Theatre, travel, art and history on the big screen

Nowadays, "going to the movie theatre to see a show" doesn't necessarily mean you're going to see a Hollywood blockbuster. The big screen is changing and I'm pretty sure it will continue to change. In five years, who knows what we'll be going to see at the movies?

We've recently seen The Shakespeare Show, The Winter's Tale, and Hamlet-the-character: regularly re-defined — all of which were live shows on film and all of which I've reported on in the designated links.

I've loved seeing them all: next best thing to being there.

The most recent show we've seen is called St Peter’s and the Papal Basilicas of Rome. It comes in a 3D version but we didn't go to that one and I'm glad. There was a lot of dipsy-doodling around Rome in a helicopter (and I thought maybe a drone but I didn’t find any info to that effect). I think 3-D might have made me a little nauseous. As it was, it was very gorgeous and very informative.

The film dealt first, as expected, with St. Peter's.

St. Peter's Basilica (Italian: San Pietro in Vaticano) is a major basilica in Vatican City, an enclave of Rome. St. Peter's was until recently the largest church ever built and it remains one of the holiest sites in Christendom. Contrary to what one might reasonably assume, St. Peter's is not a cathedral - that honor in Rome goes to St. John Lateran.

St. Peter's Basilica stands on the traditional site where Peter - the apostle who is considered the first pope - was crucified and buried. St. Peter's tomb is under the main altar and many other popes are buried in the basilica as well. Originally founded by Constantine in 324, St. Peter's Basilica was rebuilt in the 16th century by Renaissance masters including Bramante, Michelangelo and Bernini.

If you've been there, you don't need me to tell you — and besides that, you've read it everywhere — it's vast and yet, it's all done to such perfect proportionate scale, that it's only by considering yourself and looking at other humans that you comprehend its immensity.

The cameras and narration covered art and sculpture, most notably Michelangelo's Pieta and the statue of St. Peter himself:

Pieta

St. Peter

There's so much in St. Peter's Basilica, the film did its best but it knew it could have spent its whole duration in that one location. You can spend days there really.

**********************************************************************************************************************

Santa Maria Maggiore — St. Mary Major — is the church you often see on the news when Pope Francis is travelling. He stops to say a prayer to ask for safe travel on his way to the airport and when his trip is over, he drops in there to say thanks for getting him back safely before he heads home to the Vatican.

Santa Maria Maggiore: One of Rome's four patriarchal basilicas, this monumental 5th-century church stands on the summit of the Esquiline Hill, on the spot where snow is said to have miraculously fallen in the summer of AD 358.

It was August 5 when the snow fell. The liturgical feast of the Dedication of the Basilica of Saint Mary Major is celebrated each year on the 5th of August. It is now a custom to remember the miraculous snowfall. At the conclusion of the Solemn Mass of that day a shower of white rose petals falls from the dome of the Chapel of Our Lady.

St. Mary Major was not very far from our hotel when we visited Rome and we went to Sunday Mass here. The interior is spectacular and, as with so many of the ancient churches, worth spending many hours just taking in the art and the history.

The other two Papal Basilicas are St. John Lateran and St. Paul Outside the Walls. The film did them justice also and so will I when I visit them in person. Next time.

If you're interested in some of the live shows on the big screen — for example, Helen Mirren as Queen Elizabeth in The Audience will be playing in theatres in July — I recommend a visit to National Theatre Live where you will find schedules, dates, titles etc.

A secret lake — and a walk in the woods

On the eastern outskirts of the town that used to be known as Chatham, NB, if you take a right turn and slog through thick woods, you will come to the lake. When I was a child, it was called the lake. I see by Google Maps it's now called Chatham Lake.

I remember going there in the dead of winter with my older sister and her friends to skate. It was cold and I didn't like skating and I was little. I suspect my mother had told my sister to take me along. I can't imagine what I was doing there otherwise.

Even though the snow on the trail that led to the lake was tracked down, I remember it being a hard old hike. Once we reached the lake, if it hadn't been so cold and if I'd enjoyed skating, it probably would have been a nice outing. I do remember that there were lots of kids and families skating. At least once, someone lit a bonfire and people were clustered around it, probably roasting marshmallows.

I have no idea how many times I was taken to the lake to skate.

It was many years later that I first heard about the legends. The lake was inland from the Miramichi by about a mile. As it happens, there's an island in the river — Middle Island — which is almost the exact size and shape of the lake.

