Light and hearty observations from a fat and ugly guy. Home of hackneyed drivel and ersatz-existentialist effluence. Choleric biliousness a specialty, since 1958.

The musical at the retirement facility

Where to begin? Oh, yes, let's put it this way: at one point I was really glad I was wearing brown pants.

Because I was shitting myself laughing! But I had to laugh secretly, to myself, without being heard by the 250 senior citizen geezers and wheezers surrounding me.

The deal was: last night, at the old folks home where my mother and her husband reside, they put on a broadway revue, and mummy was in it. Show tunes, with little bits of commentary courtesy of the MC: the one person in the place who can still a) stand up and b) read from a script without resorting to tri-focals. It was a command performance, as in mother "commanded" me to be there. So, naturally, I went prepared to hate every fucking minute.

On they came, first song: "Our Favorite Things". And they were LIP-SYNCHING! To the bloody official broadway recording! This wasn't how mummy had described it to me in advance; I thought they were really gonna sing! But noooooooooo!

Picture in your mind: a makeshift stage, garishly spotlighted, the crowded room hot and muggy, the sound punctuated by the sharp electronic intake/outtake of various respirators. And there, on stage, 25 Medicare recipients all dressed in costume...and being Milli Vanilli. Not singing. Just mouthing the words. It was all mis-timed and hilarious: one guy doing a solo version of "The Impossible Dream" kept his mouth open in a big "O" shape 5 full seconds after the vocalist on the recording had stopped singing.

It went on and on and on and on, lasting nearly two hours. Two hours, I kid you not.

The first "nearly crapped my pants laughing" moment occurred 9 songs in, when the stage, dimly lit, was taken by an 87 year old woman dressed head to toe in a cat suit, complete with whiskers. There, posing next to a "streetlight", she attempted to mime the words to "Memory". She couldn't walk so well, so stood stock still the entire time, just throwing her arms up and down, mouth movements not exactly timed perfectly to the song. And at this point, I lost it.

Have you ever tried to laugh just to yourself? I completely bit off the entire inside of my lower lip. Tears were streaming out of my eyes as I giggled silently, my shoulders shaking. But at the end of this one song, the audience went berserk (as only old people can)....some of them even took out their teeth and rattled them together in applause. Think: lighters held aloft at a concert. Here, it was dentures snapping together at a disaster.

It got better. They did like, five songs from Oliver. Oliver was a 92 year old midget woman, with a hearing aid and a bad case of osteoporosis. Cast obviously because she was height challenged and so was at least the same size as a little kid, she, too, had problems remaining both upright and with the lip synching. Maybe her hearing aid wasn't turned up loud enough to take in the recording. I don't know.

All this was pulled together by a resident with theatre experience. He was 85 years old, very "flourishy", and he had the stones about 5 songs before it ended to take a little interlude on the mike where he thanked everyone and then demanded a standing ovation at the end from the audience! I thought this was particularly ballsy given how many in attendance had obviously lost the use of their legs many years before.

There's more, but you get the idea. Finally and blessedly over, came then the attempt to leave the building. Egress was hampered by all the bloody wheelchairs and walkers. I only knocked down one old lady in the stampede to the door, so I don't feel so bad.

posted by Nigel St.John Regina Smegmatica Howle-Raines @ 9:33 AM