blogtastrophy

Last day of January, my friends. Did you ever have the feeling that before you know it, it's going to be New Years Eve again, and you're going to be saying to yourself, "Whoa, where the fuck did Y2K+1 go?!?" Dear Lord, please give me the sentience to not sleep through my life.

I've been thinking about that a lot, actually. I'm not one of those people who zones out in front of the TV each night after coming home from work, then gets up in the morning and repeats the drudgery all over again - I'm lucky in that I have the sort of job that offers something different every day, and I love it besides.

But even I occasionally find myself suddenly snapping to and realizing that I haven't exactly been paying attention as the world passed me by. I thought about it particularly in a coffee shop this afternoon, while I was killing time before going off to a voice-over session. Sometimes I think our environment has a lot to do with it... I mean, clearly we are affected by seasonal changes in weather & such... look at all those people who get depressed in the gray light of winter, only to bounce back again once spring comes. It doesn't help that I live in Pittsburgh, which traditionally gets more cloudy, gray days than Seattle - and that's saying something.

By the way - the picture at the right is what your dog looks like when he's really sorry he just chewed your socks, and he thinks that's enough to get you to take him for a walk.

Check out what Ted Hoover had to say about Gavan's production of Joseph... in Pittsburgh's City Paper...I think he liked it:

And besides, after having just seen the Pittsburgh Musical Theater's production of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, I had the desperate need for a simple tale of dismemberment and murder.

Joseph's director/choreographer Gavan Pamer has discharged his duties with such wattage, I swear I left the Byham Theater with 50 percent of my body covered in radiation burns.

If you could somehow take the essence of Lola Falana, Liberace, Juliet Prowse and Chita Rivera, toss in a few more spangles and neon, melt the whole thing down and shoot it up, the resultant high might come close to the entertainment overkill of this production.

Except it's not overkill because, given how mind-numbingly idiotic Joseph is, Pamer takes the only theatrically logical step -- he plasters over every inch of this musical with showmanship. Odd, certainly, for a story based on the Bible, but if you've gotta sit through it, it's a blessed relief.

Replicating the alacrity and punch of a lightning bolt, this is a ruthlessly precise production, and in no area does the show score higher than in its choreography: A little bit of Fosse, DeMille, Robbins and a whole lot of Pamer floods over the footlights at warp speed -- and when that doesn't work, Pamer has the male chorus strip down to their loincloths and sing.

Angela Bloomquist sings with a glorious voice marred only by the distortion of the sound system. Kevin Covert and Joe Pedulla unfurl their talents on two wonderfully funny numbers, and all of it is driven by Doug Levine's miraculous musical direction.

Pamer's final ace-up-the-sleeve is Peter Matthew Smith as the dream-deciphering Joseph. Smith sings and dances up such a storm that you can't help think that if his soothsaying ever bottoms out, Joseph should seriously consider a career as a go-go boy.

Though I personally believe that Andrew Lloyd Webber is exactly what the Bible deserves, I have to say it's doubtful that you'll ever see either performed better.