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Time Out
4 days ago
- Entertainment
- Time Out
Smash star Brooks Ashmanskas on audiences, reviews and playing gay men
Brooks Ashmanskas has been doing his thing so well for so long that it's easy to take him for granted. In a Broadway career that has spanned nearly 30 years and included 16 shows, he has been one of the Great White Way's most valuable musical-comedy players, with a speciality in playing flamboyant gay men. Nobody does it better, and this past season found him lending his talents to two different productions: a revival of the fairy-tale musical Once Upon a Mattress, in which he played the scheming court wizard, and the new backstage tuner Smash, in which he stars as the stressed-out director of a struggling Marilyn Monroe biomusical called Bombshell. Smash has earned him a Tony nomination (his third) in the category of Best Featured Actor in a Musical, but his character, Nigel, is many ways the show's central role. That in itself is remarkable, especially on the heels of his leading performance in 2018's The Prom as Barry Glickman, a vain actor on a misguided mission to enlighten midwestern homophobes. The kind of person Ashmanskas has mastered playing—a gay man who is highly theatrical but not a drag queen—has long been relegated to the margins; it is a sign of changing times, but also of Ashmankas's prodigious skills, that this type can now be trusted to hold center stage. The actor deserves more credit for that than he has received (or than, ever self-effacing, he would probably accept): It is partly thanks to the strength and the brilliant colors that he brings to it, and has brought to it for decades, that the once-humble pansy has come to full flower on Broadway. We chatted with him recently about Smash and other highlights of his career. In advance of the Tony Awards on June 8, Time Out has conducted in-depth interviews with select nominees. We'll be rolling out those interviews every day this week; the full collection to date is here. How did you get involved in Smash? The writers contacted me, so it was simple; I just answered a phone call and said, 'Yeah, of course!' I had worked with Bob Martin before, and I had known Rick Elice for years, and I love both of them, so it was an easy yes. This was right when the pandemic was opening up a little bit, and they had written this musical version of Smash. There was no director yet—it was just to see what they had, basically, for the producers and people like that. It was maybe two days: We got together one day and then read it for them the next day. Basically, they handed it to me—which was foolish, I thought, but even more foolish was that they stayed with me over the years as we developed the project to where it is now. You match the role so perfectly, though. It feels like it was written for you. I think maybe it became that way. I really don't know if they were thinking that initially. But once I was doing it, you could tell—in the rewrites that would come, and the things that we would collaborate on—that they were very open throughout the process. Even when [director Susan] Stroman and the rest of the creative team joined in, they were all so great about it. They weren't very precious about anything; we just all wanted to make the best, most entertaining show possible. So if I came up with something in a rehearsal and it worked, we would keep it in. I've been thinking a lot lately about an underexplored phenomenon in musical theater: the degree to which the original cast can stamp itself in the DNA of a piece that's being developed—how the piece eventually gets frozen and the role ends up reflecting the strengths and style of whoever played it originally. I think it depends on the writers and the other people in charge. It's not even about them being too limiting; it's just how they're running the show. If they're really trying to honor what the writer's initial intentions were, and sticking to what they wrote as the Bible—and that's not necessarily a bad thing—it would be less so, other than just putting their words through your own filter. To some degree it's always going to be you as well. But with most of the things I've worked on, and certainly new work, it has been a relatively, if not wildly, collaborative effort. It has to be: It's such a collaborative medium. There are so many things that have to come together and hopefully it's on the same page. And you have a certain persona as an actor—in the roles you tend to play and the way that you tend to play them. When you have a strong personal style, maybe that has the potential to make a stronger stylistic impression on the piece. Yeah, but especially on Broadway, because there's so much money at stake, a lot of that depends on what you're allowed to do or what you're asked to do. Not that I'm like, 'Oh, I have a lot of range'—Who cares? Everyone does. But if I'm not doing a Broadway show, which I'm often not, I go work somewhere else, and if you look at the stuff I've done regionally, it's a much more rangy situation. I'm not always asked to be the silly and perhaps effeminate comic. But that's what I'm asked to do on Broadway, and why would anyone say no to doing a Broadway show? I've been very pleased and very fortunate to be able to do it. And to do it a lot! You did two musicals this year on Broadway, which is very rare. Insane. It never works out that way, but this time it did. It was just timing. It was great. Because after The Prom