then Billy makes a very surreal cut into the Best Performance By a Featured Actor In a Play.)

Amanda: WOW, that was quick.
Dana: He was presenting this? That was quite a transition...I love Liev Schreiber. He's supposed to be amazing.

(Liev Schrieber wins, as Dana had predicted)

Dana: Sweet!!!
Amanda: yay!
Jax: you love him...I don't know who he is.
Amanda: Dana gets the first gold star of the evening
Dana: Ding!
Amanda: Alan Alda looks like his smile might kill him.

(He thanks everyone in the cast, naming them off one by one...)

Dana: Did he say Fred Willard? Did he say the guy from Christopher Guest's movies?
Jax: Yes
Amanda: I would thank Fred Willard, even if he wasn't in my show.
Jax: He's talking for too long.
Dana: No he's not. He can talk as long as he wants
Amanda: BORING!
Dana: The man is a damn good actor. There's something so terribly appealing about a damn good actor.
Amanda: Yeah, but his speech was boring. Elaine Stritch didn't get to talk as long as she wanted.
Jax: And Stritchy is an old fierce bitch.
Amanda: I wish they would give Elaine Stritch five minutes to say whatever the hell she wants.
Jax: Everyday. On prime time tv
Amanda: Yes. “And now Five Minutes with Stritch, on CBS.”
Jax: And she'd be wearing a white man's dress shirt, black tights, and character shoes.
Dana: And you thought you would never watch CBS again after
"Everybody Loves Raymond" ended.

(Commercials. Dana gets really into the SAAB commercial.)

Dana: I'M FREE! I'M FREE!...Sorry. Couldn't help myself

(And we’re back. The overture from “Phantom of the Opera” frightens us all)

Dana: Do I detect Emmy Rossum?
Amanda: Oh no.
Jax: Please no.

(False alarm. Pretty pretty Hugh Jackman is back.)

Amanda: Oh Hugh, never leave the stage ever, ever.

(And then, what we were all waiting for: HUGH JACKMAN MUSICAL MONTAGE!)

Jax: I LOVE THIS SONG!
Dana: Oh my God
Amanda: Um, I want to see Wolverine do high kicks
Jax: I LOVE THAT HIS ACCENT GOES AWAY WHEN HE SINGS
Dana: He's doing a freaking oldies musical medley. I'm loving it.
Jax: This is brilliant
Dana: This is up there with Maureen McGovern's Rodgers and Hammerstein in 20 seconds.
Amanda: Hugh Jackman just sang “I Feel Pretty.” I think I can die now.
Dana: Shake those hips, Hugh.
Amanda: Oh yeah.
Jax: Don't shake anything, I'm too nervous.

(Then comes the booty shaking!)

Jax: Not the booty.
Amanda: Oh sweet Jesus
Dana: Woo!
Amanda: NOW I can die.
Jax: Yes
Dana: Let's face the music and dance!

(Still booty shaking...)

Jax: LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGH
Amanda: GO HUGH! GO!
Jax: Oh, “Funny Girl”!
Amanda: Just dance, you handsome bastard!
Dana: WOOHOO
Jax: There is a God
Amanda: And he loves showtunes...ENCORE!
Dana: I LOVE IT!

(Suddenly, the camera cuts to...)

Dana: Dude is Tim Curry there with a chick? I thought his sexuality was questionable and unknown?
Amanda: I thought he lived with a dog?

(Now more awards: Julia Stiles and Larry, sorry Lawrence Fishbourne present the award for Best Performance by a Featured Actress in a Play.)

Jax: Julia Stiles? And Morpheus?
Amanda: MORPHEUS, STOP JUSTIFYING YOUR PRESCENCE!
Dana: OH I LOVE DANA IVEY
Jax: Dana Ivey: that's my pick.
Amanda: The black girl will win.

(Adriane Lenox, the black girl, does win)

Dana: You called it, La.
Jax: Black girl won.
Amanda: HA! I was right! “Doubt” is gonna cleanup
Dana: Her dress is awesome...she's giving shoutouts. The Tony's are wild y'all!
Jax: She's sassy.
Dana: MEMPHIS IS IN THE HOUSE!
Amanda: Holla!
Jax: She can't hold this and wash dishes too.
Dana: Remember that one. Thats one for the record books.
Amanda: So, her dead mama will have to do the dishes?

(Mario Cantone and Megan Mullaly present the award for Best Book.)

Amanda: Oh look, a gay man. See how many you can spot.
Jax: Best Book: whats your pick?
Dana: Spamalot.
Jax: Spamalot.
Amanda: SPAMALOT...OR THE CHICK!

(Rachel Shienken, the author of “The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee” wins.)

Dana: WOW
Amanda: HA! I WAS RIGHT!
Jax: I LOVE WHEN CHICKS WIN!
Dana: Okay, now I'm curious.
Jax: Me too
Dana: Have to add “25th Annual...” to the list of shows i must see
soon.

(Musical vamp, and there is John Lithgow...)

Dana: “Dirty Rotten Scoundrels”.
Amanda: Do I detect a musical number?
Dana: Yes i believe you do.
Jax: I love Norbert Butz.
Dana: Would you do him?
Jax: I want to norbert his butz.
Amanda: Heh, butz.
Dana.: Dude, I love David Yazbek. His scores are just FUN.
Amanda: Uh...is this the best musical number in the show?
Dana: I don't care, its fun.

(Norbert Leo Butz is still singing...and still awesome. The CBS censors are just about having anuerims.)

Jax: I'll make every night your bar mitzvah, baby.
Amanda: As long as you don't make everyday his bris.
Dana: Oh geez
Amanda: Whoah, what did they just edit?
Dana: Trying to figure it out.
Jax: I think he said a swear about sex.
Dana: Well yes. But which one is the question

(We never find out. Commercials!)

Amanda: SWEET BUNDITY IS NEXT!
Dana: I'm going to get a commercial drink. Mmm chocolate soymilk

(Dana lives life on the edge. Amanda still sips away at her snark juice. Jax has dirty dreams about Norbert Leo Butz. More commercials.)

Amanda: Top 100 movie quotes...I hope one of them is "I love lamp"

(And, we’re back!)

Amanda: GUYS! SWEET BUNDITY!

(Christina Applegate twirls around a lampost...and takes a tumble into the orchestra pit.)

Amanda: And...she died.
Jax: That was funny.... and stupid.
Dana: People were actually freaked. Come on.
Jax: Everyone looks shocked
Dana: You had to know she'd make fun of herself
Jax: I bet Jerry Mitchell wins for La Cage

(...and he does.)

Dana: you called it, Jax.
Jax: YES! I WIN!
Dana: Jax gets a gold star
Amanda: Well, if one of them was a black chick, I would have called it.

(And then, the dreaded “Music of the Night” theme plays. It’s Emmy Rossum, the human pipe cleaner, and she’s here to present Best Score.)

Amanda: Oh, here she comes.
Jax: Emmy
Amanda: Remember when she was all boobular in “Phantom”?
Dana: GET ANOREXIC EMMY OFF THE STAGE
Amanda: She shrunk!
Dana: You're not getting a role in NY, you hussy.
Amanda: Look into her eyes: nothing. Lights are one, no one’s home
Dana: She’s a stupid twit
Jax: She's like an unattractive Anne Hathaway
Amanda: and she mispronounced "Guettel"

(Adam Guettel wins! All legit singers across the world rejoice!)

Jax: YAY!
Dana: YES!!! GIVE ME ANOTEHR GOLD STAR
Amanda: YAY!
Jax: Me too!!!!
Dana: Dude I LOVE that cd
Amanda: Hey, [Guettel is] kinda hot.
Jax: I kinda want to sex Adam Guettel, too. Is he straight?
Amanda: Dunno. Let's do him and find out.
Dana: Yay grandpa! He cited grandpa.
Jax: Sure did.
Dana: He said "Rodgers and Hammerstein".
Amanda: Because his grandpa is RICHARD FREAKIN' RODGERS.

