Henry Krieger

And so it goes -- another production of Side Show leaves us. Its cult status will remain, untouched by mainstream attention. This is no surprise to those of us who follow such things. In fact, the surprise was that it came at all.
In 1997, a hauntingly beautiful and richly uncommon musical called Side Show opened on Broadway to critical acclaim. The show was based on the lives of the famous conjoined real-life twins who were headliners in the 1930s vaudeville circuit.
Bill Condon, aware of the controversy surrounding Side Show in its original production -- is it P.C. to focus on "freaks"-- said he is hoping for the day when reviews won't open with a comparison to its ill-fated first production. And now this production is meeting an ill fate all its own.
It hard to find the silver lining in the cold, blustery weather and increasingly shorter days that mark December in New York, but one thing is the guilt for staying indoors completely evaporates.
I saw it first. Well, not quite. The rapturous critical reception that has greeted the revival of Side Show on Broadway takes me back, way back, to a demonstration of Side Show's unique power that I witnessed firsthand quite some time ago.
As they used to say in the '20s and '30s and often on the midway, "Nice try, but no cigar."
My trip to the west coast is bringing me in contact with two shows I have an emotional attachment to: Side Show and The Black Suits.
It's easy to look at two friends (or lovers) who share a close rapport and wonder what attracts them to each other. But sometimes opposites not only attract, they can lead to the most unexpected kind of fame.
Although I did not get to see the world premiere of Everything's Ducky in 2000, I was delighted with its second incarnation, Lucky Duck, which was recently given a splendid production by the folks at Berkeley Playhouse.
From the very first beats of Henry Krieger's score, the new staging of Dreamgirls roars out of the opening gate and never slows down.