Monday, February 08, 2010

Jim Does Shaw Again.


Jim will be once again appearing in Project Shaw on February 15. The play is The Philanderer. It's part of a series where they do a staged reading of a different Shaw play a month at The Players.

Monday, February 15
7pm @THE PLAYERS

THE PHILANDERER
A topical comedy in four acts of the early Eighteen-Nineties
Written by George Bernard Shaw in 1893

ACT I: Mr. Joseph Cuthbertson’s Flat in Ashley Gardens.

ACTS II & III: The Library of the Ibsen Club in Cork Street.

ACT IV: Dr. Paramore’s Rooms in Savile Row.

Period: During the first vogue of Ibsen in London, after 1889.

THE PHILANDERER CAST:
Leonard Charteris - Mr. Chad Kimball
Mrs. Grace Tranfield – Ms. Julia Murney
Julia Craven – Ms. Cassie Beck
Colonel Daniel Craven, V.C. - Mr. Paxton Whitehead
Joseph Cuthbertson – Mr. Jim Brochu
Sylvia Craven – Ms. Emily Young
Dr. Paramore – Mr. Robert Stanton
Narrator – Mr. David Rooney

@THE PLAYERS
16 Gramercy Park South
(20th Street east of Park Av)
Produced and directed by David Staller.

Sunday, February 07, 2010

The "Don't Ask" Hypocrisy Exposed.

From Frank Rich's column on "Don't Ask, Don't Tell":

The arguments for preserving “don’t ask” have long been blatantly groundless. McCain — who said in 2006 that he would favor repealing the law if military leaders ever did — didn’t even bother to offer a logical explanation for his mortifying flip-flop last week. He instead huffed that the 1993 “don’t ask” law should remain unchanged as long as any war is going on (which would be in perpetuity, given Afghanistan). Colin Powell strafed him just hours later, when he announced that changed “attitudes and circumstances” over the past 17 years have led him to agree with Mullen. McCain is even out of step with his own family’s values. Both his wife, Cindy, and his daughter Meghan have posed for the current California ad campaign explicitly labeling opposition to same-sex marriage as hate.

McCain aside, the most common last-ditch argument for preserving “don’t ask” heard last week, largely from Southern senators, is to protect “troop morale and cohesion.” Every known study says this argument is a canard, as do the real-life examples of the many armies with openly gay troops, including those of Canada, Britain and Israel. But the argument does carry a telling historical pedigree. When Harry Truman ordered the racial integration of the American military in 1948, Congressional opponents (then mainly Southern Democrats) embraced an antediluvian Army prediction from 1940 stating that such a change would threaten national defense by producing “situations destructive to morale.” History will sweep this bogus argument away now as it did then.

Those opposing same-sex marriage are just as eager to mask their bigotry. The big arena on that issue is now in California, where the legal showdown over Proposition 8 is becoming a Scopes trial of sorts, with the unlikely bipartisan legal team of David Boies and Ted Olson in the Clarence Darrow role. The opposing lawyer, Charles Cooper, insisted to the court that he bore neither “ill will nor animosity for gays and lesbians.” Given the history of the anti-same-sex marriage camp, it’s hard to make that case with a straight face (so to speak). In trying to do so, Cooper moved that graphic evidence of his side’s ill will and animosity be disallowed — including that notorious, fear-mongering television ad, “The Gathering Storm.”

The judge admitted such exhibits anyway. Boies also triumphed in dismantling an expert witness called to provide the supposedly empirical, non-homophobic evidence of how same-sex marriage threatens “procreative marriage.” In cross-examination, Boies forced the witness, David Blankenhorn of the so-called Institute for American Values, to concede he had no academic expertise in any field related to marriage or family. The only peer-reviewed paper he’s written, for a degree in Comparative Labor History, was “a study of two cabinetmakers’ unions in 19th-century Britain.”

...

The more bigotry pushed out of the closet for all voters to see, the more likely it is that Americans will be moved to grant overdue full citizenship to gay Americans. It won’t happen overnight, any more than full civil rights for African-Americans immediately followed Truman’s desegregation of the armed forces. But there can be no doubt that Mike Mullen’s powerful act of conscience last week, just as we marked the 50th anniversary of the Greensboro, N.C., lunch counter sit-in, pushed history forward. as we marked the 50th anniversary of the Greensboro, N.C., lunch counter sit-in, pushed history forward.