(Speaking of the grandson of RICHARD FREAKIN’ RODGERS, it’s now time for a musical number from “The Light In the Piazza”. Victoria Clark, put your mic down and take us home.)

Dana: Her mic's not working. That sucks.
Jax: Wait, her mic started working.
Amanda: Oh, there ya go.
Jax: I think she put it in her purse.
Dana: Probably.
Amanda: Yay Guettel! Bring back the sopranos!
Dana: Yeah, La, this is really up your alley. Its serious legit shit
Amanda: that is why I need to find Adam Guettel AND DO HIM
Jax: Except the boy...he's like....scoop tenor
Dana: The male role in the show could be played by Josh Groban
Amanda: Heh, I can see the statue's butt.
Jax: that was a really ugly vowel
Amanda: Dude, what kind of accents are they rockin'? Midwestern?
Jax: Weird.
Dana: North Carolina.
Jax: Bad.
Amanda: Oh, here comes the Hairspray kid

(Link from Hairspray catches Kelli O'Hara[NOT Erin Dilly. Thanks, D]’s hat, and they share meaningful glances.)

Amanda: MAKE OUT!
Jax: or not.

(Commercials.)

Amanda: You guys, maybe I should do a television show, then I can do all the Broadway I want.

(And...we’re back! Doris Roberts and Harry Smith wax theatrical. They share dirty jokes.)

Dana: DORIS!! She's great
Amanda: Love her
Jax: Same
Amanda: Ooh, sex jokes
Jax: Gross ones
Amanda: How randy...not even bleeped out.
Jax: She's drunk
Amanda: That's hardcore, CBS.
Dana: Nice

(Play Montage!)

Amanda: PLAYS!
Jax: was that Mary Louise Parker?
Dana: My aunt said that "12 Angry Men" was phenomenal.
Amanda: I can't believe that John C. Reilly played Stanley in “Streetcar”.
Dana: yeah that’s kind of random.

(C.J. and President Palmer present the award for Best Director of a Play.)

Amanda: DOUBT!
Jax: I'm going with 12 Angry Men.
Dana: I'm saying Joe Mantello.
Amanda: Why does Joe Mantello always look like he's drunk?

(Doubt wins...again.)

Amanda: Wow.
Jax: Dammit.
Amanda: Gold star for me!
Dana: "Oedipal revenge for the son of 2 actors to become a director"
Jax: hehehe

(Chita Rivera comes on stage, she looks about 60 going on 30.)

Jax: OH MY GOD CHITA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Dana: She’s like mid-70s isn't she?
Jax: She's terrifying.
Amanda: Ew, her face is so tight.

(Chita talks about two friends that she lost that year.)

Dana: Who? Who did Broadway lose?
Jax: Cy Coleman and Fred Ebb
Amanda: And no one else.
Dana: My T.V. kinda lost sound while she said it.
Jax: Yes mine too.
Amanda: they better give props to Arthur Miller
Jax: Seriously

(And finally, it’s time: “SWEET BUNDITY”! Hookers, I’m sorry “dance hall hostesses”, try to seduce the audience by screaming as loud as they can.)

Amanda: Um, you guys don't have to shout
Dana: Yeah.
Amanda: HEY! DO YOU WANNA DANCE?!?!
Dana: That was a real fast intro to that song
Jax: Yeah -- they had to speed it up for this I'm sure...where's Bundity?
Amanda: There she is

(Yes. Finally, there is La Applegate. The world says “meh.”)

Jax: she's no Shirley McLain
Dana: DID YOU HEAR COUNTING? SOMEONE WENT " 1 2 3 4"
Amanda: tempo, tempo
Jax: she's breathing in really weird places.
Dana: Our resident dance expert, what do you think so far?
Jax: It was me counting.
Amanda: Oh, Gwen Verdon is probably rolling in her grave
Jax: Not a real singer
Amanda: I just really want to pull her shoulders back. She's a slouchy dancer.
Dana: That was the shortest musical number ever
Jax: Yes
Amanda: And the crowd goes mild

(Commercials. Dana and Jax’s pets are asleep from the heat. Amanda’s dog keeps sitting on top of her and sniffing her butt. The snark juice is holding out well.

And, we’re back. It’s Kathleen Turner and Leiv Schreiber to get the new plays out of the way and onto the pretty, pretty musical numbers. They don’t even show clips: just pictures and sound clips. It’s pretty sad.)

Amanda: Are they doing the voices? Or is it the cast of "Spamalot" off in the wings with a mic?
Jax: Haha, yes that one La.
Amanda: Dude, why don't they just show the clips?
Dana: They’re skimpier with the plays every year
Amanda: It's not f***ing “A Star Is Born”!

(Leslie Uggams and James Earl Jones read the nominations for Best Featured Actress in a Musical. Leslie Uggams makes “Chitty Chitty Bang Bang” sound majestic.)

Dana: She's making James Earl Jones read the nominations...love Joanna Gleason.
Jax: yes
Amanda: CHITTY CHITTY BANG BANG!
Dana: I LOVE DIVA'S LAMENT
Amanda: Go Sara!
Jax: Joanna will win

(No she won’t. Sara Ramirez does. She almost tumbles out of her own dress to get to the stage.)

Amanda: YAY!
Jax: Dammit
Dana: Pull up the tube top honey.
Amanda: Ha! she totally just adjusted herself
Dana: And hacked into the mike
Amanda: She's pulling all the right moves
Jax: that's what I will do when I win my first Tony: I will yank up my tits so they don't fall out on CBS.
Amanda: Oh man, she did not just say "keeping it real"
Jax: She said, "I miss you guys": why?
Dana: She said she missed the cast
Amanda: Dude, they're right there!

(Sara leaves with her dignity intact.)

Amanda: And, she was in “Dance of the Vampires”!

(Well, almost.

Anne Hathaway helps present the Best Featured Actor in a Musical with Monk.)

Dana: Anne and Emmy in the same room: thats insane
Amanda: notice how you never see Anne and Emmy together at the same time, though

(The nominees flash by on the screen, including Link.)

Jax: Ooh that one! The hot one!

(Daniel Fogley wins.)

Jax: Oh no...the ugly one.
Dana: This was his DEBUT??? His BROADWAY DEBUT AND HE WON A TONY???
Amanda: This sounds like my kind of show.
Dana: It definitely is I'm sure La.
Jax: Hehehe
Dana: I wouldn't mind seeing it either
Amanda: I like him!
Dana: Yay for him
Amanda: Yay!

(Daniel Fogarty is awesome. And now it’s time for “La Cage Aux Folles”, starring Robert Goulet!)

Amanda: GOO-lay!
Dana: Its “La Cage” folks
Jax: YAY!
Amanda: That guy's soprano is better than mine
Dana: Yay Gary Beach!

(The Cagelles, dance like whoa and scream at the top of their registers.)

Jax: Those boys are amazing.
Amanda: Get it girls!
Jax: And those boys dance better than any girl I've ever seen
Dana: Yeah seriously
Amanda: It's very Moulin Rouge
Jax: They're all so pretty
Dana: Did you see them all do splits?
Amanda: Whoa, in heels even!
Jax: Its like 15 Matt Gose's
Dana: Wow
Amanda: It kind of makes me wish I had showered today

(More commercials. Amanda goes to get more snark juice.

Back to the Tony’s: the triumphant return of “Avenue Q” and the two most boring people in the room.)

Dana: AVENUE Q
Jax: AW!!!
Amanda: I'm so glad it's just not the old folks...damn, these two are boring
Dana: “The internet is for porn and theatre”
Jax: Brilliant
Dana: I'm adding that for an away message
Amanda: no wonder [those old folks] are in The American Theatre Wing, they can't act.

(Sally Field comes onstage to kiss Edward Albee’s ass.)

