strandinthewind
07-21-2005, 04:32 PM
July 18, 2005
Self-Help Expert Gets Back Her Own
By CHARLES ISHERWOOD
Life has not always been kind to Suzanne Somers, the ex-sitcom star and perky pitchwoman who has brought her new solo show, "The Blonde in the Thunderbird," to the Brooks Atkinson Theater on Broadway for a limited run.
Dad was a big-time alcoholic, after all, and Joyce DeWitt, her "Three's Company" co-star, really could have been nicer.
But the ThighMaster has certainly been a loyal friend to Ms. Somers. As has the Home Shopping Network, on which she appears for 25 hours a month, flogging everything from waffle irons to cowboy boots. The best-seller lists have been accommodating too, making room for Ms. Somers's many diet and fitness books for extended periods.
Ms. Somers is, in short, probably not short on cash, which is why it seems forgivable to offer her this stern piece of advice: Should you brave Broadway again, dear, bring a sequin or two. Invest in some bugle beads. Hire a chorus boy or girl. Better yet, hire a half-dozen of each, in assorted sizes. (Perhaps they, too, can be acquired on the Home Shopping Network these days.)
You might even consider a reunion with Tanya the elephant, with whom you shared a friendly professional rapport in Las Vegas some years back, according to "After the Fall" (Crown, 1998), the second of two volumes of autobiography from which this show is adapted. (The first was "Keeping Secrets," Warner Books, 1988.) Perhaps Tanya can be coaxed into co-starring, if she hasn't moved on to that great Vegas showroom in the sky, or signed with Endeavor.
Something is desperately needed, in any case, to dress up "The Blonde in the Thunderbird," a drab and embarrassing display of emotional exhibitionism masquerading as entertainment. Attired in a cruelly clingy black tights-and-tunic ensemble, Ms. Somers re-enacts or describes triumphs and traumas from her personal and professional life for a grinding 95 minutes, on a stage adorned only by a pair of video screens, an armchair, a prop phone and a coat rack. (It is curious, and telling, that Ms. Somers's magnified, two-dimensional presence on the video screens continually draws the focus away from the woman herself.)
Devoted fans may savor this no-frills, quasi-intimate audience with a favorite celebrity and professional dispenser of uplifting advice, but others may find their attention wandering to the coat rack. And resting there.
Ms. Somers is certainly not afraid to tell all. We begin with a visit to her childhood home, a wasteland ruled by her raging alcoholic father, whom the kids could never please ("I just couldn't figure out how to be a good enough little girl to fix him," Ms. Somers recalls wistfully). We hear how, as a single mother, she swooned for her future husband, Alan Hamel, over a dinner of cracked crab. Mr. Hamel, who is also this show's producer, happened to be married at the time.
Cancer strikes, too, and is defeated, while, on a lighter note, Ms. Somers shares the psychological back story of Chrissy Snow, her dizzy character on "Three's Company" (basic recipe: heart, inner child; hair, Afghan hound).
Eventually and unsurprisingly, Ms. Somers emerges bruised but toughened by her battles with adversity. Her firing from "Three's Company," for instance, ultimately set the stage for a busy career marketing all that health, beauty and fitness gadgetry, an avocation of which she is impressively unashamed. At one point, Ms. Somers dashes offstage to return with a trolley stuffed with books and trinkets and costume jewelry, jubilantly detailing some of her favorites ("Like these pajamas? They come in black, blue and peach satin," she chirps).
Some of Ms. Somers's recollections are, regrettably, set to music. A performance of Frank Loesser's "Take Back Your Mink" is spliced into a recitation of a particularly violent encounter with her father. I'm not sure why. The show's writer-directors, Mitzie and Ken Welch, have also provided dreadful new lyrics for some old standards. Dorothy Fields and Jerome Kern's "Pick Yourself Up" is now a song about bouncing checks and seeking solace in shopping. Unfortunately, Ms. Somers's singing voice is thin and often toneless, and the clanging piano chords underscoring the more anguished moments in her history, usually accented by a dramatic clutch at expensively highlighted hair, are giggle-inducing.
