I rarely (as in never) review TV or movies or plays here, because
there are plenty of people who know more about those, are better at
writing about those, and whose entire living is based on combining the
two. So I stay out of it.

That all said, I’m still in New York, and have been treated to the current production of Sweeney Todd, now playing at the Eugene O’Neill Theater.  It’s fantastic. 
Not just for the Sondheim and the great acting and the incredible
voices, and not just for the magnificent staging in which the cast
doubles as both orchestra and stage crew throughout, dazzling the
audience with multiple displays of dexterity and bravado all at once.  

It’s also fantastic for the sheer volume of saliva.

Mind you, it’s normal for actors to spew a little while they’re talking and singing.  In fact, if there’s not some spit flying about, they’re probably not doing their jobs right, pushing every word and note to the back row.

Unfortunately, I was not in the back row.  I was in the front row. 

And this production, I must say, projects more than just text and music into the audience.  This Sweeney Todd lets the audience truly feel the performers’ emotions.  Specifically in the form of tens of thousands of tiny droplets.  And the occasional splurt.

Patti
LuPone has an amazing voice.  I am in awe, honestly.  So does every
supporting player in the cast.  But Michael Cerveris, in the title
role, gives us even more.  He gives us the warmth of a wounded soul,
hidden beneath the fury of a brutal killer.  He gives us a spectacular
dynamic and emotional range.  And he gives us towering eight-foot
plumes of saliva, seemingly endless fountains of sputum leaping high
into the spotlights before cascading two and three rows into the
audience, a vertitable one-man Vegas Bellaggio water show guaranteed to
raise not just your heart but your hands in response.

It was like
watching Gallagher doing Sondheim, if the watermelon was in his throat
and got smashed every time he said the letter “B.”  (Given that he’s a barber in a bakery who butchers a beadle… oh, god.)

You will laugh.  You will cry.  You will be wiping your eyes.  But not from the crying.

You’d
think, watching a show about the slashing of throats, that the literal
buckets of blood would be the main reason to go “eeeeeeww.” 
Surprisingly, no.

Don’t get me wrong.  The show is amazing.  But by the end
of the first act, people around me were silently squirming and
recoiling, as if to minimize their surface areas, every time Cerveris
came near the edge of the stage.  After two hours, once I was finally
resigned to becoming one with the finest saliva-borne pathogens
Broadway can offer, my amazement actually began shifting away from
Cerveris’ brilliance, and onto a single odd thought: How is this man not getting dehydrated?

In the sold-out performance I saw, the entire audience stood as one at the end,
thanking the cast with a hearty standing ovation that lasted for
several full minutes.  The show is so good, in fact, that I was surprised that all 1075 of us or so weren’t spitting back on the stage in unison, just to show our appreciation.

So.  Go see Sweeney Todd if you can.  This Michael Cerveris guy is phenomenal.  I recommend seeing anything he is in, ever, for life.

But sit in the back.  Bring a towel, just in case.  And goggles.  Definitely goggles.

Possibly the best news I’ve read all year: a new study has uncovered (a) that the H5N1 avian flu can’t easily penetrate the human upper respiratory tract, and (b) precisely why.  So yes, bird flu could still mutate into a human-to-human form and kill a whole bunch of us, but scientists are getting a handle on what mutations to look for and how the damn thing works.  And in the meantime, just keep your alveoli covered, and you should be fine.*

The bad news: the environment may not be about to kill us, but we certainly seem to be about to kill it.  Global warming is going to be worse than we thought.  So don’t go buying any coastal real estate.  By the time our great-grandkids are hyperblogging (or whatever the hell), goodbye London, goodbye New York, goodbye many of the world’s greatest cities.  If you live in Miami, you have a few decades, but let’s just say I wouldn’t go betting on the Dolphins to win the 2105 Super Bowl.

*The word “Alveoli,” incidentally, plays a big part in one bit of the upcoming book.  So everything connects.

In NYC for a few days, meeting with agent, editor, publishing and publicity people, etc.  Exciting.  Trying to see friends where I can, but most of the time here was accounted for before I got on the plane, so if you’re in NY and you didn’t hear from me, my apologies.

Have not been sleeping enough and have been waking up exhausted, so this week I’m reposting a pic from the SD wild animal park, where three pudus have just been awakened and chased from their enclosure at the crack of 10 am by a keeper who startled them into budging by dragging a rake on the ground.  “Rise and shine, kids!” she said cheerfully.  “Time to be pudus outside.”

So out they all came, tumbling over her feet, a little confused and bleary-eyed and stumbling around.

Most mornings I could use a keeper with a rake myself.

Just spent a fine hour reminiscing with Jon about our dear alma mater, Stutts University.

I
remember thinking I might spend my entire sophomore year wandering the
hallowed halls (and hollowed walls) of beloved Harriman.  Fortunately, it was only a week,
and thanks to a small vent in what I later learned was the south wall,
there was a supply of fresh air.

It’s not on my resume anymore,
but at one point I was head mimeographer for Look Out, the campus
juggling journal, in the years before we realized our limitations and
became the Dropping Things from a Great Height Society.  How I miss
those days.  We made some fabulous loud noises.

Unfortunately, one of our old schoolmates has just written a bitter diatribe against beloved Stutt.

Under no circumstances should you click that link.  None.

60 Minutes last night.  Bush muzzling scientists when the science contradicts his worldview. (The link also leads to the video if you missed it.  Worth a look.)

Not much different from the handling of pre-war intelligence, incidentally.

On a related note, good thoughts to the folks in Queensland who just got Katrinaed.  I don’t know anybody there myself, but we’ve got enough Aussie readers that somebody might have family.  My best wishes to you.