This is, of course, the satellite image and you can plainly see both island and lake. The straight road nearest the lake is the one we walked from our house before we took the rough trail into the woods.

When I was growing up, there was no causeway to Middle Island. I was over there a few times but we rowed over if someone had a small boat. I think at low tide, it wasn't a difficult swim.

The similarities between the lake and Middle Island were spoken of as early as 1832.

In a History of the Northern Part of New Brunswick, Robert Cooney wrote:

“On the south side of a river is a lake so exactly corresponding with it, in length, breadth and general configuration, that an enthusiast in geology would be disposed to ascribe its present locality to some of nature’s freaks.”

One legend with an Irish connection, told how leprechauns moved the soil around to create Middle Island and The Lake. Another told of the devil, in a fit of anger, taking a piece of ground and throwing it into the river. This piece of ground formed Middle Island and The Lake at the same time. A similar tale told of a giant who stepped on soft ground causing it to reappear in the river to form Middle Island, while The Lake was formed from his footprint.

I don't know which of these legends is true although I'm pretty sure leprechauns had nothing to do with it. I'd vote for the devil although I don't know what would make him so angry that he'd scoop up an island-sized piece of ground and throw it into the river.

This photo by Edward O'Reilly was taken from the air and shows another angle of the lake and the island.

Middle Island was a quarantine station for many Irish refugees who were fleeing the famine. Many hundreds of people died there and the island is now a memorial park.

---

When I was in Grade Six at the Chatham Grammar School, my best friend was Judy Walters. Her father was manager of the Bank of Montreal and her grandfather, in Lunenburg, NS, was Captain Angus Walters, the legendary Captain of the Bluenose.

It was kind of exciting that my best friend's Grampy was captain of the ship that was on our dime.

In Chatham, the Bank of Montreal managers lived — until the Bank built them a new place — in the house called Blink Bonnie.

A beautiful example of Gothic architecture, it was built by Alexander Cormack for George H. Russell, a Chatham merchant. Although it was altered considerably in later years, it ranks as one of Chatham's most striking houses.

It was the closest thing to a mansion I've ever hung out in, with its stained glass windows, sweeping staircase, butler's pantry — and on the top floor, a ball-room. A real ball-room with a small stage at one end where, I suppose the musicians would be discreetly situated during the ball. Judy and I used to go up there a lot and made many plans about shows we were going to put on — shows we would write and act in, enlisting friends, planning publicity and poster-making. We never did do a show but not for lack of planning.

One summer day as we sat wondering what to do with ourselves, we began to talk about the lake in the woods. I told Judy about my skating trips there when I was little and how, even though it was awful, there was something a little magical about this secret lake in the woods. (I'm saying "secret" because I never heard of anyone going there in the summer.)

We decided right there and then that we'd make an excursion. We went to the kitchen in the mansion and made some sandwiches and I hope we took something to drink although water bottles weren't a dime a dozen around people's houses as they are now.

Our sense of direction and geography must have been pretty good. In this picture, the street that starts just near the bottom of that "A" is King St. Blink Bonnie is on King St. and we figured if we just walked straight out through the woods, we'd end up at the lake!

It's more built up today than it was then. I honestly have little memory of much of our walk but I'll tell you this: it was not a pleasant walk in the woods. I do remember that we reached a point — I think it always happens on a hard journey — where we knew there was no turning back. Those woods were dense. We were little girls dressed in shorts and blouses, maybe sandals although I can't remember the footwear. A machete might have been helpful but we had no tools. We got all scratched up.

When I look back on it, I'm quite aware that it could have ended badly. As far as I know, we didn't tell anyone where we were going.

I'm doing that thing where I'm trying to dredge memories that have long been buried. I think there's a possibility that we might have found our way out to the road and gone into the lake by way of the track. I can't be sure. I do remember being at the lake though and I remember that it wasn't very nice. It was boggy and surrounded by scrubby vegetation. The undergrowth was thick and barely passable.

I never thought I'd hear myself say this but I think the lake was nicer in the winter, mounded with pristine white snow, shovelled into usefullness by enthusiastic skaters, people enjoying themselves as if they were on a Currier and Ives Christmas card.

I expect Judy and I learned some kind of lesson. As far as I know, we never told anyone about our lake adventure. I'm pretty sure we knew we'd catch hell, even though we came out of it in one piece.