Ms. Somers is undoubtedly sincere in her desire to bare her battles with insecurity and shame in order to serve as a model, and perhaps a healer, for those whose therapy cannot be subsidized by the sale of Torso Tracks. And her frankness about her family's destructive legacy of alcoholism, as first related in "Keeping Secrets," was no doubt comforting to many. But in "The Blonde in the Thunderbird" - the title refers to her cameo in "American Graffiti" - Ms. Somers and her collaborators have packaged her journey from damaged child to healthy woman in glib, shrink-wrapped vignettes that have all the emotional grit of an infomercial. Liberally laced with the bland jargon of self-help books, her story proves the peculiar truth that a victory over low self-esteem often comes at the price of a swan-dive into narcissism.
"I believe that everything that happened to me in my life is a blessing," Ms. Somers says in the show's waning moments, offering implicit comfort to those in the audience dogged by ill fortune. This is a simplistic and solipsistic philosophy to espouse, but it comforts me to know that Ms. Somers still believes this bromide, because, as even she would have to admit, the blessing I have hereby administered is unusually well disguised.
The Blonde in the Thunderbird
Written and directed by Mitzie and Ken Welch; conceived by Suzanne Somers, based on her books "Keeping Secrets" and "After the Fall"; sets and lighting by Roger Ball; sound by Robert Ludwig; technical supervisor, Tony Hauser; music direction and orchestrations by Doug Walter; music coordinator, John Miller; original music and lyrics by Mr. and Mrs. Welch; production stage manager, Robert Bennett. Presented by Alan Hamel. At the Brooks Atkinson Theater, 256 West 47th Street, Clinton; (212) 307-4100. Through Sept. 3. Running time: 1 hour 35 minutes.
WITH: Suzanne Somers.
from www.nytimes.com
Also:
SOMERS' TIME UP
Suzanne Somers' one-woman Broadway show, "The Blonde in the Thunderbird," will close after just an eight-day run.
By MICHAEL RIEDEL
July 20, 2005 -- Broadway Matinee
'THESE men are curmudgeons, and maybe I went too close to the bone for them. I was lying there naked, and they decided to kick me and step on me, just like these visions you see in Iraq," says Suzanne Somers of her treatment at the hands of New York's drama critics.
It may be the height of celebrity hubris to compare your bad reviews to Abu Ghraib, but Somers — an exaggerated entertainment personality if ever there was one — is not backing down.
She says she's "pissed" that the critics savaged her one-woman show, "The Blonde in the Thunderbird," and "saddened" that, because of their terrible notices, she's being forced to close it on Sunday.
It was scheduled to run until Sept. 3.
On Monday, the day reviews appeared, the box office took in about $5,000.
In the show, Somers speaks
candidly about her struggles in life
— an alcoholic father, teen pregnancy, bankruptcy, breast cancer.
"I laid out my life in all of its flawed ugliness, and I guess there was a part of me that hoped the critics would say, 'Wow!' "
What they said, in fact, was, "Yuck!"
Charles Isherwood, in the New York Times, called her show a "swan dive into narcissism."
(Somers says she'd like to tell Isherwood "to go to hell, and I don't care if he knows it.")
Clive Barnes, in The Post, said "Thunderbird" was "smug and remorseless."
And Michael Kuchwara of The Associated Press said it was a "therapy session crossed with a tacky Las Vegas review."
"I put my show out there with the cleanest of hearts and the best of intentions, and getting reviews like that hurt," Somers says.
"Barry Manilow said Broadway would break my heart, and it has."
A self-help guru who spent years in therapy, Somers says she allowed herself to "wallow in it" the day the notices appeared.
"It was hard for me. I was angry and depressed. I had a massage that day, and I asked the woman who worked on me to do some acupuncture for my emotions. I told her I was heartbroken. After the massage, she told me she came to the show on Friday and was so moved by it. She said: 'The men who write these reviews can't take it. It's too emotional for them.' "
It's significant, Somers believes, that the one decent review she got was from Linda Winer of Newsday, the only woman among New York's top theater critics.