Amanda: Edward Albee: way to not die. Congratulations, you outlived Arthur Miller.
Dana: Wow
Amanda: and where is the shout out to Arthur Miller???

(And, thankfully, Hugh Jackman comes out.)

Amanda: Hugh, it's been a long night...just take your shirt off

(Nathan Lane comes on stage to do his contractual Tony appearance.)

Jax: Oh Nathan Lane.....
Amanda: Trying to be topical
Dana: Everyone has that "well this is awkward" look and laugh going
Amanda: Y'all, these are actors, they don't follow the news!

(The nominees for Best Special Theatrical Event are announced.)

Amanda: Oh please let it be Laugh Whore!

(It’s not.)

Amanda: Damnit
Jax: I knew it would be Billy Crystal
Amanda: I think Jesus should have a one-man show on Broadway
Dana: that would be sweet: "Jesus: the Resurrection Tour"

(Billy Crystal takes his sweet old time. The orchestra doesn’t dare touch him.)

Amanda: maybe Hugh Jackman could come on and interrupt him? And take his shirt off?

(Kate Burton announces the Best Regional Theatre Award: The Theatre de le Blah-Blah-Frenchword.)

Amanda: Yay Kate "my Dad was famous" Burton
Dana: I still wish i could've seen her in "Hedda Gabler"
Amanda: “The Theatr-who-what-now”?
Dana: Its French physical comedy. Kinda like a hybrid i think of regular theatre with commedia dell'arte
Amanda: Oh. Maybe I should cut back on the snark juice.
Dana: Umm yeah. Just a little

(Commercials.)

Dana: OK do you guys have the Premarin commercial on right now? "If you have a uterus, premarin may increase the risk of uterine cancer" If you are going through menopause you have a uterus.
Jax: Obviously
Amanda: Really? I thought menopause was when your uterus jumped out of your body?

(Matthew Broderick starts poking fun at the nominees for Best Director of a Musical.)

Dana: Lets make all the directors feel inadequate Matthew
Amanda: Yeah, like theatre people aren't insecure enough
Dana: James Lapine is awesome...Mike Nichols is awesome
Jax: I want Mike Nichols

(It is Mike Nichols.)

Dana: You got it Jax
Amanda: Surprise
Jax: YAY! Gold star #3.
Amanda: I think Mike Nichols has too many awards now...he's gotta cut back.
Jax: Cheer up...life isn't everything. Brilliant
Amanda: Heh, he's been involved with Monty Python too long
Dana: Wait wait...is Eric Idle wearing tiger stripes?
Amanda: Is it so wrong that I love Eric Idle's tux?

(The Best Revival of a Musical, presented by...)

Amanda: it's Felicity and Ducky
Jax: HAHA
Amanda: together at last

(Gee, I wonder who will win?)

Jax: La Cage
Amanda: La Cage
Dana: La Cage

(...”La Cage”.)

Jax: YAY!
Dana: Gold star for us all
Amanda: Oh, big surprise...I mean, the big competition was Sweet Bundity

(It’s now time for “The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee”)

Amanda: Heh, this show looks awesome
Jax: Those real life spelling bees crack me up

(And suddenly...)

Amanda: ...wow.
Dana: WHAT?
Jax: Why is Al Sharpton on stage?

(The gals are won over by “Spelling Bee”’s charms.)

Amanda: This is awesome!
Dana: I WANT TO SEE THIS! OH MY GOD I WANT TO SEE THIS!
Amanda: ME TOO!
Jax: Why Al Sharpton?
Amanda: SHUT UP, IT'S AWESOME

(Commercials.)

Jax: Sigh...
Dana: Why are you sighing J-dawg?
Jax: I'm really tired. When are they done?
Amanda: Jackie, are you going to act like this when you
actually do go to the Tony’s?
Jax: Yes. I'm going to get all dressed up, and then get very sleepy, and then hike up my tits, and then I'm going to pass out in my chair.

(IDINA!)

Dana: IDINA! IDINA!
Jax: I LOVE HER! I LOVE HER!

(Idina is there to announce the technical award winners which were announced earlier that evening. It’s even sadder than the Oscars when they made the technical nominees parade out onstage.)

Amanda: Yay, Guettel!
Dana: Well deserved for orchestrations
Amanda: Yay lighting!
Dana: Well that makes sense--”Light in the Piazza” got best lighting
Jax: Brilliant
Amanda: Yay costumes!
Dana: Wow “Piazza”'s cleaning up
Amanda: Hell yeah
Dana: This is definitely not a “Producers” year
Amanda: Seriously

(Joan Allen arrives...only to be attacked by black beads.)

Amanda: Whoa, Joan Allen has too many necklaces
Dana: Yeah she does.
Jax: they are holding up her neck
Dana: Okay, this is tough, but i'm gonna have to go with “12 Angry Men”
Jax: 12 Angries

(But, it’s not “12 Angry Men”. It’s “Glengarry Glen Ross”. The producer has a stupid little red tie. The snark juice takes its toll.)

Amanda: WHAT?! That is BULLSHIT! “12 Angry Men” went into seven extensions! What the F***?!
Jax: I know man. “12 Angries” it what I wanted too
Amanda: Oh shut up Colonnel Sanders JR.
Dana: oh not Fred Willard. “Fred Weller.”
Amanda: Wah! That just makes me hate that guy even more.

(Laura Linney comes onstage, and Arthur Miller FINALLY gets his props.)

Amanda: Oh, THANK GOD: here's the Arthur Miller shout-out
Dana: RIP Arthur Miller
Amanda: Dude, Laura Linney is not blinkihng

(Oh, but Arthur is not the only one who died this year.)

Amanda: DEATH MONTAGE! Aw, John Raitt
Dana: Jerry Orbach
Jax: Oh Jerry

(And then, as we are honoring those we had lost in reverence...Jesse L. Martin comes out to sing “Razzle Dazzle”. Huh?)

Amanda: Okay, this is kind of tasteless
Dana: Its Broadway
Amanda: Isn't a moment of silence usually the norm?
Dana: you know Jerry Orbach's loving it
Jax: Seriously
Dana: Jesse Martin worked with Jerry, so its not tasteless at all
Amanda: Well, I just talked to Jerry Orbach, and he said he would have preferred a moment of silence
Jax: Nah, he wanted “Lullaby of Broadway” sung by everyone in the auditorium
Dana: Dude that would've been sweet
Jax: Yes
Dana: Can you imagine
Jax: That's what Jerry wanted
Amanda: When I die, I want my picture to appear while "Ah! Sweet Mystery of Life at Last I've Found You" plays
Jax: Mmmokay
Dana: We will make sure that happens
Amanda: Sweet.

(Commercials.)

Amanda: Uh oh, Uncle Junior passed out from the Six Flags excitement.

(And, we’re back. And so is Hugh. Why do you keep going away, Hugh baby? Keep those sweet cheekbones onscreen where we can enjoy them. Anyway, Best Actor in a Play...)

Jax: CRUDUP! LOVE HIM
Amanda: Brian F. O'Byrne! Go Irishman!

(And the winner is...Bill Irwin?!)

Amanda: DAMNIT!
Dana: Bill irwin or what?
Amanda: Y'all, “Doubt” lost something!

(Alan Alda and Marcia Cross are onstage. It’s “Desperate Houswife” and “Desperately Clinging to Life”.)

Amanda: I can't decide who's skinnier.
Dana: Yeah really. And Alan Alda, that was tasteless
Amanda: Cherry Jones is gonna get it

(She does, after planting a big ol’ kiss on her girlfriend.)

Jax: DAMMIT! I wanted MLP.
Dana: Who won?
Amanda: The lesbian
Dana: “Doubt”?
Jax: Yes.
Dana: Ah.
Amanda: Yup.

(Finally, it’s...)

