Wow.
Just wow.
I have actually shared the stage with Bernadette Peters.
I’ve heard it said that Marilyn Monroe could walk down the street in “Norma Jeane Baker” mode, and nobody would notice her. But as if flicking a switch, she went into “Marilyn Monroe” mode, and drew a crowd.
That’s the kind of transformation I witnessed yesterday. Our final rehearsal in the afternoon included a petite lady, a little shorter than her “official” height of 5’3”, dressed in jeans, a hoodie, sandals and hair in curlers, with minimal makeup. She was very sweet and professional, and her singing voice was warm and clear, but it was obvious that she was holding back, saving her voice.
Fast forward to last night, when a spotlight hit that petite lady, and Bernadette Peters was born. Dressed in a gorgeous sequined gown that looked almost transparent from a distant, but was actually silver and gold from two feet away (yes, I was that close!!!), a gown that accentuated all her curves and made her look actually statuesque, with a slit up the front, with her trademark mane of hair that seemed at times to be her co-star.
She just totally owned the 2300-person(!!!) audience, from the first time she opened her mouth, and it was so obvious that she enjoyed the experience every bit as much as the audience . . . doing a lot of adlibbing between the songs . . . even introducing former-Mousketeer Cubby O’Brian, who put his wrists on his temples, and flashed mouse ears at the audience.
But oh, the songs! Obviously several Sondheim songs, including the one we did with her. (Our original contract was for a half-hour set of our own, followed by an intermission, then her 70-minute set. Many of us refused to do it unless we could do at least one song *WITH *her. The obstacle wasn’t her, but her “people.” Once we communicated with her directly, she immediately agreed, and suggested Sondheim’s “You Could Drive a Person Crazy.”)
Obviously she worked magic with the Sondheim numbers, but there were three others that stood out as simply unforgettable experiences.
The first was “There is Nothing Like a Dame,” which she totally transformed from its usual outdated sexism to an unbelievably sexy statement of female identity with not a trace of sexist condescention. She ran the gamut of expression from a belting Ethel Merman to a sultry Eartha Kitt, and everything inbetween, while making it unmistakably Bernadette Peters.
Then she did “Fever,” after telling us that this will be the first time she has ever performed it. On the piano. You know, *ON * the piano . . . doing all the provocative moves you’d expect from a woman a fraction of her age, and totally blowing away all the historic competition, including Miss Peggy Lee. Once again, she made that song her own.
About halfway through her set, she told us that a particular song had entered her head one day and wouldn’t leave, begging to be sung. The song was “Shenandoah,” and there were no theatrics, no emotional roller coaster . . . the woman simply stood there and sang. It was breathtaking in its simple purity.
The experience of actually singing with her onstage . . . I remember it, not as a continuous experience, but as a series of discrete feelings and images. I remember the stage manager reminding us that we had to smile and sparkle and dazzle during the song, as if we needed to be told to do something that we couldn’t *NOT *do. I remember noticing silly things, like the pattern of sequins on her gown . . . her boobs . . . how her hair was so much fuller and longer than it had been in rehearsal . . . and wondering if I wasn’t smiling a little too broadly (it’s a rather angry song, after all) . . . and trying, in spite of everything, to remember all the lyrics . . . and especially, the most important thing: just singing my own part, and not hers.
And then it was over. We left the stage and joined the audience for the rest of the show. And now I’m sitting here, and it seems so long ago already. And of course the usual post-concert depression. We’ve been working toward this experience for literally *YEARS, *and it’s coming, and it’s coming, and it’s coming, and in a seemingly singular moment . . . it’s over. But not gone.
Now here is something absolutely astounding: Many of us spoke with audience members after the show. Most of these people had come to see Bernadette Peters, and had never heard of, or at least seen, the North Coast Men’s Chorus. So it was mind-boggling to hear how many of them enjoyed our set more than hers! And they couldn’t believe that we are a group of amateur singers and dancers. One woman told me that Bernadette should have been *OUR *opening act!!! My brain struggles to make sense out of this, and just gives up trying.
So. In case you’re wondering, here’s the program (and all the dancers are members of the chorus; we have our own professional choreographer, and it’s amazing what she can do with untrained dancers):
NORTH COAST MEN’S CHORUS set:
“Bye Bye Blackbird,” choreographed in the style of Fosse, dancers dressed in black, with bowler hats and white gloves
“The Spark of Creation,” from Children of Eden
“Into the Fire,” from The Scarlet Pimpernel
“In Whatever Time We Have,” from Children of Eden
“Coffee in a Cardboard Cup,” from *And the World Boes Round, *with totally frenetic choreography by the entire chorus
“Stand Up for Love”
“Heart and Music,” from A New Brain
“If My Friends Could See Me Now,” from *Sweet Charity, *with tap dancers, only a few of whom had ever tapped before
INTERMISSION
BERNADETTE PETERS set:
“Let Me Entertain You”
“No One Is Alone”
“There is Nothing Like a Dame”
“Fever”
“Unexpected Song”
“Mr. Snow” from Carousel
“Some Enchanted Evening”
“Shenandoah”
Disney Medley: “When You Wish Upon a Star” / “A Dream Is a Wish Your Heat Makes”
“Johanna,” from Sweeney Todd
“Not a Day Goes By”
“You Could Drive a Person Crazy,” with the Chorus
“With So Little to Be Sure of” / “Children Will Listen”
“Being Alive”
Encore: “Kramer’s Song,” which Bernadette wrote, as a lullaby to her dog.