was the pandemic, and I wasn't lucky enough to be on Broadway for quite a while. Which is five years ago, almost six now. Which is crazy. In fairness, though, for a lot of that time Broadway wasn't happening at all. Right, exactly. It couldn't go on without me. [ Laughs.] The musical version of Smash is so different from the TV show—it's much closer to 42nd Street now, with Nigel as a gay Julian Marsh. Your character in The Prom, Barry, was another theater queen of a roughly similar type. To you, what distinguishes them from each other? That certainly crossed my mind even when we were first reading Smash —and one of the writers also wrote The Prom, so of course the similarities are there. But there's something about Nigel in Smash that's much darker than Barry was. Barry was just a big-hearted, loving guy who happened to be gay and funny, hopefully, but Nigel is a much more troubled character, and he is certainly troubled by what happens to him and his production throughout the piece. That's what I tried to glom onto: the put-upon-ness of the character in the situations he has found himself in, and how he goes about using the tools he has, which are usually his sense of humor. He also seems so much more competent than Barry. I think so, definitely. Dee Dee, Beth Leavel's character in The Prom, was a two-time Tony winner, and she carried Barry with her. And he had a Drama Desk that was kind of half broken. Even though he was a successful actor, he was not as successful. Whereas Nigel is Casey Nicholaw or Susan Stroman—he's someone who has worked a lot as a big-time director of Broadway musicals. And in The Prom, Barry creates his own mess, but Nigel is the only one working on Bombshell who has a real possibility of fixing it in some way. Exactly. And it turns out that he's right. He's saying, Let's make this bright and celebratory. We can't go too deep with this show. We can't go down the road of having her die at the end and all that dark stuff. Ironically, that's part of the challenge of making Smash into a musical at all, out of the existing material. The songs are great, but they're also partly tongue-in-cheek so it's hard to imagine the musical-within-a-musical that they come together to create. It's a delicate road. Like, are we to believe that this actress can do 18 numbers? But tone-wise, I think the way in which the songs are presented—only in rehearsal or in a performance situation, until the very end—keeps the show about the process. It's not really about Bombshell. It's about these people trying to put on a show. It's 42nd Street. It's The Bandwagon. One thing that's striking for me about your roles in both The Prom and Smash is that characters like them have been around for generations, but previously as decidedly supporting characters—the nellie, the nance. But in these two shows, they're the central characters. Yes! Very much so, and I think that's a good thing. I would even go further to say that—mostly because I'm the one who's played them—they're also not the leading man–looking type of person, either. I'm of a certain age, I have a certain type of physique. This is what I look like. And isn't that wonderful? [ Laughs.] But I think that's also something great about that. Some of the response I've gotten, during The Prom and even now this, from people my age or older who see a sort of representation—I never saw that coming. These older gay guys who are like, 'Oh my God, when I was growing up, if I had a Barry or a Nigel, to see that kind of representation and that kind of humor.' And I think that's a good thing. I do. Oh, I do too. These conversations so often get reduced to the question of whether characters are good role models or something, whether they're inspirational. And I think that's the wrong way to look at it. It's just that they're there, and they're human beings. The fact that they are not perfect is better. I agree, that's what representation is. And you see it reduced. There is not a conversation that does not get reduced now—everything is reduced to something without degrees, unfortunately I think. That's why I bring up how I look or how old I am as a leading character in a show. It's lovely in that it opens up degrees for viewing, conversation, response, whatever. Just the fact of it is significant. I think that's what I mean, too. The fact of it is good. Whether you hate it or love it, who cares? It's there. It's about the fact of it. You're giving one of my favorite performances of the year in this show. I'm also talking this week to Justina Machado, who's fantastic in Real Women Have Curves— And she's fabulous, too. Her fabulousness comes through. I love when that happens—it just all works. I'm bracketing these two performances together because they're a kind of masterful musical-comedy performance where everything is funny and the audience is so with you that you can take your time or go faster or whatever you want because you have full control of the room. Which is great. It's so important with comedy, because if you don't have control—if you're not conducting the orchestra of the audience—it's not going to work. They don't get to do it. And if they do, it's trouble. Again, I have to go to the writing: When you have a piece that's written in a way that makes you capable of orchestrating the room, it's a gift. It makes it more fun, and easier—even when it's hard, it's easier. It's a real gift, this kind of role. It doesn't come around often. How much does the audience response vary