Jax: Oh “Spamalot”.
Dana: Love me some “Spamalot”.
Jax: Tim Curry is fat
Dana: He's getting up there man...ok does anyone else think this part is kinda “Rocky Horrorish”?
Jax: Maybe because its Tim Curry

(The number is kinda awesome, and Sara Ramirez has kind of become my new music theatre hero.

Commercials.)

Amanda: I NEED MORE SNARK JUICE!

(Angela Basset arrives with Etham Hawke)

Amanda: I saw his ass!

(It’s the award for Best Play.)

Dana: “Doubt”
Amanda: “Doubt”.
Jax: “Doubt”

(“Doubt”!)

Dana: Gold stars all around
Jax: YAY!
Amanda: Heh, [Adriane Lenox] just raised the roof

(Dan Patrick Shanley accepts his award.)

Amanda: Wow, that is not how I imagined his voice would sound

(And the lady producer makes her acceptance speech...and takes her sweet ass time.)

Jax: This is taking too long. I am fallig asleep
Dana: She's speaking really slowly
Amanda: SPEED IT UP!
Dana: They shut off the mic. They really shut off the mic.

(Sandra Oh presents with some guy whose name I should remember but obviously I haven’t invested it in my long-term memory.)

Dana: Sandra Oh is great
Amanda: But what is up with her hair?

(Thankfully, Hugh comes back on.)

Jax: YAY HUGH
Amanda: OH YEAH!
Dana: Why is he singing? I mean i don't have a problem with him singing, but why is he singing?
Jax: I FREAKING LOVE HIS VOICE
Dana: What was the reason they gave?
Jax: Honoring Sondheim for some shit?
Dana: Sweet
Amanda: He changed his suit, which means he had to have been shirtless at some point.
Jax: Hugh, quit being Wolverine and just sing to me on CBS right after “5 Minutes with Stritchy”.
Amanda: Wow, Hugh brought out his inner blackness

(Commercials.)

Amanda: I want to shag Hugh Jackman's cheekbones!

(It is way past Amanda’s bedtime.)

Dana: Wow...Harvey fierstein
Amanda: yeah...he's hairy

(The ladies make their Best Actress in a Musical picks)

Amanda: Uh...that woman! Victoria Clark!
Dana: Sutton where's your brother. we want him back!
Jax: It'll probably be freaking Sutton or Sheri.

(It’s that woman! Victoria Clark!)

Dana: SHIT
Jax: Yay La
Amanda: Gold star for me!
Jax: It was not freaking Sutton or Sheri...her dress looks bad on her.
Amanda: Her hair looks fab, though

(She thanks her son.)

Dana: Aww...what a cute kid
Jax: Cute

(She thanks her costars.)

Amanda: Whoa, Kelly O'Hara looks scary up close.

(She thanks more people, and then she leaves.)

Dana: BERNADETTE!
Jax: I LOVE HER TOO! She was my first Music Theatre idol
Amanda: Mine too...but why that dress?
Jax: ‘Cause she's hot and she can wear anything.
Dana: Agreed
Amanda: Touche
Dana: And the hair will never change.

(Best Actor in a Musical:)

Dana: My name is Lancelot...I'm big and strong and hot
Jax: I REALLY LOVE HIM
Amanda: Butz!
Dana: I give up. I’m not guessing. I don't know.
Amanda: Gotta be Butz!

(And it is Butz! Jax is probably throwing her bra at the TV by now.)

Amanda: Butz!!! YES!
Dana: OH MY GOD
Amanda: BUTZ!!!
Jax: I WON I WON!
Dana: HE FREAKING WON OVER JOHN LITHGOW AND TIM CURRY! HOLY SHIT!
Jax: I WON I WON!!!!!
Dana: THAT'S A FEAT!
Amanda: YEAH!
Jax: Today is definately his Bar Mitzvah
Amanda: He's adorable
Dana: Aww
Jax: I LOVE HIM

(Commercials.)

Amanda: Wow, SAAB really love Butz...Hehe, BUTZ!
Dana: I'M FREE! I'M FREE!
Amanda: BUTZ LOVE!
Jax: HAHA!
Dana: I cannot believe that “Two and a Half Men” has lasted as long as it has
Amanda: Cryer must give amazing head, because the person he's blowing to keep the show on is LOVIN’ IT!

(And we’re back, again, for the last time.)

Amanda: Okay, one more to go...one more to go.
Dana: The big one kids.
Jax: I'm walking on air.... my adorable little Jew won!!!
Dana: Dude “Piazza”'s gonna sell out now.
Amanda: Spam or Pizza...which is more delicious?
Dana: Dude don't make me hungry
Amanda: I still think Alan Rickman should have won...something.

(And the winner is...SPAMALOT! SPAMALOTSPAMALOTSPAMALOT!)

Dana: WHAT?
Jax: YAY!!!
Dana: Whoa.
Jax: At least it was funny!!!
Dana: Considering the rest of the night THAT is a surprise.
Amanda: Well, there ya go...and I still love that tux.

(Instead the enjoy an exceptence speech from Eric Idle, though, we have to sit through the babbling of...another freakin’ producer.)

Dana: Eric idle really just like bowed. Deeply.
Amanda: Ick, I hate it when producers talk You are the money! Shut it!
Dana: Yeah why is the creator not talking?

(And the orchestra cuts off the speeches, because only Hollywood award shows have enough clout to run over time.)

Amanda: We speed though the night's biggest award
because we have to get to the local news, and Hugh Jackman was only shirtless off-camera. Everyone loses. Except Spamalot
Dana: That's all folks

(Curtain.)

Les Miserables: Decomposed

2005-05-28T11:14:00.000-07:00

Les Miserables
by Claude-Michel Schoenberg and Alain Boubil
parody based on the Broadway production (1999)
Notes: Schoenberg and Boubil were two crazy bastards to think that Victor Hugo's gigantic epic of death and morality would be a great basis for a musical. Cameron Mackintosh was an even crazier bastard to think that English-speaking audiences would dig it. Against all odds and reason, though, it worked. "Les Miserables" is here to stay. Take that, CATS!
I do love the show. I have to. If I didn't love it, I'd be tarred, feathered, and excomunicated from the American theatrical community. So please, spare me the hate mail.
Sit back, relax, and enjoy my attempt at condensing a mammoth show based on a mammoth book.

DIGNE, FRANCE 1815

(A MISERABLE prison full of MISERABLE prisoners who work as a MISERABLE chain gang.)

PRISONERS: Dieu! We are so miserable. Such is life, no?

(And then INSPECTOR JAVERT enters, and he is “le bitch”.)

JAVERT: Bring me Prisoner 24601... (reads from scroll) “Valjean, Je...” Whoah.
VALJEAN: What is it?
JAVERT: Your parents named you “Jean Valjean”? No wonder you ended up in jail.
VALJEAN: Tell me about it.
JAVERT: Anyway, you’ve served your sentence. Your a free man...except for the part where you have to present this ticket wherever you go to let everyone know you’re an ex-con. Have fun trying to make an honest living.
VALJEAN: DUDE, THIS IS SO NOT FAIR!
JAVERT: It’s more than you deserve, you foul, murdering, rapist...
VALJEAN: I stole a loaf of bread!
JAVERT: Just stay out of trouble. I’LL BE WATCHING YOU!
VALJEAN: Oh yeah? Well then, watch my French ass as it disappears over the horizon. I’m outta here!
PRISONERS: SO MISERABLE!

(VALJEAN tries to make it in the world; for some reason no one wants to hire a convicted criminal.)

VALJEAN: But, I’m a hard worker! I’m strong, fit...
FARM OWNER: I don’t hire no criminals! I runs a clean bizness here! Get offa my property!
VALJEAN: (grumble, grumble, toil, grumble, suffering, grumble.)
FARM OWNER: AND KEEP OUT THE HELL OUT!

(Life: she is a thoughtless bitch, no?

Things get worse for VALJEAN, but then a kindly BISHOP takes pity on him.)

