Given my present mood, did I need to see a tear jerking play tonight?
Not really.
Would I have missed Firehouse Theater's staged reading of "In My Father's Eyes"?
Not a chance.
The playwright was a heart surgeon (he has surgery scheduled tomorrow), the composer was David Friedman ("Beauty and the Beast," "Aladdin," and "Pocahontas") and the cast consisted of four people and a a narrator.
The story of a man who falls madly in love with an aspiring actress/singer/dancer who dies when her child is born flashed back and forth in time.
The dysfunctional relationship between father and daughter alternated with the epic love story of man and the woman he worshipped but never really knew.
And I wasn't the only one tearing up at various developments in the story.
At intermission, several people acknowledged how moving some of the relationships were (the painter and the widower? the dead wife's longing for a different life? both achingly sad).
The cast was uniformly strong (Scott Wichmann being a personal favorite) and because of the extensive staging, the audience got a lot of bang for their five dollar buck.
But then that seems to be the case with all of Firehouse's staged readings.
At the talkback afterwards, playwright John Anastasi told of working with Broadway composer Friedman.
Apparently the man could sit at the piano and come up with a melody in minutes.
"Do you like that?' he'd ask to Anastasi's enthusiastic yes. "Okay, what do you need in this part?"
He'd then create lyrics on the spot to fit the scene. That's talent with a capital "T."
Before the show, I had the good fortune to run into a friend and her group, making for satisfying theater talk and chef talk.
Plus it's not every day I meet Phyllis Richman's cousin.
That group left after the play but my friend and I decided to have a quick drink at Ballieaux.
When our bartender told us it was half priced wine by the bottle night, we were less concerned about quickness and decided to enjoy a little Provence pink for peanuts.
Our Mas de la Dame Rose kept us going through the talkative company that showed up.
And the soundtrack? Interpol, Killers and the like, all loud.
A music friend and I got off on talk of Ian Dury and Wye Oak.
A massage therapist joined us to share his input on healthy eating, cheap pasta and tooth repairs.
We were joined by the chef for the upcoming Mint in the Fan who waxed poetic about lamb innards, quality salt and creative panna cotta.
And music. Finally, a chef devoted to making the music heard in a restaurant as creative and interesting as the food.
Count me in.
Good company, spirited conversation and girl talk make a person forget all about the sad relationships that began the evening.
Besides, in my father's eyes, I'm golden. He told me so earlier today.
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Thanks for coming! - "the painter"
ReplyDeleteWell done! Your performance was stellar and I wasn't the only one who thought so. I heard someone ask the Artistic Director what else you had been in.
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