If the Walters had stayed in Blink Bonnie, maybe we'd have written a play about our ordeal in the woods and performed it in the beautiful ball-room. Didn't happen. Their family moved to a brand new house which wasn't nearly as conducive to creativity. I believe it was much easier to heat though.

Dinner with HM: delicious, delectable, maybe Eggs Drumkilbo

The new month on the calendar that hangs over my desk looks quite delicious and delectable.

It's a Blackcurrant Sorbet, particularly fashionable during the reign of George IV (1820–30) but still served at Buckingham Palace today.

I picked my calendar up when we visited one of the palace gift shops during our trip to England last fall. The calendar is colourful and elegant, adapted from a recent royal cookbook — 12 gorgeous photos of mostly sophisticated dishes that are served at State Dinners but are also enjoyed by the family.

The cookbook and calendar both use the same cover — a photogenic rhubarb and white chocolate parfait. In some of my browsing, I read that it seems like an unusual combination but the tart rhubarb and the sweet white chocolate go very nicely together. We're always looking for new ways to use rhubarb so maybe I'll add this to the list.

Another of their pretty desserts is coming up in September and is called Sablé Breton with English Strawberries and Lemon Cream. It sure sounds good and if you make it at your house, it probably isn't compulsory for it to look like this:

It's not a terribly complicated recipe although it calls for 2 250g punnets of strawberries.

A punnet is a small box for the gathering and sale of fruit and vegetables, typically small berries. The word is largely confined to Commonwealth countries and is of uncertain origin, but is thought to be a diminutive of "pun", a British dialect word for pound, from the days in which such containers were used as a unit of measurement or from the name of Reginald Crundall Punnett (1875–1967), a geneticist and grower of strawberries who used to sell them in the London market in a small chip basket.

One of the more eccentric dishes showed up for the month of April. It's called Eggs Drumkilbo and I wasn't surprised to read that it was a favourite of Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother.

The story goes that one night, back in the 1950s, some guests arrived late at Drumkilbo House, long after dinner had been cleared away and the owner of the house, Lord Elphinstone, asked his cook to feed his guests with whatever she could put together.

In the fridge she found some leftover lobster, there were some eggs which she hard-boiled, prawns and tomatoes. However, with the addition of anchovy sauce, Tabasco, stock, gelatine and mayonnaise — a dish to be proud of was born. So much so, that Lord Elphinstone served it to his neighbour and aunt, the Queen Mother, who immediately got her chef to copy the recipe and include it within their repertoire of dishes.

Eggs Drumkilbo is a magnificent dish, combining Scottish seafood with haute cuisine, or to put it another way, it is like a posh prawn cocktail and egg mayonnaise all wrapped into one!

I can see that Eggs Drumkilbo might be quite tasty.

I had asparagus for dinner today. Ours was steamed until just fork-tender, then plunged into cold water so it would stay nice and green. It was then tossed with halved cherry tomatoes, minced garlic, a chiffonade of fresh basil leaves and a little olive oil. It was beautiful asparagus and I think Her Majesty would have liked it.

Hers, however, looks like this:

Her chef says it's a spectacular starter. It's made to look like a crown and the extra flavours added are crab and mango.

Another cook says:

The asparagus is lightly cooked and then lined into metal rings to create a crown like, circular shape. The middle is filled with crabmeat, mango, chives, lemon and lime before being topped with salad leaves dressed in a lemon vinaigrette. It’s lifted carefully out of the rings and tied together with chives.

I've only scratched the surface of the royal menus but as the months go by and I turn my calendar pages, I'll probably be inspired to return to this subject.

Shakespeare strikes again, as timely as ever

William Shakespeare died on his 52nd birthday. It was April 23, 1616. On April 23 of this year, 400 years since his death, his life and work were once again celebrated in his hometown of Stratford-Upon-Avon.

You may wonder — and it's worth wondering — how it could be possible to find new ways to honour Shakespeare after 400 years of continuous production of his work and of the recognition of his place at the top of the list of acclaimed writers.

They managed. Today we went to see the big-screen presentation of the show they put together for April 23. It was filmed by the BBC — shown live in the UK — and is now playing around the world.

It's a two hour and 40 minutes show and when it was over, I said, "There wasn't one minute in that production that I didn't like." This is unusual; I'm no pushover.

The show was done at the Royal Shakespeare Company Theatre in Stratford.