BISHOP: I will give you supper and then you can spend the night here.
VALJEAN: SCORE!
BISHOP: While you finish eating, I’m gonna turn in. Do you mind putting away the lovely, expensive silver dishes away?
VALJEAN: Um...sure...no problem...I’ll just put them away...and I’m totally not going to jack them in the middle of the night.

(VALJEAN totally jacks the dishes in the middle of the night. He exits the BISHOP’s house with the stealth of a cat...who’s tail is on fire. He’s not very quiet, and he is nabbed. The jig, she is up. C’est la vie.)

SOME TOWNSPERSON: Oi, Bishop! We found this bearded guy running off with your silver plates.
ANOTHER TOWNSPERSON: He said you gave them to him as a gift.
BISHOP: Well, I’m afraid this man is lying...
TOWNSPEOPLE: HA!
BISHOP: ...because I also gave him these silver candlesticks, but he must have forgotten them in his haste.
TOWNSPEOPLE: ...Oh.
BISHOP: Thanks for your help, anyway. Bless you all and stuff.

(exeunt TOWNSPEOPLE.)

BISHOP: Well, son, seems like I just served you a heaping spoonful of humility.
VALJEAN: Tastes like...burning.
BISHOP: Damn right. Well, you know what to do now. My work here is done. BISHOPMAN, AWAY!

(BISHOPMAN flies away. We never see him again, but rest assured that if ever a citizen is in need of moral guidance, BISHOPMAN will be there.)

VALJEAN: Holy cripe! What kind of man have I turned into? I’ve got toturn my life around. I’m going to become a better man...BY BREAKING PAROLE!

(Makes sense. In some countries...France being one of them. I guess.

Anyway, we flash forward a couple years later to another town Americans have never heard of. The poor whine and complain and kvetch, and I’m guessing that these are “Les Miserables”?)

1823, MONTREUIL-SUR-MER

LES MISERABLES: We’re poor! We’re cold! It sucks to be us!

(But the cries of the downtrodden go unheard by Cameron Mackintosh, who sits high above the world on a pile of cash and prostitutes. We move from “Les Miserables” to “Other Miserables”: A blonde factory worker named FANTINE is getting sexually harassed by the FOREMAN while her coworkers gossip about her. And I thought temping sucked. Rebuffed, the FOREMAN tosses a letter at FANTINE, which she reads eagerly.)

BITCHY COWORKER: Ooh, what’s in the letter, Fantine?
FANTINE: Piss off.
BITCHY COWORKER: Is it from a secret admirer?
FANTINE: I said, piss off.
BITCHY COWORKER: (reading:) “Dear Fantine, Your secret, illigitimate daughter is sick, so please send us more money to buy her ‘medicine’.”
FANTINE: Alright, bitch! NOW IT’S ON!

(FANTINE uncorks a bottle of Le Whoop-Ass. Catfight! The fight gets so out of hand that it attracts the attention of the factory’s owner...OH MY GOD, IT’S JEAN VALJEAN!)

VALJEAN: Break it up! Now, I want you all to settle down, because in addition to owning this factory I am also the mayor...just in case you all forgot. And since I am the owner of this factory and the mayor, I simply do not have time to sort this out myself. Oi, Foreman!
FOREMAN: Yo.
VALJEAN: You got any personal hang ups with either of these two ladies?
FOREMAN: None that I’ll admit.
VALJEAN: Sweet. Settle this fight for me. I’ve got to get back to owning the factory and being the mayor. (he leaves)
BITCHY COWORKER: Ooh! Mr. Foreman! Fantine started the fight! She got mad because I found out about the secret illigitimate child she has.
FANTINE: Man, you are an unbelievable bitch!
FOREMAN: FANTINE, YOU LYING, SNEAKING WHORE-STRUMPET! I FIRE YOU BECAUSE OF MY PERSON HANG-UPS!
FACTORY WORKERS: HA-HA!

(FANTINE forlornly exits the factory.)

FANTINE: Well, this roundly sucks. I don’t think things can get any worse.

(Oh, but this show has only just started, and the title isn’t “Les Cheerfuls”. Let the Shame Parade begin...)

WHORES: SEX! SEX FOR SALE! GET US WHILE WE’RE HO-, YOUN-, DISEASE-FR-, ALIVE!
A CREEPY OLD LADY: Ooh, me likey your locket!
FANTINE: SOLD!
WHORES: (cough, cough)...moneyforsex ...(cough)...becomeawhore...(cough).
ANOTHER CREEPY OLD LADY: Your hair is so pretty...
FANTINE: Um, thanks?
ANOTHER CREEPY OLD LADY: So pretty...so pretty...
FANTINE: Look, do you want to buy? Because you’re starting to freak me out.
ANOTHER CREEPY OLD LADY: Ten Francs?
FANTINE: Done and done.
WHORES: Uh, hello? Are you going to join us or not, because we might do better in a different location.
FANTINE: I have no daughter, no money, no locket, and no hair...you expect me to give up my dignity, too?

(Pause)

FANTINE: Oh, what the hell. Rouge me, girls.

(So, FANTINE becomes a whore. Insert your own joke about French whores here.

In the next scene, some RICH ASS checks out FANTINE.)

RICH ASS: Hey, baby! Looking for a good time?
FANTINE: Not with you, ass.
RICH ASS: But I’m willing to pay good money for some sucky-sucky!
FANTINE: I may be desperate, but even I have my limits.
RICH ASS: WHORE! I WANT SUCKY-SUCKY AND I WANT IT NOW!
FANTINE: GET OFF ME, ASS!

(FANTINE smacks him. The RICH ASS cries. JAVERT decides now would be a good time to get off his ass and mess up someone else’s life, so he comes back into the story.)

JAVERT: Okay, what seems to be the trouble around here?
RICH ASS: Inspector! I was just walking along not looking for sucky-sucky, when out of nowhere this whore attacks me!
JAVERT: Woo-hoo! Somebody to arrest! Now, come quiety, whore, or-
VALJEAN: (entering) What’s going on around here?
JAVERT: Oh, nothing, Mayor. Just arresting this whore who attacked this innocent rich ass.
FANTINE: WAH! I was a good girl before! And then a horrible, mean, no-good guy seduced me and left me preggers, so I gave my child away to some innkeeper and his wife, and I give them all the money I have, and then the world ignored my plight, and then I got fired, and then I sold everything I owned including myself, and now I’m going to lose my freedom because of a cold, unfeeling society refused to recognize my plight.

(FANTINE collapses under the weight of Victor Hugo’s allegory.)

VALJEAN: Oh no! We’ve got a sick whore on our hands! She needs to go to a hospital!
JAVERT: But...don’t I...don’t I get to arrest her?
VALJEAN: You: shut up. Hospital: NOW!

(FANTINE is carried off.)

JAVERT: (sulks) Don’t I get to arrest anyone today?
VALJEAN: (silence)

(And then...)

PANICKY TOWNSFOLK: RUN! RUN! RUNAWAY PLOTPOINT! EVERYONE RUN AS SLOW AS YOU CAN!

(A big-ass cart tumbles down the street...or so we’re told. Everyone runs in slow-motion until...)

VALJEAN: Oh no! Some Guy got run over by the cart!
TOWNSFOLK: OH NO! NOT SOME GUY!
VALJEAN: We’ve got to lift this massive, heavy cart and save him!

(Pause.)

VALJEAN: Will no one save this man?!

(Long pause; TOWNSFOLK look away and whistle.)

VALJEAN: Oh, FINE!

(VALJEAN lifts the heavy cart all by hisself.)

JAVERT: Damn. That’s hardcore.

(Finally, SOME GUY is pulled out from under the Cart of Doom.)

JAVERT: That was some pretty impressive lifting, Monsieur Madelaine.