from performance to performance? I've been onstage a fair amount and that's still so mysterious to me. Yeah. If we knew how to figure that out, we'd follow that formula and there would be nothing but hits going on. I talk about it all the time, too much probably—backstage, even during the show. The short answer is that it's wildly different every show. You do a Wednesday, for instance, when probably it's a little older out there and a little quieter. And it's not that they're not enjoying it—they just don't want to let you know that. But then on Wednesday night, you're giving the same basic performance and they won't stop screaming with laughter. So I have to believe it is the molecular structure of the room. It can't just be them, and it can't just be me. It is just what is going on. And so there's no way to pre-prepare in a way, other than knowing what you're doing. And it's a surprise every moment. And you can't get too nervous or too in your head about what the response is, especially in comedy. That's something I admire so much in people who can be funny on stage, which is something that I usually can't do. People ask all the time, 'How do you do it eight times a week? How do you do a long run? Don't you want to put a gun in your mouth?' And of course, the answer is yes, sometimes. But the truth of it is, that's what keeps it interesting, or even keeps you awake during it. I can do it hundreds of times, but every single time I'm trying to figure it out: Like, I know that this line over here has to get a laugh. So if they're not where they need to be to get to that place, we gotta get 'em there! And that's what makes it interesting and athletic in a way, and tiring and tiresome, but also inspiring and fun. It's everything. And you're doing it within a quite regimented structure of existing writing and blocking. So you have limited tools. If you're doing a standup comedy, you can feel things out or chop things up as needed when you feel the energy moving. Yeah, it's limiting. But it also makes it all that more important to be open to having to do it a different way every single time. Which is hard and scary and vulnerable and all that stuff, but you have to be open to that or it's not gonna work. I just did an interview with Jessica Hecht — That bitch! [ Laughs.] I love Jessica so much. I've worked with her a number of times and it just brightens up my life every time I see her. She's a wildly unique individual. A totally free person on stage and in life, but she's also very careful. I mean that in a good way, not in a yucky way. She's full of care in what she's saying and what she's doing. I love it. Same! But anyhow, we went through some of her past Broadway experiences as I'd be curious to do that with you too, if you don't mind. Your first show was almost 30 years ago in the Matthew Broderick revival of How to Succeed, right? Yes, I replaced as Bud Frump. I didn't do it originally. But I felt a connection to it even when I was auditioning—and the director, Des McAnuff, really got what I did and supported it, which was lovely. That's not always the case, especially then, because nobody knew who I was to any degree. So that was very comforting. And Wayne Cilento, the choreographer—you'd never know it now, but when I was young, I was a dancer. Mostly tap, but I did a lot of dancing. And I think Wayne was surprised that this funny guy who was doing this role could do this dancing. I know he really pushed for me to get that part. It was hard, because it was quick. I was young and was a big part—the bad guy of that show in a way—and I only had five or six days to learn it, so it was scary. I can't even remember my opening night of that show. There was one section where I was all alone on stage in the lights, and I had an out-of-body experience—I didn't know what I was doing. But I did it. It was very exciting, and it was certainly a huge moment for me. Was Matthew still in it at that point? He had gone off to make a movie—I think it was The Cable Guy— so he had a break, and John Stamos replaced him. There was a week between John Stamos and Matthew coming back, and that's when I went in, at the same time as the woman who was going to play Rosemary, the female lead, who was a girl named Sarah Jessica Parker. This was before they got married. And so we had a week with the understudy, the wonderful John Bolton, and we rehearsed with Matthew a couple times during that week. And then we all did it together for the last six or seven months of the show. I would love to have seen the two of you do The Producers. I feel like that would've been an interesting mix. Wow, yeah. I love working with Matthew. I would drop everything to work with him. We've done a couple shows along the way, and I just adore him. I adore both of them. You did do The Producers eventually, but as Carmen Ghia. I did, and by that time, Matthew was out. It was years after it opened. I went in with Jonathan Freeman as Roger, who I also did How to Succeed with. Those were the only two times I replaced. I don't know if I'm always the best at that—I might be a little too individual sometimes, and that can be tricky, honestly, for people who have an existing show like The Producers, which was a huge smash. That machine was going. It's like Hamilton today: If you go into Hamilton, it's like, 'That bullet goes there,' you know? You have to fit in. I'm not sure I'm the best at that, but I did the best I could. There's a patch there— The Producers, Gypsy, Little Me —where you track seems to be a certain kind of snotty or ineffectual assistant. The second banana. As we were talking about earlier with Smash, that sort of put-upon quality is something I trained well for. Especially in Little Me, where every character I played, Martin Short was just screaming at me—'Rararararararararar'—and I'd just be like, 'Yes, father' or whatever. But then you got to do Martin Short: Fame Becomes Me. Yes. When we did Little Me, we became friendly very quickly, so Marty's show came about because of our relationship, and because we knew we worked well together. Marty's been a formidable person in my life—mostly as a friend, but he's also a parental, mentor-y kind of guy. He's very smart and wildly funny, obviously, and so sweet on stage, so generous. That really proved true on Fame Becomes Me. It was his show, but he let the rest of us who were in it shine. He needed that. He was very bright about that. And that show was a great, fun thing to do. And then came Bullets Over Broadway, which ended up a little bit of— —a miss. Not for everyone. My colleague David Cote, for example, liked it very much at the time. But it was hard to compete with a movie that was so memorable and successful. I agree. It had a lot going against it that maybe I didn't realize as we were going along. And I think people had a problem with the fact that there wasn't an original score. But I loved being a part of it. I loved that group of people and it was a great part. During the workshop and rehearsals and previews, it was like, 'This is a hit!' And then we opened and—bomb. You could tell by the audience response the day after we opened. It's the only time I've experienced that. I don't think that it was a bomb, but it closed very quickly. Sadly. I loved doing it—it was a really fun show to do. But it just didn't connect. I have a complex relationship to this issue, needless to say, but I know that negative reviews can sometimes take the wind out of a show's sails. For the audience, at least, if not for the performers. I'm a little weird about reviews. I really am able to take them with a grain of salt. Obviously, on a personal level, it's nice when someone says nice things and it's not so lovely when they loathe you. But you can't give—no offense—you can't give it that much power. When you see a show, that's your day, your opinion, your unique evening. These things can't be taken as the gospel, end-all truth. No offense taken! I totally agree. So I don't have a problem with reading reviews. It also depends on one's investment in the piece. The Prom is a great example. We worked on that for almost a decade before it barely got to Broadway, so I was curious—just as someone who spent so much time on it—how it was received. And I was very pleased overall that people liked it and got the heart of it. But it's mostly about curiosity, from my point of view. I get that. I read what people say about me on the rare occasions that people say things about me, and I often find that frustrating, because it always seems to get something wrong. I don't just mean I disagree, I mean it's factually wrong. Absolutely. Even a good review, Adam, is sometimes…I mean, if I'm gonna be fully honest, which I am, even some of the nice things that were said about me in this performance I'm giving now are not the nice things I want them to say. You know, it's lovely and it's terrific, but it's also, like, ' That's what it is to them?' That kind of feeling. One show that I really liked that you were in, and that I wish had had a longer run, is Shuffle Along. Yeah, me too. Just the best. The subject matter of the piece, how it was presented—I just thought it was gold. And the process couldn't have been more lovely. Everyone was so wonderful and I'd been fans or friends with all of them for years; I'm such a fan of George [C. Wolfe]'s work, and to be able to work with him on that was a highlight of my life. Not to mention being the sole white person in that show: The experience of that, of being the minority for a change, was invaluable. So yes, I'm sorry that it didn't run longer as well—deeply sorry, because that's one I would like to still be doing. But it was great, honestly, that it happened at all and that I was allowed to be a part of it. I'll take those couple of months. Sometimes there are just those heartbreakers. One of my first great disappointments as a critic—a show I really loved that didn't get the response it deserved—was another George C. Wolfe show, Caroline, or Change. Which to this day is one of my very favorite musicals. Absolutely. Me, too. So great. On a list of the great shows of your life, as an audience member, that would be one of, like, five shows. But the thing about Shuffle Along is that that was a once-in-a-lifetime staging. I can't imagine it being done in high schools or regional theaters. It would be way too expensive. It was that group of people—it could only be those people, and mostly George. So it closed on Broadway and that's it. And the thing that hurts even more about Shuffle Along not having a longer life is that it was all about trying to say, 'These people should be remembered, but nobody knows this show because they were Black.' And what the show was saying came true again, in a way. But on the bright side: Thousands of people did get to see it who wouldn't have seen it otherwise. Yes. It happened. It happened, and that's incredible. In a way, that any show can happen on Broadway is incredible. It's a victory.
