The Drowsy Chaperone

"Are you ready to see the next big thing to come to Utah? There is a traveling Tony-award-winning Broadway production of The Drowsy Chaperone. There is sure to be singing, dancing, comedy, and acting far above the quality you are used to getting on these local stages. And as if that weren't enough, I'll even buy your ticket for you."

"Don't be crazy, Uncle Marc. You don't have to buy my ticket for me, but I would love to go."

"Alright. Well, I am taking Grandpa out to see the Saturday matinee this week, and we would love to have you join us."

Since I couldn't imagine spending the money required to get tickets near my grandfather and uncle, I ended up in the nose bleed seats, somewhere far, far above them. Knowing that I wouldn't see them at all during the show, I called Uncle Marc in advance and asked, "I'd like to at least see you both. What do Mormons do that is the equivalent of getting coffee or a drink after a show? I think it's getting dessert, right? Maybe we could meet somewhere afterwards to get dessert."

We settled on Lamb's Cafe. It's an old cafe downtown, leftover from the days when even greasy spoons had dark wood, mirrors, and tablecloths. It's been around since 1919 and my grandparents used to go on dates there when they were young.



I sat through the show with the facial expression that I wear for theatrical performances: wide eyed with a slack-mouth grin. I have to admit, the show was silly, but one thing I loved: the narrator, Man in Chair. Man in Chair has no other name. He appears to live a lonely life, cut off from the world in his shabby old apartment in what appears to be New York in the present. The one thing that brings him joy is listening to old Broadway musicals. And as he puts on a record of the musical from the 1920's (i.e. the Drowsy Chaperone), the musical seems to actually take place in his apartment. The musical is filled with all sorts of stock characters, racial stereotypes, and bizarre lyrics, which Man in Chair points out to the audience, but then pleads with us to look past that to the thrill of the show itself, to the ability that it has to take us away from the present, to a world filled with song and drama.

At one point he accidentally puts on the wrong record, and a spoof on The King and I comes on. The scenery, the costumes, everything switches from Prohibition Era America to Victorian Era China, with a white woman in a white Victorian dress and white actors dressed as Chinese people, with terrible accents. The lyrics go something like this:

VICTORIAN LADY
What is it about the Asians
That fascinates Caucasians
What is it about the Asians
That's so nice
Is it the won tons? The egg rolls? The rice?
Perhaps it's Buddha or Confucius and their excellent advice

THE EMPEROR
What is it about Caucasians
That mystifies we Asians?

And so forth, but I'll spare you. I leaned over to Vince and whispered, "Well, I guess we found our song." It made me think about all the jokes over the years that I had made about shiksa-appeal.

I loved the conceit of Man in Chair. I loved the way the set of this fabulous, over-the-top musical was a cramped New York apartment with a fold-out bed. Elements of the apartment would change, creating the different scenes, but you never forgot where you were. The play constantly reminded you of what it is that theater does, create an illusion, one that may seem very real for a moment, until the person next to you coughs, or your leg falls asleep, or the curtain falls, and you find yourself abruptly back in your own reality.

Later at Lamb's, over chocolate cake and raspberries, I asked Uncle Marc how he found out about this show; I'd never even heard of it.

"Well, it was one of about 260 musicals that I made illegal copies of from the library," he responded. "They are part of what brought me back from the edge. When I was first starting to recover and was not really able to think clearly yet, or was too depressed to get out of bed, I'd put on a musical. Nothing gets the blood pumping in the morning like a Broadway show! I'd read along with the lyrics, get to know the characters, learn the song. I found dozens of forgotten musicals that I had never heard of before. But this was one of my favorites and I kept coming back to it because I was Man in Chair. I was all alone in my apartment, clinging to musicals to get me through the day."

And with that, what was already a lovely, rare afternoon with three gentlemen, became much more. It was my uncle's way of sharing with people he loved just a little of what he had been through. I was honored to be there to share it.