(Pause)

JAVERT: ...Monsieur Madelaine?
VALJEAN: Oh right! That’s me! Why, thank you, Inspector. And that was some pretty impressive slow-motion running.
JAVERT: You know, I’ve only known one other man with that kind of strength. Have you ever heard of a man named Jean Valjean?
VALJEAN: (quickly) I ONLY STOLE A LOAF OF BREAD!
JAVERT: (confused look) ...Come again?
VALJEAN: I said “Valjean? I’m pretty sure he’s dead.”
JAVERT: Oh, no way. We arrested him yesterday.
VALJEAN: WHA-???
JAVERT: Of course, there is no actual evidence to convict him, but I’m pretty sure it’s the same guy. Anyway, his trial is today, in case you feel like stopping by and, I dunno, point and laugh, or something.
VALJEAN: Yeah. Sure. Sounds like fun.

(Exit Javert.)

VALJEAN: Oh crap. What do I do now? If I stay silent, an innocent man will go to jail. But, if I confess, everyone at my factory will be out of a job.
GOD: Yeah. I’m sure this has everything to do with keeping your workers happy and nothing to do with you going back to jail.
VALJEAN: Well, that is true, however-
GOD: Boy, don’t make me come down there.
VALJEAN: Okay, fine! I’m going already! Jesus Christ!
GOD: Don’t take my son’s name in vain.
VALJEAN: Jeezie-Creezie, I’m going.

(VALJEAN breaks into the courtroom amidst gasps and high notes.)

VALJEAN: Javert, you’re sending the wrong man to jail! I’m the man you seek: Jean Valjean, Prisoner 24601! (rips open shirt, and displays bad-ass prison tattoo.)
JAVERT: ...DAMNIT!

(In the confusion, VALJEAN escapes to the hospital where FANTINE is dying of Consumption, or Plot Contrivance, or something.)

FANTINE: Promise me you’ll take care of my daughter.
VALJEAN: Sure thing.
FANTINE: Do you want me to tell you what town she’s in?
VALJEAN: No, I’m pretty sure I can find it myself.
FANTINE: Well, do you want to know the name of the people who are looking after her?
VALJEAN: Nope. I’ll find them, somehow.
FANTINE: Do you at least want to know what she looks like?
VALJEAN: She’s blonde like you, right?
FANTINE: Acccckkk, death rattle, nnnnggghhh

(And the merciless “Les Miserables” has claimed its first victim. JAVERT enters.)

JAVERT: Ha! 24601, you will come with me now!
VALJEAN: Javert, wait! I know I broke the law and stuff, but you’ve got to give me time to help the illegitimate child of this poor woman who died before she could prove or disprove my story.

(Pause.)

VALJEAN: You’ve got to believe me!
JAVERT: You must think I have the mental capacity of a baguette! Nineteen more years of prison bitchery for you!
VALJEAN: Well, I could go with you, serve part of my sentence, and then escape when I fake my death during a complicated ship-bound rescue...or, I could beat the ever-loving snot out of you.

(VALJEAN beats the ever loving snot out of JAVERT and escapes.

MONTFURMEIL: the inn of the THENARDIERS who have been taking care of LITTLE COSSETTE. If by “taking care of” you mean “forcing unpaid labor upon”, that is.)

LITTLE COSSETTE: Oh, how I wish I could escape this awful place and go to a castle on a cloud where I could play with nice children and such. Le sigh.
MADAME THENARDIER: GO INTO THE WOODS AND GET ME SOME WATER!
LITTLE COSSETTE: Damn, you look like shit.
MADAME THENARDIER: Life is shit: inhale that slowly. WATER NOW!

(Poor LITTLE COSSETTE scampers into the dark, dark woods in search of water.

Meanwhile, back at the inn:)

MONSIEUR THENARDIER: Hi! I’m the Master of the House. Even though I rip people off and am twelve kinds of evil, everyone loves me!
PATRONS: We love you, Master of the House! Rip us off some more!
MONSIEUR THENARDIER: What can I say? I loves all the people.

(LITTLE COSSETTE meets a stranger in the woods)

LITTLE COSETTE: Hi. Who are you?
VALJEAN: I’m here to take you away with only the noblest of intentions.
LITTLE COSETTE: Oh. Okay.

(And LITTLE COSSETTE goes off with a stranger, which you should always do, especially if they have candy.)

VALJEAN: Good evening Monsier Thenardier. It’s nice to meet you. And where is Madame Thenardier?
MADAME THENARDIER: I am Madame Thenardier.
VALJEAN: Yikes.
MONSIEUR THENARDIER: What do you want?
VALJEAN: I’m here to take Cossette away.
MONSIEUR THENARDIER: Take away our baby?! NOOO!!! HOW WILL WE EVER REPLACE HER?!
VALJEAN: Will fifteen hundred franks fill the void?
MONSIEUR THENARDIER: Sure will! YOINK!
VALJEAN: Come, Cossette. Let us make a better life for ourselves...in Paris!

(PARIS, 1832, THE BETTER LIFE...which is full of beggars and hookers and appears to be made up entirely of broken furniture.

And just when you thought we didn’t have enough characters in the story: enter GAVROCHE, the precocious (annoying) Artful Dodger-type kid...also, EPONINE, the THENARDIERS’ teenage daughter who likes to run around the street in her underwear...also also ENJOLRAS and MARIUS who have nothing to do other than look pensive and handsome.)

MARIUS: Damn, am I ever pensive. And handsome.
ENJOLRAS: Any day now Lamarque will die and we will fight for our cause.
MARIUS: Wait, what’s our cause again?

(Suddenly, VALJEAN goes by with gown-up COSSETTE.)

COSSETTE: (sees Marius) Hey, who’s the pensive-looking hottie over there?
MARIUS: (sees Cossette) Whoah! Looks like God sent down a little peice of heaven on a doily!
EPONINE: (nervously) Where? All I see is a brunette hag with an old Irish tenor.
THENARDIER: (disguised as a begger, to VALJEAN) Hey, haven’t I seen you before?
VALJEAN: (sees JAVERT enter) Nope. Bye!

(VALJEAN grabs COSSETTE and leaves. MARIUS is smitten, and ENJOLRAS has to take over his “pensive duties”. EPONINE pines. JAVERT misses VALJEAN again, so he sings a song about stars.

Yes. Stars.

Monsieur Bad-Ass Mofo Inspector JAVERT likes stars.

Whatever.

Anyway, ENJOLRAS is holding a meeting with some STUDENTS. Wine flows like water while they talk about philosophy and stuff. This is what college kids did before keggers were invented.)

ENJOLRAS: The time will come soon when we will fight for our cause!
SOME STUDENT: Um, what is our cause, again?

(Pause)

GAVROCHE: (entering) You guys! Lamarque is dead!
STUDENTS: OH NO! ...who’s Lamarque?
ENJOLRAS: Okay, I’ve just come to an excutive decision: REVOLUTION!
STUDENTS: Dude! Isn’t that a little bit extreme?
ENJOLRAS: Hey, what else are we going to do in this show?

(Pause)

STUDENTS: REVOLUTION!

(So, ENJOLRAS and the CHILDREN OF LES REVOLUTION march through the streets bringing their cause to the downtrodden. The downtrodden seem to dig it, but I have a feeling that they care about as much as those hippies who wore “Free Mumia” buttons back in the late nineties.

But I guess it’s the spirit that counts.

MARIUS, however, is still totally crushing on COSSETTE, and EPONINE agrees to take him to her house, because she is a moron.)

COSSETTE: (praying in a garden) Oh God,? I am totally crushing on this guy? I don’t know his name, but I saw him for a good thirty seconds? Will you please send “Monsieur Guy” to me?
MARIUS: (falling into garden over fence:) Oof!
COSSETTE: THANK YOU!

(MARIUS and COSSETTE pledge eternal love. EPONINE whines. Suddenly, stuff happens on the other side of the fence. THENARDIER apparently is no longer Master of the House, but the Master of Robbing Someone Else’s House.)