Friday, February 05, 2010

Jim interviewed in his dressing room for Broadway After Dark.

A video interview of Jim Brochu in his dressing room for Broadway After Dark.

Thursday, February 04, 2010

William's Song and The End of a Book.

I am preparing a blog entry about Sunday, the last day of Zero Hour at St. Clement's, but so much happened on that day, I haven't quite grasped it all. I don't know where to start the story. But I'm working on it.

We're also taking a big fat rest. I haven't let him out of the bed for two days unless absolutely necessary.

Zero Hour starts back up again in late February. He has a couple of weeks to just lie there with his cat and his laptop and his game shows, and not go up and down steps. God bless St. Clement's, but there are a lot of steps there. And there are a lot of steps going down into subways, apartments, etc.

Speaking of St. Clement's, I feel connected to the place, and to the people there. Zero Hour might be moving to a different venue, but Dan and Kevin will remain connected to the show, which means St. Clement's. And, in case you want to know, the Sunday morning concert of New World Waking as a "musical sermon" was terrific. We all remembered our words and notes and everything.

My darling Don Myers grabbed my camera and taped it for me. Jeramy sang! (His fan club is getting bigger than mine.) John Fitzgerald, I almost terrified. I had listed "My Thanksgiving Prayer" on the program and hadn't informed him that he would be doing it with me. We were so focused on getting "I Enter This Battle Gravely" arranged on the fly.

Another added emotional sting happened when I sang "William's Song." Carolyn Wagner is ill, and the song is really all about her. But I wasn't so much sad, as rejoicing. Simultaneously, across the country, the San Francisco Gay Men's Chorus was singing at sold-out out houses in conservative cities.

[I'm told a video has been made. I can't wait to hear the crowd's reception.]


I phoned Carolyn after hearing from Gabi that she was calling for me. Carolyn's deep Arkansas accent, which reminds me of my family and home, was weak. She took breaths between sentences.

"Stayve," she said, addressing me. That's Arkansas for Steve. "I'll never forget the concert in San Francisco at that big place. I was in high cotton." (The chorus flew her in.)





"You know, I'm a real hillbilly. My family were all mountain people. We told our stories through song. That's how we handed down our history. The fact that you've told our story this way... I don't know what to say."

One of the chorus members, just last week, wrote me because he was concerned about the weirdly upbeat, almost celebratory tone of a song about gay bashing.

Kathleen:
>
> As I have been listening to and rehearsing William's Song for our concerts
> this weekend, I have been struggling with the seeming disconnect between
the
> terribly disturbing topic of the song, gay bashing, and the happy and
light
> style of the music and choreography. I think perhaps as a newer member of
> the chorus I may have missed some context there, either from the story or
> the musical context of a larger production it was taken from. Could you
> please give me, and perhaps others, some more information about this?

I wrote this note (edited) which they read aloud to the chorus.
I'm really happy you asked Kathleen about this, because I definitely
want you to be able to sing the song with full conviction. And, for
the record, you're not the first to ask me this question.

It would be easy to take a story like this and make dark, depressing
music, not that I think you're making that suggestion.

But, I purposely set this song with this music because William's Song
is, ultimately, about a victory over violence and hate. It's a
celebration of how this tragic story was turned into a victory by a
determined mother.

Also, by rejoicing rather than mourning, it's also a little bit of a
"*** you" to the homophobes, saying, "You can try to knock us down,
but we'll only get up stronger, we'll throw your hate words back in
your face, and we'll dance on your ugly aspirations."

I hope you don't think I'm being flip when I tell you all this in this
way. But that's what I feel when I sing it. It's a testament to our
power that they cannot knock us down. They cannot pretend to be
stronger than we are.

So, sing the victory. Sing the celebration of how one mother can
change an entire school district by simply standing up for her kid and
refusing to take no for an answer.

I should tell you, by the way, that Carolyn Wagner is dangerously ill. So, enjoy
her courage and celebrate her tenacity and her love for her boy
through this song.

It might seem like a strange way to deal with violence, but that's
what music and art are all about -- empowering us to overcome great
obstacles. And William's Song is a dance, a celebration and a victory.

Does that makes sense to you?
My email makes the song a bit more harsh than I intend, but the emotions are all there and they are real. Haven't you ever just wanted to stand up and shake your fist at injustice? If you're going to feel anger about something, better to express that anger through music. I'm probably walking a fine line between what Soul Force guidelines allow, but it's not my job, artistically, to censor the truth.

