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November 29th 1999 Bazza Hits Broadway
I was somewhat surprised to see that Barry Humphries is doing well on Broadway. Last time I saw Bazza was in the mid-eighties. Tickets were easy to come by then, at that down-point in his career. But even so, I was somewhat appalled to see someone who was once a top Australian satirist, acting like a cheap club performer, whilst performing solo at the Melbourne Arts Centre.
Spitting into the audience and guffawing, Humphries attempt at "audience participation" was only embarrassing. The targets of his attention were the old and overweight and I was shocked that Barry Humphries would stoop to the level of a third grade bully to get a cheap laugh. I have never found it amusing to hear people insulted because of their age or weight. Although he's getting good reviews in the New York press, one reviewer (New York Times 24th November) found the "audience participation" a bit strange. It seems that Bazza is up to his old tricks. Take this example of his "humour" on Broadway from a New York magazine feature article: "'I love that fabric," Dame Edna told an overweight woman a few weeks ago at a promotional event outside the Booth Theater. "You were lucky to find so much of it.'" (Eric Konigsberg, "The Fame of the the Dame"New York November 29) Despite his tendency to "prey on the weak" and his sadism, or maybe because of these traits, Humphries is doing well in the Big Apple. The New York Times stars his show "Dame Edna: The Royal Tour" as "recommended", and all the major reviews that I've read have been overwhelmingly positive. I'm starting to worry about signs indicating a new and regressive trend to revere all things monarchal. First over 50% of Australian voters elected to keep the queen. And now, Dame Edna is on Broadway wowing New Yorkers. Elizabeth Windsor, Dame Edna Everage - to those wanting bread and circuses it seems that there is still, "Nothing Like a Dame". Happy HolidaysIt is getting to be that time of year again. The holiday season is upon us. A particularly stressful time in New York City.The stress of the holiday season was brought home to me last Wednesday, the eve of Thanksgiving, when after a particularly stressful day, I caught the subway to Grand Central as a first stop on my way to dinner and the theater. Sitting in the carriage I started to feel like I was in the last chapter of Anna Karenina - the final train ride where she perceives everyone in the carriage as looking weird: distorted examples of humanity at its worst. In Anna's case the fellow passengers were distorted by her state of mind. Unfortunately, on Thanksgiving Eve in New York, my fellow passengers were just plain weird. One well-dressed professional woman was clipping her toenails. I was aghast. Was I hallucinating like Anna? But no. A quick glance at the other passengers put my mind at rest I was not going crazy. They were all, even the homeless man huddled in the corner under an army blanket, quite shocked. A man who looked like the stereotypical illegal immigrant as portrayed by the New York Post, was thrusting used batteries at passengers who were trying to ignore him. Straight out of the old Ellis Island print, he only needed a cardboard suitcase to complete the picture. In the corner opposite the homeless man, three office workers were discussing the day's events. One of them was getting very excited. Apparently he'd been told by his supervisor not to talk so loudly in the office. "I can talk any damned way I like, I told the sonofabitch", he screamed at the top of his lungs. He looked belligerently around the carriage as if expecting a challenge. "This is a clear case of discrimination of people with loud voices!" he bellowed. His co-workers were nodding sympathetically. On one side of the carriage an advertisement showed two yuppies in a rowboat in the middle of a serene lake, with the caption "The playground just keeps getting bigger". On the other side a series of photos showing battered women illustrated the fact that every 12 minutes a woman is beaten by her husband or lover. There is nothing as unsettling as facing sudden shifts of ambiance. As everyone jostled off the train and merged into the human mass making its way up the stairs into the main Grand Central foyer, I started to wonder what I was doing here. Then suddenly I was in the huge Grand Central Concourse. Always magnificent and awe-inspiring, the recent renovations to the reproduction of the Northern Hemisphere star constellations on the domed ceiling, have made this place spectacular. Emerging from the cramped escalators and tunnels into the luxurious open space of the Concourse, the crowd thinned and the hassle and hustle was forgotten. Scattered throughout the the huge foyer, scores of New Yorkers in black were standing perfectly still, their heads tilted back, staring at the dome above. Like innocent children they were gazing in wonder. The rush was forgotten. Above them a lighting display flashed fishes and holiday symbols on the surface of the replica of the Norther Hemisphere sky. For a brief moment it was peace on earth and goodwill to all. I gazed up like the others. Then I taking a deep breath, I made my way out to join the rest of New York's frazzled on 42nd Street. Pilgrims' Progress"Do you have Thanksgiving in Australia?" How often have I been asked that question? I usually mumble something about us not having pilgrims, and then get asked "but surely you have Christmas and Easter". I suppose it is all part and parcel of the American tendency to think America is the world. I should I suppose ask if America has ANZAC day or Australia Day - and yes, I HAVE been asked if we have the Fourth of July in Australia. Your Questions and CommentsKathy emailed:I read in an American paper someing about "preppies". It didn't make sense as they were adult people. In Australia preppies are children in the first grade at school. What is an American preppie? I'm not sure, Kathy. I know they are college (university) students and whenever I read about them there's the connotation that they are rich and privileged. I am sure a reader will write in with a proper definition. Brittany emailed: What season is it in Australia? Spring. |