The Theatre, Darling

My mother’s friend David, a self-described show queen, always sees as many broadway shows as he can when he comes to New York City. 

This time, he invited my mother and me to tag along. 

The first show that we saw was Cats: The Jellicle Ball, a remake of Cats that recreates the gay balls of the 80s and 90s. The actors were voguing across the stage, their asses moving like jello. They were doing the most intense dancing you’ve ever seen, while making it look effortless, then slinking, cat-like, across the stage. The whole show was an enjoyable assault to the senses, onstage and off, as theatre-goers shouted things like “YES BITCH” and “YES QUEEN” at the performers. Everywhere people were flapping their fans to the beat of the music whenever they heard something that they liked. There was nothing but pure joy and energy in the audience. 

(I recommend watching the documentary Paris is Burning before seeing this show in order to get context about the different houses and mothers).

The next day, we went to see Masquerade, an interactive remake of The Phantom of the Opera. It was like being in a haunted house and a musical at the same time. We went up and down escalators, being waved through the building by ushers, as the show churned around us. I sat close enough that the phantom’s cloak touched me more than once, as did Christine’s dress. 

It was an interactive performance in which we drank complimentary champagne as a violinist played the ouverture, were handed flowers to throw at the performers, and wore masquerade masks. I waltzed with one of the performers and during the freak show segment, a woman hammered nails into her nose, and then selected me from the audience to pull out one of the nails. It truly was deep in that woman’s nose: I can attest. 

Everyone had flawless singing voices. This play was also an assault to the senses, but the kind where you feel immersed in the dark world of the show, inhaling dry ice.

If you’re not already familiar with the plots of Cats and Phantom of the Opera, don’t try to follow the plot of these musicals.

They were the definition of “no plot, just vibes.”

After that, we watched Chess, starring Lea Michele. 

The story was told mainly via narration and had no set pieces. There were soporific ballads, clunky chess metaphors, and attempts to modernize its political commentary by making snarky jabs at Trump and Biden. I zoned out during nearly every song, not interested in whatever they were singing about. Chess is the kind of musical where they start singing a song two seconds after the previous song has ended and if they need to explain something they do it through a musical number. 

Parts of it were enjoyable, like the Russian dancing and the One Night in Bangkok number but overall, Chess was my least favorite show of the weekend.

Following Chess, we went to see Death of a Salesman, starring Nathan Lane as Willy Loman. 

Attention was PAID.

It was the creme della creme of Broadway theatre with Laurie Metcalf playing Linda in a play written by Arthur Miller. Lane nailed every monologue, his face turning beat red as he shouted through his miserable life.

The car and dirt were on stage the entire time, foreshadowing his looming death. Spoiler: the salesman dies.

It is an existential play that questions what the point of life even is. It covers universal themes about the human condition, with an American lilt, as it depicts how unattainable the American Dream truly is. This production used modern costumes and props that convey how little has changed in corporate America since the time that Arthur Miller was writing about.

I found Willy Loman to be a complicated and largely unsympathetic character who represented much of American life at the time through his role as a salesman, living a meaningless life and then dying a meaningless death.

Nathan Lane as Willy Loman in Death of a Salesman by Arthur Miller on Broadway: it doesn’t get any better than that. 

For our final performance, we watched Operation Mincemeat, the number one musical on Broadway. 

It has a gender-bent, replacement cast and a Nazi hiphop musical number that takes you VERY much by surprise. There were two second costume changes in every scene. A few times I blinked and missed the wardrobe change. Every one of them could sing and dance and had flawless comic timing. As if that wasn’t enough, they all had phenomenal chemistry. 

It was funny, but poignant as it talked about the human cost of war. The theater was full of weeping patrons during a musical number that explores the personal consequences of warfare. 

It was the perfect note to end our broadway tour on. 

But wait, there’s more…

A few days later, because I hadn’t had enough theatre, I went to see The Play That Goes Wrong with a friend.

As the title implies, a theater troupe is putting on a play– a whodunnit set in the English countryside– and everything that could go wrong, does go wrong. The entire stage falls apart around them, people get knocked unconscious, and bodies are dragged away, but the show must go on. The stage manager and the light and sound guy are integral characters in the show, trying to keep a sinking ship afloat. The show is all physical comedy, bordering on parkour at one point. The audience was losing its mind, shouting at the actors on stage the entire time. I laughed so hard I cried. 

All in all, it was an amazing week of theater. I laughed, I cried, but overall I enjoyed.

I had the chance to see six different shows, each one completely different from the last, but all of them were feasts for the senses. I was able to witness some incredible talent all around. 

My favorite was easily Operation Mincemeat, followed by The Play That Goes Wrong, Death of a Salesman, Jellicle Ball, Masquerade, and Chess in that order. Hopefully, if you’re in New York City soon, you’ll be able to attend some spectacular shows as well. 

(I’m holding out hope that I’ll be able to see Megan Thee Stallion in Moulin Rouge)

The Tragic Queen,

Raquel

P.S.: Check out my latest blog post on a different New York City experience from when I attended The Experts Only Music Festival

Swan Lake (in Be Major)

A few weeks ago, I hit up one of my favorite New York City pastimes: dressing up like royalty and going to see a show at Lincoln Center. Growing up, I always thought that there was something major about going to the New York City Ballet– and I am still very right about that– but I thought that it was something that only elite people got to do, that going to see the ballet meant that you were a MAJOR deal.

There’s something about taking in a show at Lincoln Center that makes me feel like “The Talented Miss Raquel,” a faux posh person in a very posh environment. 