And now I'm a little off-track from the point of this email. It's to let you know that we're here, we're well, we're resting, and I have a lot of story to tell. So, I'm going to take a little time to tell it.

But I can say that at our little gathering after the last matinee in the parish hall, where we toasted each other and celebrated the end of the first stage of our New York run, we were also thankful that we had come through it with very little drama behind the stage, a lot of great drama on the stage.

New friendships have been forged that seem like they're going to last. A lot of good will and love has been generated along with an armload of great reviews and we have great hope, and developing plans, for the future.

I suppose if this were the old diary, I'd call this is the end of a book. I'd also be trying to think of a name for the new one. But it's hard to name the future. At the present moment, I'd call it A Time To Rest.

And so we will.

But I also have a lot of video to process, a lot of music to sort through, and I have a big announcement which will have to wait.

But you might want to circle WEDNESDAY, June 23**** on your calendars. I promise something great and wonderful.

***CHANGED FROM ORIGINAL POSTING. DATE IS NOW FIRM. JUNE 23.

Wednesday, February 03, 2010

Show Business Weekly mentions Zero Hour transfer.

Link.

INSIDE INK

By John Rowell


‘ZERO’ IS A TEN

It’s nice, in these uncertain economic times, to report on a surprise hit. The acclaimed new play Zero Hour, about the life of theater legend Zero Mostel, has been successful enough to rate a transfer to the off-Broadway house DR2, with performances beginning Feb. 24. The great stage and screen star of “Forum,” “Fiddler,” “Rhinoceros” and “The Producers” is brought to life in all his complicated and volcanic glory by actor Jim Brochu, under the direction of three-time Oscar nominee Piper Laurie. If you missed it the first go round, here’s your chance. Check out www.ZeroHourShow.com.

Monday, February 01, 2010

Gay Chorus Brings Message to Conservative Cities.

Wonderful article about the Freedom Tour being organized and performed by the San Francisco Gay Men's Chorus.

Looking for answers

Rednecks in those towns can sneer - singers said they experienced a few catcalls - but the 90 unapologetic gay men, many sporting wedding rings, came to town asking tough questions. They performed "William's Song," the true story of a high school boy who was beat up because of his sexuality. And when they sing the chorus - "Why does it take five great big guys to beat up one little queer?" - they expect some answers.

This weekend, they proved harder to ignore than the local cowboys may have expected.

There were several conservative Christians in the audience. They said they were there supporting a friend or family member, but I defy them to say they weren't moved.

"William's Song" is, of course, the song I wrote about Carolyn Wagner and her son, Bill. For readers of this blog, Carolyn is very ill right now. So, prayers and love and good wishes are definitely welcomed.

Saturday, January 30, 2010

Last Weekend at St. Clement's.

Don't forget that THIS Sunday morning, I'll be singing what we're calling "a musical sermon" as part of the Sunday morning worship service, performing much of New World Waking. Jeramy Peay and John Fitzgerald will be joining me. Starts at 11am. Everyone welcome.

Last three performances at St. Clement's and the houses this week have been filled with laughing, applauding, cheering people who are giving Jim the ride of his life. It's just so wonderful to experience.

But, as sad as we are to be leaving this wonderful historic building, we're equally thrilled that Jim will get a couple of weeks off, then he's back at it again on Feb 24. So, if you have a chance to see him here, do come. If not, we'll see you at the DR2!

Friday, January 29, 2010

I'm being quoted at Bryn Mawr.

Occasionally, I ruminate on the meta subject of online blogs and diaries. I get to do this because I got there early, and have stayed longer than just about anyone. One of the great things about being first at something is that no one can come in later and pre-date you. My longevity pioneer status is something I get to retain by just staying alive.

Today, someone directed me to this site. I believe that it's notes on a class about literary styles, specifically blogging and online diaries -- and a quote of mine is at the top of the page:

"It's like a real life serial, being played out before your eyes
with the author making it up as he goes along." --
Steve Schalchlin

I think I remember saying that. It was from the early days, when writing a diary on the net was new, and people couldn't quite figure out what it was for, or what it meant to do something like this.

