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When I was a kid, there were occasional one-man theatrical shows depicting great American men of the 19th and early 20th centuries: Abraham Lincoln live on stage, Mark Twain, of course, Teddy Roosevelt.
Then, a few years ago, I noticed that this genre had both morphed and expanded. A different kind of celebrity had become fodder for celebrity impersonation in the theater. At that moment the subjects of choice were gay men and the larger-than-life women gay men loved: Truman Capote and Oscar Wilde, Maria Callas and Diana Vreeland.
Theater experts told me then that the fad had pretty much peaked. But those experts, I noticed the other day, were mistaken. There are currently a half-dozen bio-dramas and bio-musicals running in New York -- most of them meta-entertainments about the lives of entertainers, performers playing other performers.
There's Say Goodnight Gracie, in which an actor impersonates the late George Burns. The title is a reference, of course, to his wife and comedy partner Gracie Allen, who died rather young, in 1964. There's Tea At Five, in which an actress impersonates Katherine Hepburn...and reminisces about her beloved Spencer Tracy, who died in 1967.
There's Lost Highway, about the life and music of the country & western singer Hank Williams, who died tragically young in 1953. There's The Jacky Wilson Story, about the life and music of the R & B singer who died poor and tragically young in 1984.
And there's Dream A Little Dream, about the life and music of the folk rock band the Mamas and the Papas...including Mama Cass Elliot, who died tragically young in 1972.
So why all this biographical theater?
Musicians' lives in particular are appealing to producers, because as subjects they make natural musicals -- musicals in which breaking into song never seems bizarre.
But the phenomenon generally is about cultural conservatism: producers are drawn to this material because audiences are drawn to it. And audiences are drawn to it because it's all pre-digested, pre-marketed, safe: the characters and their stories are already established in people's minds, famous and familiar before the shows even open. People come to the theater knowing pretty much exactly what to expect.
Which is slightly depressing. Because aren't our most thrilling and memorable moments in theaters when we're surprised, amazed, even shocked by something altogether fresh?
Some of these shows are good pieces of work. But there are so few slots for new plays and musicals in the big-time theater these days, it seems like the culture is punting when so many of those slots are occupied by shows about people and stories we already know.
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