The stage was in the centre, the orchestra was elevated behind the stage, there were several pathways leading offstage and there were balconies which were used by the actors for certain scenes. The audience was on three sides, on several levels, all tucked in quite close to the stage.

The show included everything. Some of the critics said when they heard there would be "something for everyone," they cringed and expected a "low-brow" evening of dumbed-down Shakespeare. That's a pretty snobby attitude but anyway, that's not what happened.

What they wanted to show us was Shakespeare and the wide and often direct influence he had on culture throughout the ages. The show included amazing scenes from the plays and beautiful and often touching renditions of the songs. But it also included broad comedy, high drama, Broadway music and dancing, ballet, opera, jazz, hip hop and Rufus Wainwright.

Each piece was either direct Shakespeare or a story inspired by his genius: West Side Story from Broadway, for example; Brush Up Your Shakespeare from Kiss Me, Kate (The Taming of the Shrew); a Duke Ellington composition inspired after he saw a play at Stratford in Ontario (Canadian content!); the pas de deux from the ballet Romeo and Juliet which followed the balcony scene from the play. When the dance ended, we could see Romeo and Juliet from the play, up on the balcony, watching with us.

A funny scene that got a lot of publicity at the time involved the well-known soliloquy from Hamlet. The current Hamlet from the Royal Shakespeare Company had begun to recite it when a director came out and made a suggestion about which word to emphasize — to be or not to be. The joke, which soon becomes obvious, is that more and more Hamlets begin to appear, all to offer their two-cents worth about which word to emphasize.

By the time they've all appeared, Paapa Essiedu has accepted advice from Tim Minchin, Harriet Walter, David Tennant, Benedict Cumberbatch, Rory Kinnear, Ian McKellen and Judi Dench — Hamlet the Dame, she declares.

But the final advice is yet to come. It may be considered that the Prince of Denmark could be well-played by the Prince of Wales and indeed, he was there and he joined the advice party.

You'll be glad to know that after the fun, all the Hamlets except Paapa Essiedu left the stage and he delivered the soliloquy with heart-touching feeling.

The show was efficiently run and well-paced. The hosts were David Tennant and Catherine Tate. They did a lovely job. (She looked very familiar to me and I couldn't place her until I got home and looked her up. She played Nellie in the American version of The Office.)

Helen Mirren made a short appearance near the end as Prospero from The Tempest:

Our revels now are ended./ These our actors,/ As I foretold you,/ were all spirits and/ Are melted into air,/ into thin air. . .

And David Suchet (best known as Hercule Poirot) and Judi Dench appeared as Oberon and Titania from A Midsummer Night's Dream as the celebration ended.

There was so much more. I could sit here for hours, telling you every detail of the show. I won't though but if you can get to see it, I recommend it. I can't imagine that you wouldn't enjoy it.

Musicals that meet with my approval — and then some

I honestly didn't know — I had never given it much thought — how many musicals there are in the world of entertainment. I only began to realize how many when I was checking out certain movie critics to see what kind of consensus there is about what are the best musicals.

I realized another thing: I knew that I could never pick the "best" musical. I wouldn't even be able to pick my "favourite" musical.

For example, I love The Music Man — but do I love it because it's a great musical or because Robert Preston is one of the great loves of my life?

He's an unusual leading man; he's not mysterious or enigmatic. He seems open and joyous and fellow-next-door friendly, all of which is so attractive. But his IMDB biography calls him a "leading man of vast charisma" so perhaps he's that too. Whatever, he's the only Professor Harold Hill I can imagine so he did something right.

Singin' in the Rain is high up on most critics' list of best musicals. Gene Kelly is, without a doubt, one the great dancers and he was lucky to be able to dance with Donald O'Connor and Debbie Reynolds in this one.

Debbie was just 19 when she was cast in Singin' in the Rain. (Gene, her love interest, was 40. The more things change. . . eh?) She was not a dancer but she had won a beauty contest and one of the big studio heads wanted her in the movie and that's how things were done in those times. Gene was very hard on her but she became a dancer of acclaim because of this experience so she eventually forgave him.

It's amazing that this movie was pulled together at all as the songs had been around for awhile — some of them, including the title song, had already been used in other movies — but the songs were dumped on the writers and the writers were told to make a story around the songs. And they did!

Gene Kelly was a perfectionist and although he was ill and had a high fever while he was filming the title song, he kept at it until it was perfect.