And look at these notes:
main point: confounds traditional distinctions between public and private
entails reconceptualizing/reformatting of diary genre BECAUSE of

the "consensual hallucination" of the Internet, that "global autobiography project"

paradoxical enchantment: combination of anonymity and intimacy
w/ an illusion of anonymity necessary for full self-exposure
expectations of authenticity: promise of total, unmediated honesty
(less manipulative?--yet possibilities for identity deception on the internet...?)

and the reverse, as text shapes lived life:
both producer and product of autobiographical narrative

Schalchlin's "Living in the Bonus Round": "living autobiography, performing it in daily life"
"I could look for some foreshadowing...but then, I don't exactly know what's coming."
interstitial status of unsettling narrative territory:
hard to distinguish represented from real

I could look for some foreshadowing but I don't know what's coming next.

I think that's a funny line. In fact, in a diary, you can't even look backward to find unintentional foreshadowing because foreshadowing is something done by an author -- unless you want to get really metaphysical about it and assume you're being Guided from Above.

An online diary can't be completely truthful. It's impossible. For instance, I can't share negative thoughts about other people in my daily life, or expose things about them that they don't wish to share. That would be cruel and it would end up with me having fewer friends.

But I can write what I feel, and I can observe what's around me, and I can hope, and I can plan, and I can tell stories.

What living life online does is it makes you realize the truism that you make your life up as you go along. You can be blown around by forces unknown, but, even then, how you deal with those unexpected let-downs is your choice, too.

I couldn't know, when I started this in 1996, that this broken, down songwriter, barely alive, hooked up to tubes and food bags, would eventually accomplish what I've accomplished, musically and theatrically. (And I'm still not that famous. I still haven't actually made a fully produced album or had a big budget musical on the stage. But, hey, I'm not dead yet. Rock stars come in all sizes and ages and shapes these days.)

Those people reading this diary back then, only knew that I was almost dead and careening toward the cliff.

What's nice is the cliff keeps pulling away, farther away in the distance. And this Sunday, I get to sing again. How great is that?

A Tragedy On Our Block.

I've been having a bit of soreness in my left knee, which is not good for walking up and down stairs, something we do a lot here. So, a few days ago, Saturday or Sunday because it was a matinee day, I decided to go look for a walking stick. A cane.

Don told me there might be one at the St. Clement's second hand store around the corner, or at an old watch repair/pawn shop on 43rd.

I left St. Clement's walking west toward 10 ave.

A few blocks down I saw, on someone's stoop, two lighted candles and a spray of flowers. I almost took a picture of it, but something told me not to. I don't know why.

Then, Tuesday night, Dan Wackerman, one of our associate producers, told me that there had been a murder on the block. I think I even saw something about it on one of the gay blogs. But still, with everything going on with the show, it wasn't registering with me.

Then, yesterday, I had sent a note to Rev. DeChamplain about the Sunday morning service, asking her what she wanted from me, i.e. song titles, etc. And, strangely, I didn't hear anything from her. "Strange" because she's usually very prompt.

Last night, during act one, I checked my email using the box office computer when I saw that the flowers, the memorial, the murder, the young man, was named John Lea. That he was a very beloved person. Mitties had been asked if she would help conduct a memorial for him, something non-denominational.

So, out of respect for their feelings and their painful mourning, she spent the day learning about him, and then wrote up a memorial which was held in a big room in an office building, which she described as packed.

I did a search and found the story on Towleroad. The story is that John Lea was a very generous person, and he was allowing an ex, who was "down on his luck," to stay at his place for a week, which turned into a month until, a friend of his said, he was going to ask him, that night, that he'd have to leave.

I see now that the man they believe to be the murderer has been picked up in Vermont and charged. He stupidly stole John's bank card and used it to hire himself a car for the getaway.

My knee is doing a bit better, but I still have to take it really easy on the stairs. I didn't find a cane. I wish, though, I had taken that picture of the flowers and candles.

A Taping For Lincoln Center.

Last night was, literally, the most responsive and exciting performance of Zero Hour since the run started. And, thrillingly, it was the night that Lincoln Center came down to tape the show for its theater archive (an honor afforded only what they consider to be the most notable works of the season).

The audience not only laughed at all the insults, quips and jokes that dot the opening sequences (which establish Zero's personality), but the individual set pieces, which detail his history, each got lengthy applause, almost as if he had just finished singing a song.

This is very unusual. In my experience, every time you stick a camera in a live theater, the audience goes totally dead, as if they resent the intrusion. For instance, last week, we shot some B-roll. Audience? Quiet.

