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lagilmanUPDATE: Checkitout -- http://www.montypythonsspamalot.com/
A very good day, although I'm the poorer for it -- met up with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
neadods and shayheyred and maureen_the_mad and some other folk I'm pretty sure have LJs but I'm too tired to remember.
And what do fannish folk do when they head into Manhattan? We eat. We shop. We eat some more. We go see Spamalot.
First, to Moods, home of Much Fabric. Wow. Makes me wish I was even remotely crafty with the sewing. I was mugged by a bolt of god-that's-gorgeous burgundy-and-black burned velvet (left unbought, with regret) and searched for the right silk to line my cape at not too outragous a price. Find, pounce, kill. Mine. Mine. Mine!
From there, uptown to Harry's, home of Perfect Shoes, where I replaced my much-worn Munroes with spiff new ones (thanks to Enablement by Nea and a Player Via Cellphone). And of course a stop-off at the local-to-our-hostess' chain bookstore, wherein I found two copes of Staying Dead on the shelves, which, when we left, were faced out on said shelf. Ooops. How on earth did that happen?
I also discovered that yes, I've been off the market far too long, because *whooosh* totally missed the guy checking me out at Moods until everyone pointed him out later over dinner at Uncle Nick's (home of much flaming cheese). Totally. Oblivious. And much abused for it. In my defense, I will point out that a) I think he was about a decade younger than me, and b) I was pretty much occupied with showing off my kill. Pretty silks. Preeeeety silks. *pets the pretty silks*
But on to the important thing.
Is Spamelot brilliant? Maybe. Like much Pythonesque, there are bits that leave you thinking 'well, that went on a bit too long.' But when the second act kicks in, and David Hyde Pierce brings down the house with "You Won't Succeed on Broadway" (pure comedic genius and may I bear his children, please?), you're left thinking 'that was worth the price of the ticket.' And then you get "The Diva's Lament" (Sarah Brightman, your comeuppance has arrived, stage left, please, Ms. Brightman) and "His Name is Lancelot," and you've forgotten all about the slower spots in Act I.
We laughed. Hard. Really hard. At one point, apparently, members of our party were watching two of us laugh rather than observing the stage.
Curry is clearly having a ball as the staright man (literally). Hank Azaria is a doll and a delight and oh, such a voice. David Hyde Pierce... see above. Sara Ramirez owns the stage when she opens her mouth and lets the glorious (and very very hammy) notes out. Michael McGrath has perhaps the best original line of the entire show ("well, it's not something you mention to a heavily armed Christian"). Christopher Sieber is hysterically funny even when he's not speaking. And for those of us in the SFnal world, there are hair flips worthy of Bob Eggleton. Really.
Funny shit, Maynard. The critics will probably hate it. Who cares? It's good dirty silly fun.
And god, the killer rabbit scene? Totally works.
(neadods has a spoilerific review in her journal, including listing the new scenes, for those who want full exposure)
And now I need to go fall over, as there's a full day of work to be done, tomorrow. Playtime's over. :-(
A very good day, although I'm the poorer for it -- met up with
neadods and shayheyred and maureen_the_mad and some other folk I'm pretty sure have LJs but I'm too tired to remember. And what do fannish folk do when they head into Manhattan? We eat. We shop. We eat some more. We go see Spamalot.
First, to Moods, home of Much Fabric. Wow. Makes me wish I was even remotely crafty with the sewing. I was mugged by a bolt of god-that's-gorgeous burgundy-and-black burned velvet (left unbought, with regret) and searched for the right silk to line my cape at not too outragous a price. Find, pounce, kill. Mine. Mine. Mine!
From there, uptown to Harry's, home of Perfect Shoes, where I replaced my much-worn Munroes with spiff new ones (thanks to Enablement by Nea and a Player Via Cellphone). And of course a stop-off at the local-to-our-hostess' chain bookstore, wherein I found two copes of Staying Dead on the shelves, which, when we left, were faced out on said shelf. Ooops. How on earth did that happen?
I also discovered that yes, I've been off the market far too long, because *whooosh* totally missed the guy checking me out at Moods until everyone pointed him out later over dinner at Uncle Nick's (home of much flaming cheese). Totally. Oblivious. And much abused for it. In my defense, I will point out that a) I think he was about a decade younger than me, and b) I was pretty much occupied with showing off my kill. Pretty silks. Preeeeety silks. *pets the pretty silks*
But on to the important thing.
Is Spamelot brilliant? Maybe. Like much Pythonesque, there are bits that leave you thinking 'well, that went on a bit too long.' But when the second act kicks in, and David Hyde Pierce brings down the house with "You Won't Succeed on Broadway" (pure comedic genius and may I bear his children, please?), you're left thinking 'that was worth the price of the ticket.' And then you get "The Diva's Lament" (Sarah Brightman, your comeuppance has arrived, stage left, please, Ms. Brightman) and "His Name is Lancelot," and you've forgotten all about the slower spots in Act I.
We laughed. Hard. Really hard. At one point, apparently, members of our party were watching two of us laugh rather than observing the stage.
Curry is clearly having a ball as the staright man (literally). Hank Azaria is a doll and a delight and oh, such a voice. David Hyde Pierce... see above. Sara Ramirez owns the stage when she opens her mouth and lets the glorious (and very very hammy) notes out. Michael McGrath has perhaps the best original line of the entire show ("well, it's not something you mention to a heavily armed Christian"). Christopher Sieber is hysterically funny even when he's not speaking. And for those of us in the SFnal world, there are hair flips worthy of Bob Eggleton. Really.
Funny shit, Maynard. The critics will probably hate it. Who cares? It's good dirty silly fun.
And god, the killer rabbit scene? Totally works.
(
neadods has a spoilerific review in her journal, including listing the new scenes, for those who want full exposure)And now I need to go fall over, as there's a full day of work to be done, tomorrow. Playtime's over. :-(