THENARDIER: (arriving with thugs) Hey guys! This is Jean Valjean’s house! Let’s rob him!
SOME THUG: And how exactly did you find out where he lived or even his real name when you saw him for, like, a minute?
THENARDIER: Look, do you want to rob this house tonight, or waste a musical number going through nine years of backstory?
SOME THUG: Touche. Hand me a crowbar.
EPONINE: Hey guys.
THENARDIER: AHHHHHH!!!! WHO THE HELL IS THAT?!?!
THUGS: Dude, calm down! It’s only your daughter.
THENARDIER: Oh. Right. I knew that. Eponine, Daddy’s “working” right now. Why don’t you run along, and I’ll buy you some fancy underwear or something.
EPONINE: Yeah. I think not.
THENARDIER: ...I beg your pardon?
EPONINE: Um...don’t rob the house, Dad.
THENARDIER: ...WHAT???
THUGS: OH NO SHE DI’N!

(THENARDIER and EPONINE squabble like two starved hyenas over a zebra carcass, and the THUGS appreciate the free show from a safe distance . Finally, EPONINE screams and THENARDIER and co. run away peeing their pants.)

THENARDIER: (running away, peeing his pants) YOUNG LADY, YOU ARE SO GROUNDED! JUST WAIT ‘TIL I GET HOME AND TELL YOUR MOTHER!

(VALJEAN, who must have been listening to books on tape for the past ten minutes, finally rushes out to see what the problem is, and MARIUS hides because he no longer has pensiveness to protect him. COSSETTE makes up some story about screaming when she saw robbers.)

JEAN VALJEAN: Why, it must have been Javert! Cossette, based on your story I’ve decided that we must leave the country tomorrow!
COSSETTE: SONOFABITCH!
JEAN VALJEAN: What was that?
COSSETTE: I said, “I’ll be ready in a stitch”.
MARIUS: (cries)
EPONINE: Oh no. She is. leaving. How sad.

(VALJEAN and COSSETTE pack musically. EPONINE pines musically. The THENARDIERS scheme musically. JAVERT decides to take a break from fugitive-hunting and go undercover as the world’s oldest revolutionary...musically. MARIUS can’t decide what to do.)

MARIUS: I don’t know what to do!
ENJOLRAS: Want to join in our vague cause and march towards certain doom?
MARIUS: ...Musically?
ENJOLRAS: Is there any other way?
MARIUS: I’m in!

(So, MARIUS joins ENJOLRAS and the CHILDREN OF LES REVOLUTION. Musically. All this musicality builds into one big cathartic moment that’s so exciting no one can understand what the hell anyone is singing. Act I finally ends. Phew!)

ACT II:

ENJOLRAS: Okay, gang. Let’s nail a bunch of random shit together and build a barricade to fight for our cause!
SOME REVOLUTIONARY: What’s our cause, again?
ENJOLRAS: Just shut up and hand me that nightstand.

(EPONINE sneaks in wearing a clever disguise which consists of a coat and some trousers. MARIUS asks her to bring COSSETTE a message. EPONINE agrees, because she is a moron. She brings the note which is intercepted by VALJEAN. EPONINE walks home mournfully singing of her love for MARIUS in a way that all teenage girls identify with. Man, will they be surprised when they read the book and find out that EPONINE is actually a crazy whore.

Meanwhile, ENJOLRAS and the CHILDREN OF LES REVOLUTION have made a rather slap-dash baricade out of furniture. Sure, it’s ugly, but it can fit itself together like a Transformer, which is kind of cool.)

VOICE OF FRENCH SOLDIER: Here’s the deal: give up now, and we won’t kill you as much.
ENJOLRAS: Rot in hell, ya cheese-eating Royalist monkeys!
VOICE OF FRENCH SOLDIER: Hate the game, man. Not the playa.

(Undecover JAVERT tries to give ENJOLRAS some bad advice, until GAVROCHE outs him as a police spy. They tie him up. EPONINE climbs right over the barricade in a shower of bullets.)

EPONINE: Hey Marius!
MARIUS: EPONINE! Did you give Cossette the note?
EPONINE: No, but I did give it to some old guy. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to take a nap (collapses).
MARIUS: OH MY GOD! WHAT’S ALL THAT RED STUFF ON YOU???
JAVERT: Get used to it. You’ll be seeing a lot more of it soon.

(EPONINE dies in MARIUS’ arms. She sacrificed her life, because love is stronger and more powerful than...because she is a moron. A few REVOLUTIONARIES carry her body offstage to make room for all the corpses that will litter the barricade later in the show. Then, somebody else decides it would be a good idea to climb the barricade: JEAN VALJEAN! That man is everywhere.)

VALJEAN: I know that I’m an old guy wearing a French soldier’s uniform, but I want you to let me help you.
ENJOLRAS: You mean like we almost let that tied-up guy over there help us?
VALJEAN: Javert?
JAVERT: Oh shit.
ENJOLRAS: Tell you what, Old Dude. You can kill the spy, if you want to be useful.

(ENJOLRAS and the CHILDREN OF LES REVOLUTION stare upstage to give VALJEAN a little privacy with the old ball-and-chain.)

JAVERT: Well, this day just keeps getting better and better.
VALJEAN: Oh, shut up. You’ve been nothing but a pain in the ass since the day I met you. (Cuts him free) Go take your upright obsessiveness somewhere else, ‘mkay?
JAVERT: Wait. Wait. You’re...you’re letting me go?
VALJEAN: Yup.
JAVERT: But...but...you’re supposed to kill me.
VALJEAN: Yeah, well, maybe tomorrow. Now get out of here.
JAVERT: ...buh?...whuh?
VALJEAN: What are you waiting for, an invitation? GET THE HELL OUTTA HERE!

(And so he does. The CHILDREN OF LES REVOLUTION turn around like they didn’t hear that entire exchange.)

ENJOLRAS: Okay, gang. Enough revolution for today. Let’s get bombed and pass out.
CHILDREN OF LES REVOLUTION: Now, this is a cause I can understand!
MARIUS: What do I care about getting drunk or dying tomorrow. Cossette is gone, and even though I knew her for about five minutes, she was the best thing to ever happen to me. (cries, sleeps)
CHILDREN OF LES REVOLUTION: (get bombed, pass out)
VALJEAN: God?
GOD: ‘Sup?
VALJEAN: God, let me die tomorrow if someone has to die, but please let this Marius kid live because he is so young.
GOD: Just Marius? What about those other students?
VALJEAN: Um, no thanks. I’m good.
GOD: Really? Because they’re all young, and they all have parents who lo-
VALJEAN: UNLESS EVERYONE ON THE BARRICADE IS SEXING UP MY FAKE DAUGHTER, I ONLY WANT YOU TO SAVE MARIUS.
GOD: Ohhhhh. Okay.

(Morning rises. The CHILDREN OF LES REVOLUTION wake up: time for a fresh day of death!)

SOME REVOLUTIONARY: Um, Enjolras? We’re out of bullets?
ENJOLRAS: WHO FORGOT TO PACK THE EXTRA BULLETS?!?!
ANOTHER REVOLUTIONARY: I couldn’t fit them in with the merlot.
ENJOLRAS: Well, someone is going to have to go out there and get extra bullets.

(Long pause.)

CHILDREN OF LES REVOLUTION: NOT IT!
ENJOLRAS: You guys, I’m never revolting with you again.
CHILDREN OF LES REVOLUTION: (hang heads)
GAVROCHE: I’ll get the bullets! I’m the precocious (annoying) kid, and we all know that kids never die in musicals!

(Except this one, because GAVROCHE is gunned down in about thirty seconds. It’s very sad...I guess?)

