The Sweetie and I saw Young Frankenstein at the Paramount the other night. First, I’ll talk about the show, and if you’re interested, you can read on about the crazies we ran into before and during the show.
They’ve made Mel Brooks’ Young Frankenstein into a musical, and they’re opening it in Seattle. Presumably it will move to Broadway in the Fall. Of course, we all know and love this movie, and we all know and love The Producers (both the movie and the musical), so we had high hopes, and we weren’t disappointed. The Broadway cast is opening in Seattle, and that’s the primary reason we went. Megan Mullally is playing the Madeleine Kahn Role, Roger Bart is playing the Gene Wilder Role, and Sutton Foster is playing the Teri Garr role, and Andrea Martin is playing Frau Blűcher (insert horse whinnying here).
The show was long, but fabulous. They’ve done some amazing things with scenery, costumes, and of course music and stage direction. Megan and Sutton are amazing singers, and Roger Bart does a better job of capturing Gene Wilder’s anxiety and pompousness than Matthew Broderick did. Andrea Martin has taken Cloris Leachman’s scary Frau and warmed her up a bit, because she has opportunity to do so through song. At the end of the day, like in the Producers, these stage actors are essentially capturing a previous movie performance and making it their own. For instance, Nathan Lane has made at least part of his career by paying homage to Zero Mostel. Upshot: if you’re in Seattle, GO SEE THIS SHOW.
^The ranting begins here…
OK, now, as to the people we ran into. First, we went to Von’s for dinner, and we initially sat at a table in the bar that only had one side, so we were both scrunched together on one side. Then, the couple next to us left, and graciously offered us their seats, so we moved over. Then, another couple came and sat at the table where we had been. A few minutes later, a new table opened up, so I turned to the couple next to me, and pointed at the open table. Well, the guy looked at me like I had 3 heads – he had no idea what I was doing, so I said “this table has opened up.” He, frightened, said “um, no, uh, we’re OK.” Then, they were joined by a friend, who had to bring a chair over, and sit on the only open side of the table, and in doing so, was mostly blocking my path out. When said girl knocked into my husband getting into her seat, I said, in a joking manner “are you sure you don’t want to sit at the grown up table?” and the other girl looked as if I had shit on her plate, and just said, to her companions <<sniff>> “that’s TWO times,” as if my daring to speak to them was just unconscionable.
On to the theater…
We had GREAT seats, really. Almost dead center, but quite a few rows back in the orchestra. Shortly before the show was to start, a woman with a hat sat in front of me. Now, this was not a yarmulke, nor was it a bandana, nor a woolen cap, no. This was a HAT WITH A BRIM. JEEZUS FUCKING CHRIST LADY!!! So, a few minutes before the show was to start I tapped her on the shoulder, and said, politely, “I don’t suppose there’s a chance you might remove that hat, is there?” Crazy Hat Lady “No, there’s not.” Now, I understand when you have a condition or an affliction or a religious conviction, really I do… but in those cases, can you wear a modest head covering – one without, say, A FUCKING BRIM??
So, my Sweetie offers to switch seats with me, and I take him up on the offer. Boy, was that a mistake. The guy on the other side was clearly on some sort of substance one does not find in the frozen food section. He was fidgeting quite unlike anything I’ve ever seen – he was up, he was down, he had his legs on the seat, he had his head down, he was twisting his back, he was grunting….and, when he moved his legs, in a certain way, um DID HE STINK. You know that smell of someone who hasn’t showered in a few days, smokes, and clearly has no method of cleaning his underwear? Yeah, that was the smell.
So, at intermission, I switched back to sitting behind Crazy Hat Lady, and Phil just turned towards me to avoid smelling Stinky Fidgety Dude. Now, at intermission, I turned to Stinky Fidgety Dude, and I said ‘are you having trouble sitting still, cause it’s really distracting?” so, during the second half, the stink was the main problem, and the Sweetie is better at dealing with stink than I am, because, well, he’s a guy.
Here’s what I wanted to say, but didn’t, so let me proceed to say it here:
“Um, this is America, so in the comfort of our own homes, we are permitted to be crazy, but, when you come out in public, you need to tone down your crazy so that you don’t interfere with the rights of others. We, too, paid for these seats, and we deserve to see the show and do it without unnecessary distraction. In the future, please leave your crazy at home, or even better, just stay home. Thank you.”
Phew, I feel better now.