Chicago Tribune
22-04-2025
- Entertainment
- Chicago Tribune
Lake Zurich High School Theatre staging the school edition of the hit Broadway musical 'The Prom'
This week is Lake Zurich High School's spring musical 'The Prom – School Edition' at the Lake Zurich Performing Arts Center (LZPAC) at the high school (300 Church St.) for three consecutive days through Saturday, starting at 7 p.m. on Thursday. Showings of the contemporary musical also take place at 7 p.m. on Friday, April 25, and Saturday, April 26, at 2 p.m. and 7 p.m. Ticket sales are at 'The Prom' is based on a book by Chad Beguelin and Bob Martin with lyrics by Chad Beguelin and music by Matthew Sklar. The original Broadway production was directed and choreographed by Casey Nicholaw and produced for Broadway by Bill Damaschke, Dori Berinstein, and Jack Lane. The story takes place in Indiana with themes of love, acceptance, and LGBTQ+ rights as a small town high school produces dual prom events (one secret) amid professional actor influences and social media pressure. Lessons are explored as opportunities for humanity to grow and learn, with love bridging gaps. Faculty member Tom Skobel directs the Lake Zurich High School interpretation. 'The lesson that the audience should take from 'The Prom' is that people should build a better world by showing acceptance and valuing everyone's unique identity,' Skobel said. Skobel appreciates the professional Broadway-grade stage and auditorium in Lake County. 'The facility helps with the fact we have a lot of fly space and can use that space along with traditional set pieces,' Skobel said. There have been protests to Midwest school productions of 'The Prom' but 'no pushback' in Lake Zurich, Skobel said, adding the musical was selected in July of 2024. 'I think we have a very supportive theatre community and very supportive Lake Zurich community so I'm really proud,' Skobel said. Anna DaValle of Lake Zurich plays Emma Nolan, a lead character, with Amanda Lagerlof-Perez of Lake Zurich, who plays Alyssa Greene, also a lead and Emma's romantic interest. Both high school students (Emma and Alyssa) want to attend prom as a couple for their first public date outside of secrecy. 'I'm truly honored to play this character as I relate to her on a personal level,' DaValle said. 'As someone who's a part of the LGBTQ community, I feel that sharing Emma's story is very important. 'It's a very nice feeling to know that there are others out there who understand how you feel, and I think that this musical captures that message wonderfully,' DaValle said. 'Through all the glitz and glamour of the show, I have hope that the audience can take away this message of acceptance and love the show as much as I do.' Lagerlof-Perez, whose pronouns are she/her, said, 'I do like girls in real life, I have a girlfriend who's also in the play so I can relate to (her character) Alyssa in that aspect.' About the potential for community objections or local protests, 'I think a lot of us were worried about that when the show was announced but everybody I've talked to has been really supportive and excited about the themes of the play,' Lagerlof-Perez said. 'I think we are really a supportive community,' Lagerlof-Perez said about Lake Zurich. 'It's a show worth seeing.' Playing a lead part of Trent Oliver, a struggling actor who was educated at a prestigious arts school, is Jack Rough of Hawthorn Woods. 'I am here to have a good time doing a show that I think is important with people I love,' Rough said. 'I think that Trent sometimes values what other people think of him over doing what is right. 'I don't think we are changing anyone's minds with this show, if someone is homophobic, they are still going to be homophobic after seeing 'The Prom.' 'However,' Rough said, 'I think it is a good reminder for people who do feel marginalized or alone that there is always joy and love in the world even amongst all the hate. 'There aren't that many shows that are this much fun and have a powerful message,' Rough added. ''The Prom' is entertaining, heartfelt, exciting and a story that so many of us, especially high schoolers, relate to,' Rough said. This is the first theatrical show for Aaron Conners of Lake Zurich to direct. Conners doubles as student director and as a cast member playing Kevin, a stereotypical bully who, 'gains a deeper understanding of others. 'It may sound cheesy but with everything going on in the world, people really just need to 'just breathe' and stop the hatred,' Conners said. Aarya Patel, stage manager of Hawthorn Woods, said, 'I think the themes portrayed in 'The Prom' are extremely important and being a part of a production that has the possibility to have a real impact on the audience is extremely meaningful to me. 'One of the major themes of this show is acceptance,' Patel said. 'My hope is that the audience is able to come into this show with an open mind and really allow themselves to connect with its characters and learn from their journey.' Eileen O'Leary of Lake Zurich, student choreographer and a cast member portraying Kaylee, said, 'My character comes to recognize and accept her mistakes and learn from them. 'I hope the audience realizes and takes away how important acceptance is in our community.'
