Bob Greenberger

I joined a gaggle of colleagues last night to see a preview performance (hedging our bets a bit) and we uniformly adored it, most of us complaining about sore muscles from laughing so hard.

As you might be aware, Spamalot adapts the film Monty Python and the Holy Grail. All your favorite bits are there: the Knights who say Ni, the killer bunny, the insulting Frenchman, Bring out yer dead!”, and so on. What you might not be aware of is that the rest of the musical also deftly mixes a valentine to Broadway along with a thorough skewering of its current conventions. Andrew Lloyd Webber’s works get the most slings and arrows of outrageous parody but other standards of musical theatre get their comeuppance as well.

The leads were uniformly wonderful. In the second act, Pierce has a showstopper of a number, the subject involving their need to get to Broadway and put on a musical and they can’t do it without finding a Jew. While some of deep religious faith might be offended, none happened to be in the audience last night.

Many of the typical Python touches were present including animation, oversized cutouts of artwork that acted as scenery or clues. The singing and dancing was swell and we saw some of the fastest costume changes in memory that left us breathless. It wasn’t perfect mind you: some of the leads had trouble staying in synch with the others and not every joke made you guffaw. Curry flubbed a line (referring to Chicago, where they opened, rather than New York) but recovered very nicely.

Afterwards, Robbie and Peter David stood by the stage door hoping for autographs. Peter had with him an oversized killer bunny that he hoped would receive attention and signatures. Sure enough, all three leads came out and lingered a bit, signing and posing for some photos. And the rabbit amused all three and its vicious pink tongue now bears all three names. Robbie was thrilled to also get signatures, especially since he was familiar with the work of all three prior to the show.

He kept telling me what a wonderful day it was and thanking me.

Said day included spending the working hours at DC, making copies, doing homework, visiting with people. We dined at the TimeWarner cafeteria, overlooking Central Park since Deb insisted we take a look at the Gates while they were still there. While to some it was art, to me it was nothing at all. I was not awestruck nor was I moved. Christo’s work and goals elude me.

For dinner, we met up with our posse at Virgil’s for some fine barbecue. Our party included ringmaster Glenn Hauman, his delightful wife Brandy, David & Kara Mack, Peter & Kathleen David, the rarely seen Lisa Sullivan and the Golds: Mike, his wife Lynda and stepdaughter. Much laughter was had there, putting us in a fine mood for a fine night.

(Totally off topic, after watching bits of the press conference at the restaurant and reading detailed reports in the paper this morning, I have a message for Barry Bonds: You’re full of shit and get over yourself.)