Dancing Velociraptors, Cursing Mennonites, and Light Sabers

Sometimes being a whore really pays off.

Oh and speaking of whoring, excuse me while I pimp myself out further and encourage you to visit my post over at Craftastrophe.  I seem to have a gift for finding creepy dolls.

Back to the whore at hand…oh wait…that’s still me.  I’d been going through a bit of a dry spell on the free ticket front.  Sadly, that’s probably a good thing since my allegedly part time gig is currently sucking up over forty hours a week.  (Seriously people, I think I’ve proven time and time again that I love Rocco for who he is.  NOW is the time for him to admit he’s heir to the throne of a small but incredibly wealthy country somewhere in the Caribbean.)

Then, all at once, I rolled a Yahtzee on Broadway hookups.  Yesterday, a matinee of Enron then a evening show of Everyday Rapture.  Later today?  I’m sneaking into Broadway Cares’ Easter Bonnet Competition.  Seriously people, you’re just encouraging me to whore myself out even more.  I wonder if the new bras have anything to do with the sudden rush of ticket hookups…

First, let me tell you about Enron.  Having not read anything about the show, I was expecting “Enron: The Musical.”  Instead what I saw was “Enron: A Mostly Straight Play with Occasional Music, Velociraptors, and a Really Strange Light Saber Dance Number.”  Henceforth I will forever think of it as “Two Hours and Forty Minutes of What the FUCK Was That?”

I have never, EVER ducked out of a theater before a curtain call…until yesterday.  I’m not proud of it, but I’m one hundred and eleventy percent sure it was the right decision.  Well, the right decision for me at least.  This morning I bothered to read up a bit on the production only to find out it got rave reviews in London.

(Note to self: the Brits must really love giant cartoon mouse heads on top of normal, suit wearing bodies.  Further note to self: remember you love the Brits, El.  Don’t judge them too harshly just because they loved this show.  It’s not like they gave the world Rod Stewart or anything.  *AHEM*)

At one point, I turned to my date and said, “Yeah, aren’t you glad you braved the pouring rain to see this?”

Her response?  “Yes actually, because if you had tried to describe it to me I would have never believed you.”

Look, I love theater.  I don’t want to say anything super harsh here.  I’d rather not harp on how weird it was to have Marin Mazzie, clad in red spandex, riding onto the stage atop a cluster of suit-clad dancers with a spotlight wedged in her crotch to mimic a motorcycle while “Taking Care of Business” blared through the speakers.  I’d prefer to gloss over the lengthy and pointless musical numbers all together, frankly.  I’ll just keep it short and stick with the positives.  Um…it was in a really pretty theater.

Photo Snatched from NYTimes

Fortunately Everyday Rapture, Sherie Rene Scott‘s almost one woman show, was a joy.  “A young woman’s psycho-sexual-spiritual journey on the rocky path that separates her mostly Mennonite past from her mostly Manhattan future.”  My two word review – Fuck Yeah.

Mrs. Scott recreates her childhood as a half Mennonite in Topeka (“the Kickapoo word for good place to dig for potatoes”) through anecdotal stories and pop songs…and the occasional expletive.  It would seem her parents weren’t overly committed to the Mennonite lifestyle.  “‘Raise your own fucking barn,’ my father would always say.”  But still, that environment left her “torn between two lovers: Jesus and Judy.”  She describes her inner struggle poignantly.  “I think I was searching, searching, searching for a way to be one with God while a lot of other people clapped.”

That internal struggle also caused her to develop a surprisingly intense…let’s call it affection…for Mr. Rogers.  I will never be able to look at my cardigan clad TV neighbor the same way again.  Who knew those puppets had it so good.  Yowza.

Being the music junkie that I am, I couldn’t help but get a tiny bit misty when she said, “Any song you live inside is a kind of hymn.”  Sing it, sistah.  Now THAT is a religion I could get behind.  So long as we don’t call it a religion.  Or have to give up Sunday mornings.  Or my drinking habits.  Or stop cursing.  That’s just fucking crazy talk.

The moral of the story?  If you’re faced with a choice between “Everyday Rapture” and “Two Hours and Forty Minutes of What the Fuck,” I suggest you chose the former.


  1. I have seen enough bad avant garde theater to last a lifetime. Yet, I have never seen a velociraptor dance number.

    That’s fucked up.

  2. Ah theater….like movies with a lower special effects budget. However, yelling at the stage produces more of a reaction than yelling at the screen. Just saying.
    And it is sad…raptors and light sabers but it still sucked?
    .-= mepsipax´s last blog ..Fuck you breeders =-.

    1. It even had jazz hands! I’m pretty sure I never said it sucked. The theater was beautiful. Also, the bathroom attendant was really friendly.

  3. whew, thank goodness I stopped in here to read your reviews before… wait, the last time I was on Broadway it was for CATS.. or Starlight Express… the memory is fading.
    .-= Ry Sal´s last blog ..Ruler of The Universe =-.

  4. i had to leave les miserables before i became one. what was that like 5 hours of whining. had to leave the resistable rise of arturo ui starring al pacino because i’ve never seen such laughable over-acting in my life. seriously we were laughing our asses off at some heavy shit. and had to leave the apple tree with broadway’s sweetheart kristen chenowith because it made me feel old. like i was watching something written in the 40s without any modern edge.

    i like your idea of religion! i’m down, girl. amen to music and the hymns in our heads.
    .-= pattypunker´s last blog ..flogging patty =-.

    1. Oh man I LOVE Les Mis. LOVE! I know. I just lost all my cool points. Also, calling them “cool points” probably set me back a few. I should probably stop talking.

  5. Sorry it’s taken me so long to pop over here.

    I think we should start a religion with Mr. Rogers as the figurehead. The men would wear cardigans and the women would wear twin sets. When you think about it, Mr. Rogers was probably the first hipster.
    .-= Dingo´s last blog ..Like A Rock =-.

  6. Bug,

    Velociraptors, Cursing Mennonites and Light Sabres plus alcohol that right there is a party. I am scared to click over to catastrophe and see freaky dolls. Did I tell you about how the E (see I can’t even say it) frightened the shit out of me. I had to believe in the unicorn again.


  7. oh good. i’m going to rapture opening on thursday. apparently, ajs worked on it a 2ST and so gets tickets. that’s 2 openings in 2 weeks for me… THE GLAMOUR!!!

    1. Jealous! If you meet her at the after party, can you please give her my resume and inform her I’d like to be considered for the role of her new bestie? I need a plan b in case NPH passes on my services.

  8. What the fuck is up with those dolls? Those are even creepier than the other dolls. (Which I think the kids are getting me one of for Mother’s Day! SCORE!) No, seriously, I think I went to high school with those twins.

    I fell asleep during a play once. In my defense, it was really hot in the tiny theatre and I’d had a lot of wine. I think walking out is probably better than snoring through. Just saying…


    PS~ I totally tried to work a “that stripper is off her pole!” into this comment, but it didn’t work out for me.
    .-= Spot´s last blog ..The one where Sean doesn’t have an eye tumor but I have crunchy knees… =-.

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