First on "Falsettos"

Because Wildsnowflake asked me to (see April 10 post), I went to last night's press opening of "Falsettos" at George Street Playhouse in New Brunswick. Always fun to revisit the Hub City. Was short on time so I ate at Fillippos (how lame is that?), which used to deliver pizzas to my frat house in the 1970s ($3, half a buck for toppings). Need to budget more time when I come here so I can take advantage of the great restaurants in town.

First impressions, in brief: pretty good, certainly a splendid cast. I'm not the huge fan of this show that many others are, but it definitely has its moments. And Liz Larsen most definitely delivers a show-stopper, staggering through "I'm Breaking Down" like Anna Nicole at an awards show. Strategically off-key, waving a rolling pin and wearing a colander on her head, she brought the house to its feet midway through the first act.

Unfortunately, the timing of her triumph illustrates the show's problem with pacing, peaking less than an hour into a show that lasts two-plus hours. Writer William Finn covers a lot of ground, conventional comedy, satire, poignant romantic drama from the heterosexual, homosexual, gay, lesbian and pubescent perspective, and wraps it up with a jolt of mortality and serious social commentary, all done to music, music, music and more music.

It's a bit too much for one show and, not surprisingly, the pieces don't always mix. Fortunately, there are a lot of individual pieces, including Larsen's tour de force and the ridiculous "March of the Falsettos" (must be seen to be believed, and take a bow, costume designer Amela Baksic), that are enormously entertaining on their own.

I expect my formal review will publish Wednesday or Thursday in the Courier News (just buy it both days, OK?) and Friday in the Daily Record.

Sidebar:
Being in New Brunswick at the end of a week where Rutgers University was front-page news 24/7, seeing a show such as "Falsettos" also adds to the ongoing debate about the demise of Imus and the larger argument about who can say what to whom and in what context or media. Certainly, "Falsettos" is tamer than many farces and satires, but also certainly, it's loaded with Jewish jokes, gay jokes and, for what it's worth, casts aspersions on the psychiatry profession. I'm sure there are some people out there who would take offense at some of the lines in this show.

I guess it all comes down to two powerful forces: context and the fickle voice of our beloved democracy. Howard Stern talks smack so often people got tired of complaining, so they don't anymore. Playwrights sometimes get away with outrageous and inappropriate dialogue because they put it in the mouth of a fictional character, even though the words are often there for the same reason Stern and Imus use them: People like to be shocked.

Rappers get away with it because, it would seem, their record sales and popularity serve as some sort of mandate, and they are just "telling it like it is in the street." Of course, in this admittedly rare context, it pays not to be an old white man. Or so it would seem, eh, Imus?

And never make your mistakes during a slow news cycle. Nature, the media and the hungry public they serve all abhor a vaccum.

But here's the thing: haven't we learned from history that selective justice erodes a civilization and its ability to progress? Will we ever learn to just respect each other, forgive our occasional mistakes and participate in some sort of mutual growth, to the end that those occasional lapses don't progress into patterns of behavior?

Alright, enough of the soapbox. Your turn now. Where's the line, people?

Non-sequitur
While we're talking about lines, here's one that has always bothered me: Where's the line that separates grave robbers from archaeologists? How old does your grave have to be before its fair game for scientists?

I'll tell you one thing, it's a powerful argument for cremation. I wonder if George Bush has ever considered that 3,000 years from now, they might dig up his grave and put it on tour. I'll bet King Tut never saw that coming. Poor schmuck.

Gotta stop watching the History Channel. Keeps me up nights.