For those susceptible to the romantic allure of attending the last
performance of a Broadway show, January will be one for the history books. The
annual post-holiday doldrums in the theater district are proving particularly
doleful in 2009, as more than a dozen plays and musicals — almost half of the
current lineup, incredible though it may seem — get ready to close by the end of
the month.
Harvey
Fierstein, who has returned to the cast of “Hairspray,” will saunter forth
from a giant, glitter-bedecked aerosol can and rasp his last girlish rasp on
Sunday afternoon. Patti
LuPone will tear into the worn soul of Mama Rose for the last time on
Broadway a week later. And the questing kids from “Spring Awakening” will sing
their last moody hymn to the wondrous ache of self-discovery a week after that.
And that’s just the tip of the iceberg of misfortune upending many a once
smooth-sailing ship on the Great White Way.
In the interest of accentuating the positive as we embark on an unusually
tension-inducing new year, why not focus on a single ray of sweetness amid the
gloom: For those who love the theater, this month will be a bonanza of emotional
farewells and festive goodbyes in front of adoring audiences.
It is worth underscoring that point. Theatergoers who go out of their way to
take in the last gasp of a Broadway show are not jackals reveling in ill
fortune. You would have to be perversely malicious to plunk down more than $100
a ticket just for the pleasure of watching a production you didn’t like bite the
dust. No, the audiences flocking to final performances are often friends and
family involved with the cast and creative team, along with rabid fans who have
seen the show at least once, in some cases dozens of times. I know one
determined fellow who saw “Xanadu” more than 25 times.
I am sorry I wasn’t able to bid adieu to that dizzy delight myself — after
seeing it a mere twice — when it closed over the summer. The final days of cult
favorites can be particularly exhilarating. The last week of performances at the
quirky little musical “[title of show]” were reportedly tearful, laughter-filled
public love-ins. The obsessed fans who watched this self-consciously
self-confident little gem of a show make the long trek from living-room high
jinks to a Broadway run came out in droves to cheer it on, like friends and
relatives gathering to watch a loved one finish that first marathon.
Live theater has a built-in bittersweetness born of its ephemeral nature. The
magic is here and now, and then it’s gone forever — or at least until the next
revival. (And remember, enthusiasm for a revival is often met with a
cluck-clucking sound and an indulgent smile from those who were around for the
first production.) That’s why being present at the moment when a work of
achieved art passes into history can be inordinately moving, a reminder that
beauty itself is mostly an evanescent thing in life.
But it’s almost always thrilling, too, because the energy level at a final
performance is usually roof-raising. Long runs can be wearying to actors — even
those who consume only sensible amounts of sushi, unlike that unfortunate,
mercury-riddled Jeremy
Piven — but the valedictory atmosphere of a show’s last weeks brings out the
best in most. (In case you haven’t been up on your theater-world gossip, Mr.
Piven recently exited the Broadway revival of “Speed-the-Plow” after a doctor
said he had mercury poisoning.)
Sometimes the original stars of acclaimed productions, who have long since
moved on to other things, return to close out the run, as both Mr. Fierstein and
his co-star Marissa Jaret Winokur — Tony
winners both — have done at “Hairspray.” Before I lived here, I recall
making a special trip to New York to catch Stockard
Channing’s indelible turn in John
Guare’s “Six Degrees of Separation” after she rejoined the play in its final
months. (I had previously seen Kelly Bishop — quite marvelous, too — in the
role.)
Among the more extraordinary last performances I’ve caught was the final
afternoon at August
Wilson’s underappreciated “Gem of the Ocean,” at which the blazing intensity
of the acting seemed to catch the entire audience up in its inspiring spell. As
I left I overheard Halle
Berry express condolences over its closing to the director in a tone of
wondering mystery that such a thing could come to pass.
It always comes to pass, of course, for hit and flop alike, just not usually
in the collective numbers we’re seeing this month. (Not all the closings can be
chalked up exclusively to the gloomy economy; some were limited runs, and some
are long-running hits that were approaching their ends anyway.)
The sad superabundance of farewells to choose from obviously places limits on
the number of last goodbyes theater lovers will be able to squeeze in this
month. On Sunday alone you’ve got nine choices. It is haunting to think that
that there could be more shows closing on that day alone than there will be
running on Broadway by the time the Tonys roll around in June.
All the more reason, then, to brave the cold and see if you can grab a last
look at “Hairspray” (that’s where I’ll be) or “Young Frankenstein” (didn’t you
always kind of mean to see it?) or “13” (hey, let’s turn out to give the kids a
nice sendoff) or “Boeing-Boeing” (that’s the cheerfully retrograde farce about
frisky flight attendants, dating from those prosperous, politically incorrect
days when they were known as stewardesses).
But wait — there’s Liza!
Ms. Minnelli also ends the limited engagement of her thrilling return to form
on Sunday afternoon at the Palace Theater, the former vaudeville house where her
mother, Judy
Garland, once had a legendary run. Ms. Minnelli’s every performance is a
heart-churning communion between performer and a rapt audience, so her last
outing should be even more emotional, as the ghosts of her famous lineage hover
in the wings. If there is a dry eye in the house as Ms. Minnelli sings a final
encore of (spoiler alert) “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,” I’d be
mighty surprised. In fact I’d be scandalized.
Joyous or galvanizing though the experience might be, it’s also undeniable
that the undertow of sadness at these closings will be unusually strong this
year. To love the theater is to admire from a distance the people who devote
their lives to making it — always against tough odds.
This year, as you watch the lights dim on a performance that has meant
something to you, that has made something happen in your heart or your head, you
may see the real human being through the mask of the fictional characters a
little more vividly. The chorus kid with the megawatt smile, the
all-but-legendary musical diva with a devoted following, the up-and-coming young
leading man — when the curtain falls they will all return to being actors
anxiously awaiting their next engagement, at a scarily perilous time for
everybody. So keep clapping, please, and a “Bravo!” or two would surely be
appreciated.