New York Times
08-04-2025
- Entertainment
- New York Times
‘Boop! The Musical' Review: Betty Gets a Brand Extension
Some shows are 'what?' shows, leaving you baffled. Perhaps they involve roller-skating trains or shrouds of Turin. Others are 'how?' shows, as in: Dear God, how did that happen? But the most disappointing subgenre of musical, at least in terms of opportunity cost, is the 'why?' show: a well-crafted, charmingly performed, highly professional production that nobody asked for. Its intentions are foggy and sometimes suspicious. 'Boop! The Musical' — now playing at the Broadhurst Theater, in a production directed and choreographed by Jerry Mitchell — is a 'why?' show par excellence. And excellence it has. As Betty, the flapper of early talkie cartoons, Jasmine Amy Rogers is immensely likable. She sings fabulously, sports a credible perma-smile, nails all the Boop mannerisms and has a fetching way with a tossed-off line. I can't imagine anyone making more of the exhausting opportunity, let alone in a Broadway debut. She is ably supported by other young talent in featured roles, luxury-cast veterans doing their damnedest and a hard-working ensemble selling Mitchell's insistent, imaginative, precision-drilled dances. When his pinwheel kick-lines hop in unison, not one foot among 26 is left on the floor. Or make that 27, because Pudgy, Betty's pug, a marionette with a lolling pink tongue operated by the puppeteer Phillip Huber, sometimes shakes a leg too. And wait, there's more: David Foster's music, in a jazzy brass-and-reeds Cy Coleman vein, pops nicely; the lyrics, by Susan Birkenhead, are far better crafted than you dare hope these days. To the extent it is possible to enjoy the story's themes — the power of music, the way color comes into your life when you love — it is often because she encapsulates them so amusingly. I laughed out loud at her show-off rhyme of 'It girls' and 'spit curls.' But none of that explains or justifies the show's existence. Nor, despite enormous effort, can the book by Bob Martin. In building a case for a vintage piece of intellectual property — Betty was born as a half-dog in 1930 — Martin winds up replicating the kind of musical he roasted in 'The Drowsy Chaperone' (1998) and the delusional creatives he pierced in 'The Prom' (2016). That show's imaginary 'Eleanor! The Eleanor Roosevelt Musical,' is no less ludicrous than the real-life 'Boop! The Musical.' Granted, Broadway history has proved that ludicrousness is not in itself a deterrent to enjoyment. But laboriousness is, and it's only with the groaning of heavy machinery underneath it that 'Boop!' approaches the semblance of a lighthearted surface. The premise, though silly, is the least of it: Betty, a quasi-human cartoon in a black-and-white world, stars in animated Fleischer Studios shorts. (Max Fleischer created the character; the studio named for him made the movies.) Though reporters fawn over her as 'a singer, a dancer, an actress, a star beloved by millions,' she doesn't know who she really is. Yes, the musical rests on the identity crisis of a smudge of inked celluloid. A time-travel machine created by Grampy (Stephen DeRosa) provides the way out of the crisis, dumping Betty in current-day New York City. At the Javits Center during Comic Con, she adapts perhaps faster than we do to the bizarrely dressed and garishly colorful Oz-like new world. (Costumes by Gregg Barnes, lighting by Philip S. Rosenberg.) Also as in Oz, Betty acquires three companions: Trisha (Angelica Hale), a young Boop fanatic she meets at the convention; Dwayne (Ainsley Melham), a jazz musician who is maybe Trisha's cousin, but it's not very clear; and Carol (Anastacia McCleskey), a campaign manager who is maybe Dwayne's mother and definitely Trisha's guardian. Because wouldn't you know it, Trisha, like yet another piece of ancient IP, is an orphan. And then there's Valentina, an astrophysicist who, 40 years earlier, hooked up with Grampy when he visited the real world. The best thing to say about her is that she's played by Faith Prince, looking game, if understandably confused. In any case, Grampy and Valentina reunite when he returns to the real world to reclaim Betty, without whom the black-and-white world at home is fading. But will she go back with him, now that, with the help of her new friends, she is involved in a mayoral election, a sanitation scandal and a feminist quest to take charge of her identity? I wish the show had taken charge of its identity too. Instead, one feels at all times the heavy hooves of a marketing imperative. The brand discipline is punishing; in David Rockwell's scenic design, even the proscenium has spit curls. And poor Trisha, hasn't she lived through enough without being turned into a brand ambassador? 