CHILDREN OF LES REVOLUTION: OH MY GOD! DID YOU SEE THAT?! THEY JUST SHOT A LITTLE KID!!!
ENJOLRAS: Hey, I didn’t tell him to go! He wasn’t even supposed to be here.
CHILDREN OF LES REVOLUTION: SHOT HIM RIGHT THERE!!!
ENJOLRAS: Look, this is war. And if we aren’t willing to die for a cause...
CHILDREN OF LES REVOLUTION: Man, SCREW YOU, ENJOLRAS! We’re spoiled, rich students with nothing better to do than hang out on a pile of broken furniture and shit, and it isn’t fun anymore! WE DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT OUR FRIGGIN’ CAUSE IS!
ENJOLRAS: Well, it’s...it’s complicated...It has something to do with red...and black...
CHILDREN OF LES REVOLUTION: WE WANNA GO HOOOOOOOME!!!

(Then, all hell breaks loose. Bullets are flying, the CHILDREN OF LES REVOLUTION drop like flies. ENJOLRAS gets so pissed off that he grabs the red revolution flag, stands on top of the barricade and waves it like mad.)

ENJOLRAS: HIT ME! HIT ME! HIT ME, YOU MOTHER@#$%ERS! HIT ME!
FRENCH ARMY: Uh, okay. (hit him)

(The music becomes full of dischord and cluster tones. In musical theatre this can only mean certain death. All the CHILDREN OF THE REVOLUTION die, especially ENJOLRAS, whose body splays symbolically across the red flag.

It seems like the revolution is on hold for now. C’est la vie.

But wait! MARIUS is only mostly dead, and VALJEAN is even less dead. He carries MARIUS into the sewer, as per standard medical procedure. JAVERT, who isn’t dead at all, goes after them. JAVERT may have some abandonment issues.

In the sewer, THENARDIER is pulling gold teeth out of a corpse. Remember: he’s a bad guy. Don’t love him, no matter how funny he may be. He comes across MARIUS, picks his pocket, recognizes an unconcious VALJEAN and runs away. I’m sure this won’t turn up as a plot point sometime later.

VALJEAN gets his beaten ass up, swings mostly-dead MARIUS over his shoulder, and keeps on plugging away. He climbs out of the sewer.)

VALJEAN: I made it! I’m home free! Nothing can stop me now.
JAVERT: Hi.
VALJEAN: DAMNIT!
JAVERT: I just wanted to...can we talk about what happened on the barricade back there?
VALJEAN: Now is not really a good time.
JAVERT: But you could have killed me and gotten rid of me forever. Why didn’t you?
VALJEAN: Why? Because it was the decent thing to do! It’s called mercy: look into it. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got to get this boy some help before he goes from mostly-dead to all-dead.
JAVERT: But I...
VALJEAN: DAMNIT, DO WE HAVE TO GO THROUGH THIS EVERY TIME? I’M LEAVING, YOU’RE STAYING, I’LL BE BACK: GOT IT?
JAVERT: Okay.

(exit VALJEAN.

JAVERT talks a walk along the River Seine to ponder the night’s events.)

JAVERT: Hmmmm. Mercy. Mer-cy. Mmmuurrrrsssee. What is “mercy”? Can you eat it? Does it make a noise? Is mercy that little dent between your nose and lip? Does it smell? Where do you find it? Under rocks? In water? Is it in this river? (Jumps into the river) I guess not. AAAAAARRRRRglglglglgggglghhh....

(Poor misguided JAVERT and his out-of-date ponytail drown in the river. C’est la- oh, forget it.

Sometime later, MARIUS thinks about ENJOLRAS and the CHILDREN OF LES REVOLUTION, before they got shot and killed and stuff. Damn. Recapping “Les Miserables” is depressing.)

MARIUS: Why am I still here when they are gone? Why? I have nothing.
COSSETTE: You’ve got me!
MARIUS: I wasted my life fighting for a cause that didn’t even exist.
COSSETTE: Oh, you’re just cranky because all your friends are dead.
MARIUS: And where the hell were you the entire time I was fighting?

(Pause.)

COSSETTE: (bats eyelashes)
MARIUS: Oh, I can’t stay mad at you for long. Let’s get married.
COSSETTE: YAY! I love you, Monsieur Guy!
MARIUS: Marius.
COSSETTE: ...Marius!

(COSSETTE floats offstage in the rosy glow of young love. Kids.

Enter VALJEAN.)

VALJEAN: Marius, I’m glad that you’re going to take care of my “daughter”. I’m going to go away for a long time...actually, I’m going away forever. Please don’t let Cossette know where I’ve gone.
MARIUS: Gee, why can’t you just stay with us and be happy?
VALJEAN: Because this is not that kind of musical.

(Flash-forward to MARIUS and COSSETTE’s wedding day. The THENARDIERS crash the party all pimped out.)

MARIUS: What the hell are you doing here?
THENARDIER: Can’t a man celebrate with two young people as they start their lives together?
MARIUS: (stares)
THENARDIER: Oh, who am I kidding? I’ve got some information on your father-in-law I’d like to sell you. He’s a murderer.
MARIUS: Sheah. Right.
THENARDIER: It’s true! I found him in the sewers with a dead guy the night of the poorly executed revolution. Look: here’s a ring that I “borrowed” off the body.
MARIUS: Wait a minute...that’s my ring! Do you know what this means?
THENARDIER: ...You’re actually a ghost?
MARIUS: Shut up. (Punches him) Come on, Cossette! We have to find your father.

(MARIUS leaves with COSSETTE in tow. The THENARDIERS gloat over their success.

The THENARDIERS are people of questionable morality, the world’s worst parents, and horrible dressers...and yet, they get away with everything scott free while everyone else died on a pile of broken furniture.

I don’t know. You tell me.

Meanwhile, in a little room somewhere, VALJEAN is going to die. We know he is going to die, because FANTINE has decided to make her first appearance since Act I.)

COSSETTE: (rushing on with MARIUS) Daddy!
VALJEAN: “Daughter”!
MARIUS: Oh, Monsieur! Forgive me! I did not know you were the one who saved me!
VALJEAN: That’s because I didn’t tell you.
MARIUS: I...oh yeah.
COSSETTE: Daddy! What happened to you? Why are you all stinky and wrinkly?
VALJEAN: Because I’m about to die. We all die at some point. Even you, someday, will die. Maybe not in this show, but perhaps in the sequel: Les Miserables 2: Still Miserables. Some of us die of old age, like me, some of us die on barricades, like Enjolras, and some of us die from whoring, like your mother.
COSSETTE: (stunned silence.)
VALJEAN: Whoops. That didn’t sound like the way I had planned.
DEAD FANTINE: Oh smooth move, boss. Now, it’s time to go.
VALJEAN: Anyway, Cossette, I left you a note explaining everything. Have a good life without me. It’s been real, yo.
COSSETTE: (cries)
VALJEAN: Monsieur Guy...
MARIUS: Marius.
VALJEAN: Marius. Take care of my fake daughter for me.
DEAD FANTINE: Come with me...Come with me...
VALJEAN: Damnit, woman! I am dying as fast as I can! Ease up.

(VALJEAN finally, finally, finally dies for real. DEAD EPONINE helps DEAD FANTINE bear his soul up to heaven with all the souls of the CHILDREN OF LES REVOLUTION and others. JAVERT is noticeably absent. The cast delivers the stirring, inspirational message of Victor Hugo’s masterpeice...)

LES DEAD: Life sucks, and then you die. The end! “Les Miserables”!

(Curtain.)

Prologue

2005-05-28T11:04:00.000-07:00

Welcome to "Musical Decomposition". This is a blog dedicated to taking the piss out of music theatre in all forms: on Broadway, off-Broadway, off-off-Broadway, regional, tours, The West End and much, much more! Man, there is no show that I can't make fun of, even the shows I like. Especially the shows I like.

The show's about to begin, so please turn off all cell phones, pagers, and babies. If you have any hard candy, please unrap it now. If you have any Lindt truffles, please give them to me. If you have any questions, please feel free to comment.

And, finally, tonight the part of "Amanda", normally played by Amanda, will be played by Amanda.

Thank you and enjoy the show.