I bought ballet tickets several months ago, purchasing literal cheap seats that veered far enough to the right that I couldn’t always see the action that was happening on stage. Standing there, holding a $45 ticket that I’d purchased two months earlier, I no longer felt like The Talented Miss Raquel.

Cleaning up nicely for one night and one night only, I left my house on what wasn’t exactly a warm and cozy night, in heels that I couldn’t walk in, and attended the ballet.

I spent the evening watching Swan Lake and thinking to myself “wow this is nothing like Black Swan.” (Which is a good thing for those who’ve never seen the movie).

I know that I’ve said it before on this blog, but I am always blown away by how effortless ballet dancers make it look, standing on the tip of their toes like it’s nothing. The human body is not meant to bend that way. 

I’m not sure why half the characters were dressed like court jesters and the other half were dressed like flocked pine cones, but I think it absolutely worked. It was a beautiful performance.

The Tragic Queen,

Raquel

P.S.: Read my previous blog post on my 2024 royal portrait

Burlesque

Before going home for the holidays, I watched my first ever burlesque show at The Slipper Room on the Lower East Side.

It was a festive holiday burlesque show, presided over by a woman wearing a thong and knee-high socks, who was ready to show us “the reason for the season.” 

This was not the kind of burlesque show where the women wore Santa hats and have tassels hanging from their nipples, but the kind where the women do trapeze stunts over the audience.

I spent the evening with a good cocktail and a nice date, watching half-naked women fling themselves through the air like it was nothing and then unravel onto the stage. 

My favorite performer was a woman who was dressed like Eve, which is to say that she was in a nude bodysuit wrapped in fake ivy, as she swung from the rafters with an apple in her mouth while the song “MOTHER ATE” played. For those unfamiliar, MOTHER ATE contains the lyrics “crazy how the very first sin was a woman who ate” and “devoured, no crumbs left in sight.”

Another woman hung from her hair and acted like it was nothing, even though I had a headache just looking at her. 

I felt like I did when I was 14 and watched a street performer in Italy hula-hoop with a ring that was lit on fire. I was impressed by the talent and the artistry, with a dangerous sense of “I could do that.” 

“I could wind up in the hospital” is more likely. 

There was a puppet show. The poodle puppet was wearing cheetah print pants, a cheetah print coat, and black, knee-high boots. I have that exact outfit at home.

I’d had other plans for the night and seeing the burlesque show ended up being my back up. It’s not often that you think you’re going to see a movie and then end up watching women hanging from silks while a Chapell Roan song plays. 

The Tragic Queen,

Raquel

Drunk Shakspeare

I can officially say that I’ve been to the one place in town where the audience can chant “Chug! Chug! Chug!” while watching a Shakespeare play. 

Technically, I suppose, that you could chant that at any Shakespeare play, but it’d be frowned upon and you’d probably be asked to leave. 

At Drunk Shakespeare, however, it is mandatory. 

You’re greeted with a double shot of a fruity cocktail and then get to sit down and order more alcohol, while you wait to watch some professional actors *sort of* do Shakespeare. As they would say, “we are professional actors, with a Shakespeare problem.”

Drunk Shakespeare goes as follows: a company of actors perform a Shakespeare play completely sober, except for one of the actors who takes on a principal role while super drunk.

The rest of the actors are bullshitting their way through it while the one actor is fighting for their life. 

An actress took four tequila shots back to back and instead of being on the floor, as I would be, she proceeded to play Lady Macbeth. A bachelorette took a shot along with her in order to prove that she was in fact doing hard liquor. 

From there, madness ensued. 

A black actor who was wearing a white sheet as one of the ghosts, pulled up the white sheet to form a hood and declared “look, I’m Clarence Thomas.”

One actor was told to deliver his lines through the medium of various different impressions, including, Jim Carey, Jack Nicholson, Hannibal Lecter, the woman from the porno, every MTA worker ever, and my personal favorite, John Mulaney.

In case you were wondering what the “woman from the porno” and “every MTA worker ever” sounded like, just know that the actor did the first one by moaning in a high pitched voice, before flinging water in the air, and did the second one by delivering his lines directly into a drawer so that they were completely muffled and incoherent. 

At times they had to dip into the audience for their props, which created the iconic line, “Is this an inhaler I see before me?” followed by the actor mumbling to himself, “you did four years at Carnegie Mellon, you can do this,”

Some not at all blurry pictures from someone not at all drunk

Likewise, Macbeth broke character again to address the audience by asking a woman to please stop clapping by hitting her ring against her wine glass, because, and I quote, “this is not a wedding in Vermont.”

Lady Macbeth, on the other hand, did at one point take an audience member’s head in her hands and press it against her chest while delivering the line “come to my woman’s breast, and take my milk for gall,” or whatever she thought the line was in her inebriated state. 

Drunk chic on the left

Jokes aside, one of the most impressive things about this is seeing how much work these professionals actually put into their craft. It shows how much work actually goes into putting on a performance like this, because it was apparent that they all knew the play backwards and forwards.

The actress playing Lady Macbeth, who was mild to moderately wasted, still managed to pull it together enough to deliver a perfect monologue from Julius Caesar, and then later another one from Hamlet. 

Anytime the audience chanted “chug, chug, chug,” she had to imbibe some more. Again, I would have needed the emergency room. 

Subjecting yourself to a pretty nasty hangover, which would possibly involve rushing to a toilet as soon as you wake up, to entertain a room full of people, shows some kind of crazy level of dedication. I hope she earns a fat check for regularly doing this.

I had loads of fun watching a sloppy drunken Shakespeare play, as the bard intended, and I think you should all do the same. 

Please drink responsibly!

The Tragic Queen,

Raquel

P.S., check out my previous blog post on All of the Books I Read in 2023