'Betty Boop has been famous everywhere for like a hundred years!' she says, as one does. 'Betty Boop is strong and smart and confident and capable.' She even gets a song, called 'Portrait of Betty,' that hymns Boop's praises as if she were, well, Eleanor Roosevelt: 'She is not afraid to fight / For all the people who cannot defend themselves.' In short, as a typically well turned Birkenhead lyric puts it: 'She has spunk, she has spine, she's a saint, bottom line.' And there it is. The bottom line. Betty Boop, if not the earliest cartoons she appears in, is still under copyright protection. No doubt the Fleischer heirs, with one eye on 'Barbie,' would like to exploit their biggest star before she goes bust. Fair enough; who wouldn't? But a merch grab — in the lobby a plushie Pudgy goes for $35 — is not the same as a musical. The answer to 'why?' should not come from mere marketeers.
Yahoo
05-03-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
Steve Carell's Heartwarming Gift to Pasadena Seniors
One's high school prom is the stuff of which memories–and famous scenes in movies and TV series a la Pretty in Pink, Grease and Netflix's The Prom–are made. But for the graduating senior year class at John Muir High School in Pasadena, those dreams of fancy dresses, tuxedo cummerbunds and corsages are coming on the heels of the devastating Eaton Fire, a blaze that destroyed the homes of 200 John Muir students and left many wondering how they were going to rebuild–and where. For many of these kids, including those from Altadena, a town decimated by the fire, buying prom tickets ($200 a pop) is a teenage luxury they just can't afford. Enter Oscar-nominated actor and comedian Steve Carell. Carell, whose landmark performances in such modern-day classics as The Office, Foxcatcher and Little Miss Sunshine have left an indelible imprint on global pop culture, has swept in and saved the day at John Muir High. Through the Virginia-based philanthropic organization Alice's Kids, Carell will foot the cost of prom for not only the seniors at John Muir, but all six high schools within the Pasadena Unified School District, six of which were either severely damaged or the interest of full disclosure, my son, Boaz, is a graduating senior at John Muir. His favorite Carell film is The 40-Year-Old Virgin, which he just happened to be re-watching this weekend, reciting his favorite lines while tossing a football around the house. When Boaz's entire class was ushered into the school auditorium to watch a video that Carell had recorded announcing that he was treating the entire class–and school district–to prom night, he texted me straight away: 'Steve Carell paid for prom tickets for everybody.' 'Attention, all seniors,' said Carell. 'This is Steve Carell with a very special announcement. I work with a wonderful charity based out of Virginia called Alice's Kids. And Alice's Kids wanted me to let you know that they will be paying for all of your prom tickets. And if you have already paid for your prom tickets, they will reimburse you for your prom tickets. It's a pretty good deal. Have fun. Enjoy the prom. And remember, this is Steve Carell. Take it easy guys.' Now, I'm not exactly a rah-rah-rah sort of girl, and I attended my senior prom at my suburban Boston high school more to preemptively avoid later-in-life remorse than anything else. My hair made me look like a poodle fresh from the groomer and my white pouf dress and ballet flats recalled, well, a teenager with zero fashion sense struggling to survive the grunge-forward 90s. But I'm still glad I went, if only to reflect on analog photos with a wave of self-deprecating now, there are hundreds of kids at John Muir High who've suffered far worse fates than regrettable sartorial choices these past few months–losing not only their homes and beloved friends and family members that have been forced to move far away, but a sense of consistency and safety. Carell's magnanimous gesture is not only making prom possible for so many of these students, but returning to them something else lost in the fire: optimism and faith. "I just really want to thank Alice's Kids for doing this for our seniors," says John Muir High School Principal Dr. Lawton Gray III. "I can't express how much it is appreciated, especially during this time of need for our community, that this group would step up for our students. And we're just so grateful. The students are grateful, the parents are grateful. We're just so excited for this opportunity."