There it is: perfection.

And then there's Cabaret.

I've seen only the movie and I was interested to discover in the reading I've done recently that the movie and the stage production are completely different from each other.

The film is loosely based on the 1966 Broadway musical Cabaret by Kander and Ebb, which was adapted from the novel The Berlin Stories (1939) by Christopher Isherwood and the 1951 play I Am a Camera adapted from the same book. Only a few numbers from the stage score were used for the film; Kander and Ebb wrote new ones to replace those that were discarded.

People who don't like musicals complain about characters bursting into song in strange and unusual circumstances. They like Cabaret because, with one exception, all the songs are performed in the Kit Kat Klub which strikes people as being appropriate.

The exception to this is surely the most chilling moment ever caught in a musical. It's the young boy — the Nazi youth — singing Tomorrow Belongs to Me. He sings in a beer garden, in his sweet voice, his Aryan features emphasized by the sun shining on his fair beautiful face. As he sings, others begin to join in and at one point, his sweet face changes and becomes frightening with anger before it reverts to innocence, even while most of the people in the beer garden have stood to sing out along with him.

Cabaret has very dark themes as it is set in Germany during the rise of the Nazis but it also has romance and comedy and memorable music. I rank it quite high on my personal list.

I wrote about Fiddler on the Roof here and here. It's obviously on my list.

But what about My Fair Lady? Oklahoma? Guys and Dolls? The King and I? West Side Story? Show Boat?

So many musicals; so little time. It's fun writing about them though so I suspect I'll be back to them at some point.

Musicals that go over the line and need a re-write

When I wrote recently about Camelot, I made a blanket statement. "I love musicals," I wrote.

But musical theatre covers a wide range of tastes and it's not really possible to love it all. In fact, the only show I ever walked out of was a musical comedy.

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum was playing at Neptune Theatre here in Halifax — probably in the '80s. It had played on Broadway and in London to great acclaim, had won Tonys and other awards, had made stars of some of its actors. I knew little about it except that music and lyrics were both written by Stephen Sondheim and the production we were going to see had some excellent local actors.

I was looking forward to it, as I always look forward to the theatre.

I knew early on that I wouldn't be there for the curtain call.

I was simply appalled. It was openly and blatantly sexist and for those who don't mind if their plays are sexist, it was also stupid and embarrassingly unfunny. It wasn't something I could just shrug off with a cringe and a grimace. It's a damn wonder I didn't get up and throw something at the actors on stage.

The male characters in this play are buffoons and/or slaves. The female characters are shrews or subjects of ridicule and humiliation. The young beautiful women are being trafficked for sex. The virgins are the ones with highest value.

I can't even believe I'm typing this — and this musical is being performed to this day!

We left at intermission. I think — I hope — I was gracious enough to tell Dan he should stay and I'd make my own way home but Dan left with me. Solidarity, I trust.

The hardest part was that our beloved friend, the late Sudsy Clark, had a fairly large role in Forum and I didn't know how we would handle talking about it the next time we saw him. And to be honest, I can't remember how we handled it or if it even came up. I was a militant, angry feminist then — even more than I am now — so it may be that Suds would know that this was not a play I could easily tolerate.

Having said that, I have some very mixed feelings about Stephen Sondheim. I hated A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum and I've never understood the appeal of Sweeney Todd. He wrote the lyrics for West Side Story and Gypsy both of which I like. He's been called the "greatest lyricist of all time" which I wouldn't concede but he's been widely acclaimed by people who should know. Maybe I just can't get the taste of Forum out of my mouth. (Eww. What an ugly image!)

The other well-known musical that I have a problem with is Rodgers and Hammerstein's Carousel.

I don't remember having a problem with it when it first came out as a movie — 1956 — because it wouldn't have been seen as anything unusual at that time. But Carousel is built around a plot of domestic violence which it romanticizes and eroticizes.

I saw it recently and I was shocked — again — by some of the lines: “Is it possible, mama, that you can be hit and it doesn’t hurt? He hit me — and it didn’t hurt! It felt like a kiss.” And Mother assured her it was indeed possible. It’s love. That is so much the age-old mantra — of beaters and beaten.

Carousel is still performed regularly. It was one of the headliners at Stratford last summer. The Globe and Mail gave it a scathingly bad review.

If ever a Golden Age musical called for sensitive reinvestigation, it’s this one – especially at a time when sexual harassment has become front-page news and public tolerance for the trivialization or romanticization of violence against women is at a new low.