Maybe it's that New York audiences who really love theater are finally finding us after the very short time we've been running. Perhaps those who loved it before are coming again, knowing that the end of this run, at St. Clement's, is nearly over. I saw several familiar faces.

Also in the audience was a group of college kids. They were knocked out by it.

I have a theory that this has something to do with the fact that Jim's performance is so raw, so real, and totally acoustic. The human voice, no matter how you dress it up, amplify it, detune it or electronify it, you can't improve the visceral impact of the voice by itself, filling a great house.

You just can't.

There's a reason for this. It's because all of those fancy electronics? They were created with the specific goal of trying to duplicate the thing itself, the voice. The closer they get, the more impactful it becomes.

But the thing itself, the voice, is the perfection they're seeking.

Combine that with a great stage actor, like Jim Brochu, who knows how to use his body and his voice -- for the two are intertwined -- and you have the experience of a lifetime. Seriously.

This is from the stage manager's report. And remember, Don Myer is not writing for the press. It might even be confidential, but I'm going to quote from it anyway until someone tells me to take it down. This is what he wrote to the production team. This is not a press release.

Jim gave a mind blowing performance tonight and audience could not have been more exuberant in all of their responses to his performance. Truly a phenomenal night of theatre for everyone privileged enough to be involved in this production and for everyone fortunate enough to be sitting in the audience. Jim received a rousing standing ovation during the curtain call that brought him out for a second call after he had already closed the door of the set and left the stage.
And now it's preserved forever.

The line of people who came back to the dressing room after the show stretched all the way down the hall and out the door into the lobby. Old friends of Jim's, old friends of Zero. One man last night worked with Zero during Ulysses in Night Town in the original production, where you had to go up a rickity staircase. (Jim talks about it in Zero Hour).

Another was the group of college students. (He gave them the painting he created that night).

And more.

I would have taped all of this last night, but the battery on my camera was out, due to the fact that he had made an appearance earlier in the day at St. Francis College, his alma mater. (A video blog to come).

So, Sunday matinee is the last performance until we re-open down in Union Square at the DR2. We're gonna stay in New York, try to see some museums, and just give him a break. He even suggested last night that he might do a little tinkering with the script. Our stay here has brought new insight into Zero's life, more stories we never knew.

There's so much I want to say -- and will -- but, for now, I just wanted to mark this night. Jim was on fire. The audience was on fire. I even had hot wings at the burger joint across 46th street, so I was on fire. (I hear Union Square has some good food, too. Must investigate.)

But what a thrill be going out on this high note. In the dead of winter when all the other shows are in their "winter slump." It feels appropriate that I'll be performing New World Waking on the morning of the last show. More on that later, too.

Thursday, January 28, 2010

Time Out NY Praises the Zero Hour Extension

More time for Zero Hour

zero-hour-5As one-man shows go, Jim Brochu’s Zero Hour is as traditional as they come: a tribute to a famous person—in this case, the great comic actor Zero Mostel, who died in 1977—in which the subject, near the end of his or her days, looks back at a life both well and nearly spent. Full Gallop, Thurgood, Tru, Occupant and many other plays have traveled this dramatic path before. But not every solo show need be an aesthetic innovator, and Brochu’s tribute to Mostel, directed by Piper Laurie, does exactly what it sets out to do: Brochu’s explosive performance makes the most of Mostel, and proves wildly engaging even as it educates the audience about the trials and triumphs of the outsize showman. We were swept up in Brochu’s merry wake when we reviewed the show in its current incarnation at the Theatre at St. Clement’s, where it closes on Sunday, January 31, and are delighted with the news this week that Zero Hour will transfer to the DR2 Theatre in Union Square for an open-ended run, starting February 24. If you haven’t seen the show yet, head to Telecharge soon—tickets for the DR2 run are scheduled to go on sale later today—and make a date with a Broadway legend.

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Zero Hour paintings raise $1,550 for U. of Rochester Theater Dept.


Last night, an alumni group from the University of Rochester sponsored a live auction of the painting Jim created during the evening's performance of "Zero Hour" and raised $1,550 for the theater arts department.

The auction began and the painting was bid up to $800. The winner then donated the painting back where it fetched an additional $750 to the second highest bidder. Jim then took the painting from the previous night's performance and gave it to the first bidder, thus giving both a chance to take home an original Brochu/Mostel painting.

Each night, Jim paints an original painting during the live performance. Each one is carefully numbered and dated, then donated to charity. This sets a record for the most money collected during one of these auctions.