Saturday, November 06, 2010

Horror on the Seas

I should have known when a German couple walked out toward the first of the revue show. It is called the British Invasion, billed as a revue of 60's music. Not the usual nostalgic Broadway tunes or peppy standards that is the usual shipboard fest. But like the Germans I was hoping for a better outcome although not the revisionist history lesson they might have hoped for.
The music was good although Amy Weinhouse's "Rehab" following a Rolling Stones song was out of place. Okay, Amy is British and it was all about British music but to see it done as a production number with dancers in psychedelic pasliey outfits will never work.
My real problem was the choreography. I'm married to a dancer and my standards are higher than most, but in this era of "So You Think You can Dance" the bar has been set pretty high for even the average observer.
This "ographer" thought every note and every word should be accompanied with a movement usually a hand gesture. Think Petula Clark's "Downtown" done in sign language for the deaf and you will be close, way too much and it was awkward.
I also have a problem with designers who take an era of clothing style and make the extreme even bigger. Think Cirque de Sole doing the wardrobe for the Mamas and the Papas. They actually did Queen's music as a pastel jump suit clad marching band. No kidding band hats and dancers fake playing trombones.
It was half way through the show that they did music from the Beatles. How can you screw that up? Well, here is one way. How about the whole section done as a turn of the century Currier and Ives vaudeville show? Not a style that might be reminiscent of Sergeant Pepper. It was a garish spectacle of lime green and hot pink sports coats with black piping outlining the lapels and straw hats to match. Penny Lane was done with a quartet of two couples on a Sunday afternoon park bench. Lucy in the Sky was a girl on a flowered swing doing acrobatics. At some point during this exhibition the boat moved significantly and I was certain it was John Lennon rolling in his grave.
The best was yet to come. Regal music plays and a dimly lit throne is rolled out from the center of the set. It is a King with red velvet cape crown, scepter and full regalia. The Royal fanfare morphs into a contemporary sound and in full kingly drag a guy begins to sing Phil Collin's music. I figure by now the German couple has found a better way to weather the storm and I wish I was there with them.
The kids on stage worked their asses off in an attempt to bring some logic to theater of th absurd. They are all talented and deserve a better vehicle. Perhaps it was just not the show for me. To my amazement after only polite applause throughout, they stood for a final ovation. Go figure.
Captain Ego, the Cruise director stepped on stage to accept the accolades saying he was so proud to be British.
I am going to bed to be rocked to sleep by the sea. From now on I will listen to that part of me that wanted to stay in bed in the first place.
As you were,

1 comment:

Bob Conrad said...

Only thing worst, would be if you were part of that show. Oh No!