Near the end of Carousel comes the infamous line from Julie to her daughter: “It’s possible for someone to hit you, hit you hard, and not hurt at all.”

How do you create a convincing journey to that line in 2015?

Rodgers and Hammerstein wrote some of the most wonderful songs of the era for Carousel: The Carousel Waltz; You're a Queer One, Julie Jordan; (When I Marry) Mister Snow; If I Loved You; June Is Bustin' Out All Over; When the Children Are Asleep; Blow High, Blow Low; Soliloquy

This Was a Real Nice Clambake; Geraniums in the Winder; There's Nothin' So Bad for a Woman; What's the Use of Wond'rin'?; You'll Never Walk Alone; The Highest Judge of All; Ballet: "Billy Makes a Journey; If I Loved You (reprise);

Finale: You'll Never Walk Alone

It's hard to harbour completely negative thoughts when those songs are involved but there's only so much one can take. Carousel steps over the line and if it's going to be performed, it needs to be changed.

For one brief shining moment. . .

Cooperstown, New York is mostly known for the Baseball Hall of Fame and a fine attraction it is, too. I love baseball and I thoroughly enjoyed visiting the Hall of Fame; I would happily go again.

But Cooperstown offers more than baseball and one of my favourite memories from our last visit there was live theatre at the Glimmerglass Festival.

The author, James Fenimore Cooper, was born and grew up in Cooperstown. The town was named after his father who was a judge. It's situated on the shores of the beautiful Otsego Lake. It was James who first called the lake "Glimmerglass" in his novel, The Deerslayer.

(A short aside: The name Glimmerglass was not new to me. You may know — because I've probably told you — that I'm one of the self-described experts on the works of L.M. Montgomery. There was a time when I could recite by heart whole pages from her books — and I was just a little kid! Anyway. . . when I saw the Cooper reference to Glimmerglass, I went to Anne of Avonlea and turned to page 106. I found Anne and three of her friends roaming through woodlands where they found a small shallow pool. They ran a little contest to choose a name for the pool. It was Anne's friend, Priscilla, who chose Glimmer-glass — it wasn't the winner — and there was no mention of James Fenimore Cooper.)

The Glimmerglass Festival started out as The Glimmerglass Opera and its opera is still its major production. But it's branched out enormously and now does, in repertory, a Broadway musical, youth productions, second-stage plays, workshops etc. The opera being performed the summer we were there was The Flying Dutchman and I honestly didn't think I could happily sit through three hours of Wagner on a beautiful summer's day. (The opera this summer is La bohème. I would happily sit through that.)

We decided to do the Broadway musical — Camelot. I was glad to be able to see it on stage. I had never seen it anywhere although I knew the music well. I knew the music from the original Broadway production although for some awful reason which I don't know, I own the long-playing soundtrack of the movie. I feel such hostility even thinking about it that I should go routing around in the basement until I find it and make sure I put it out in the yard sale. I think I got it at a yard sale, now that I think about it.

While I've been writing this, I've been thinking of successful Broadway musicals that were turned into terrible movies because Hollywood producers were too short-sighted and greedy to put the Broadway stars into the films. But that's a story for another day. For sure.

Part of the experience of Glimmerglass is just being in that lovely setting. When you take your seat, the walls are still retracted so you're in an open-air theatre. As the production starts, the walls descend as the lights go down.

This photo was taken in the aisle, right beside our seats.

It was a beautiful production. It starred Nathan Gunn in the role of Lancelot, with David Pittsinger as King Arthur and Andriana Chuchman — from Winnipeg — as Guenevere.

At Glimmerglass, the music was provided by a 42-piece orchestra and the singers don't use microphones so it was a beautiful authentic musical experience. The songs — I Wonder What the King Is Doing Tonight?, The Simple Joys of Maidenhood, Camelot, C'est Moi, The Lusty Month of May, Then You May Take Me to the Fair, If Ever I Would Leave You, What Do the Simple Folk Do?, I Loved You Once in Silence, and others — are as lovely as they ever were (and much nicer than the renditions on my movie record.)

I love musicals. I listened earlier to Robert Goulet, as Sir Lancelot, singing If Ever I Would Leave You. It was a sublime experience. I intended to come here and write a few pleasant things about musicals I've loved and others that I haven't loved. I'll be sure and do that — soon.