Brevity is the soul of lingerie.
Two obscure plays that come to mind right away are one-acts:
Morning, by Israel Horovitz is about a black family who have taken a pill that has turned them white. It's meant to be played by white actors donning "black" accents, which is further complicated by the family's need to don "white" accents when they encounter their murderous bigot neighbor.
After Magritte, by Tom Stoppard. When I read this play, I didn't know who Magritte was. It inspired me to find out. I don't remember what it's about. I only remember laughing hysterically throughout.
Musicals: Well, Encores is doing A Tree Grows In Brooklyn this year, and it's a wonderful choice. It's the story of a shy girl who marries a heavy drinker. The daughter they have and the shy girl's not-so-shy sister are major characters. Amazing tunes - you'll recognize the first five notes of The Sound of Music; that's Richard Rodgers stealing from Arthur Schwartz - with perfect for the time and place lyrics by Dorothy Fields.
I love A Class Act and I'd even like to play the lead some day. It's the true life story of Ed Kleban, the lyricist of A Chorus Line, and the score is made up of his largely unknown songs. They've got lovely precision to them, and there's something exhilerating about hearing songs the writer so wanted you to hear.
When I had, briefly, the ear of one of the nabobs who choose Encores shows, I said "Please, before I die, Fanny" and, you know, it's not like I'm particularly near death. Fanny has its overly exotic moments, but it's extremely romantic, putting modern tripe like Phantom to shame. The cast includes Ezio Pinza and an unbelievably young Florence Henderson, who utters the sexiest bit of dialogue ever recorded on an original cast album. I'd tell you what it is, but I'd be blushing, and you just have to hear young Florence do it.
If we're talking albums, than the books of the shows aren't hampering our enjoyment. There's a show that left me scratching my head in the theatre, so weird and unstructured it was. But, on record, A New Brain has many a glorious moment, including what has become the most popular show-tune love song of the past decade, "Sailing." Mary Testa and Kristin Chenoweth have supporting roles.
Can a Rodgers and Hammerstein show count as obscure? Sure, if it's Me and Juliet. It also counts as radical. The opening number doesn't have orchestral accompaniment, just a little jazz combo (Barbara Carroll's - I think she's still around) and the same is true for the second number. While not fully avant garde, it manages to spoof avant garde theatre. There are a couple of clunkers, but mostly it's bright songs that form a valentine to the theatre itself. And the line "who cares if they lower the deficit as long as they cut my tax" never fails to astound me.
How many have I named? I've lost count. I was surprised that the PBS documentary failed to interview Strouse and Adams, who wrote many a fine show in their day. The obscure masterpiece of these is Golden Boy, which starred Sammy Davis Jr. I'm told there's something weird about the history of this album - Sammy went back and redid his vocals at some point. If you can get the original, do. It's still a Sammy-fest. You have to believe him as a boxer, of all things, but you'll understand what made him so appealing. The songs go from very sultry to peppy hard jazz, plus a couple of traditional musical comedy numbers and a gospel revival song (obligatory today, novel then).
Back to obscure plays:
Terrence McNally is very famous now, probably the American playwright with the highest quantity of plays being performed somewhere today. One of his earliest full-lengths is Where Has Tommy Flowers Gone? which tells the tale of a wandering hippie with great emotion.
I've long been fascinated by the main character's dilemma in Poor Murderer: He's an actor who's very believable on stage, but when he's not playing a role, nobody believes him. It's one of those cleverly-constructed things where the action parallels the play-within-the-play, which, in this case, is Hamlet. It's by Pavel Kohout, a Czech.
"If Heaven exists" (to quote someone quoting someone else) I hope it's somewhat like Bruce Jay Friedman's Steambath, a very funny and philisophical depiction of God (who hands out towels) and life after death. As you can tell, I'm attracted to the humorous and often-weird plays of the 1960s, but this one is grounded enough that it won't strike you as all that weird. It's only heaven.