Winer called Somers "bright and ebullient" and said the show was "slickly presented."
"There is something about me that connects with women," Somers says. "You'd think I would have a male following, but my demographics were always the highest in television with women."
Somers is hoping that her gal pack — "those ladies out there in Queens who watch me on TV" — will ignore the critics and flock to her show.
They won't be disappointed, she says.
"The fighter in me is back today. Even though I only have [seven] performances left, they're going to be great performances."
________________________________
the pic.
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v602/strandinthewind/18blonL.jpg
Self-Help Expert Gets Back Her Own
By CHARLES ISHERWOOD
Life has not always been kind to Suzanne Somers, the ex-sitcom star and perky pitchwoman who has brought her new solo show, "The Blonde in the Thunderbird," to the Brooks Atkinson Theater on Broadway for a limited run.
Dad was a big-time alcoholic, after all, and Joyce DeWitt, her "Three's Company" co-star, really could have been nicer.
But the ThighMaster has certainly been a loyal friend to Ms. Somers. As has the Home Shopping Network, on which she appears for 25 hours a month, flogging everything from waffle irons to cowboy boots. The best-seller lists have been accommodating too, making room for Ms. Somers's many diet and fitness books for extended periods.
Ms. Somers is, in short, probably not short on cash, which is why it seems forgivable to offer her this stern piece of advice: Should you brave Broadway again, dear, bring a sequin or two. Invest in some bugle beads. Hire a chorus boy or girl. Better yet, hire a half-dozen of each, in assorted sizes. (Perhaps they, too, can be acquired on the Home Shopping Network these days.)
You might even consider a reunion with Tanya the elephant, with whom you shared a friendly professional rapport in Las Vegas some years back, according to "After the Fall" (Crown, 1998), the second of two volumes of autobiography from which this show is adapted. (The first was "Keeping Secrets," Warner Books, 1988.) Perhaps Tanya can be coaxed into co-starring, if she hasn't moved on to that great Vegas showroom in the sky, or signed with Endeavor.
Something is desperately needed, in any case, to dress up "The Blonde in the Thunderbird," a drab and embarrassing display of emotional exhibitionism masquerading as entertainment. Attired in a cruelly clingy black tights-and-tunic ensemble, Ms. Somers re-enacts or describes triumphs and traumas from her personal and professional life for a grinding 95 minutes, on a stage adorned only by a pair of video screens, an armchair, a prop phone and a coat rack. (It is curious, and telling, that Ms. Somers's magnified, two-dimensional presence on the video screens continually draws the focus away from the woman herself.)
Devoted fans may savor this no-frills, quasi-intimate audience with a favorite celebrity and professional dispenser of uplifting advice, but others may find their attention wandering to the coat rack. And resting there.
Ms. Somers is certainly not afraid to tell all. We begin with a visit to her childhood home, a wasteland ruled by her raging alcoholic father, whom the kids could never please ("I just couldn't figure out how to be a good enough little girl to fix him," Ms. Somers recalls wistfully). We hear how, as a single mother, she swooned for her future husband, Alan Hamel, over a dinner of cracked crab. Mr. Hamel, who is also this show's producer, happened to be married at the time.
Cancer strikes, too, and is defeated, while, on a lighter note, Ms. Somers shares the psychological back story of Chrissy Snow, her dizzy character on "Three's Company" (basic recipe: heart, inner child; hair, Afghan hound).
Eventually and unsurprisingly, Ms. Somers emerges bruised but toughened by her battles with adversity. Her firing from "Three's Company," for instance, ultimately set the stage for a busy career marketing all that health, beauty and fitness gadgetry, an avocation of which she is impressively unashamed. At one point, Ms. Somers dashes offstage to return with a trolley stuffed with books and trinkets and costume jewelry, jubilantly detailing some of her favorites ("Like these pajamas? They come in black, blue and peach satin," she chirps).
Some of Ms. Somers's recollections are, regrettably, set to music. A performance of Frank Loesser's "Take Back Your Mink" is spliced into a recitation of a particularly violent encounter with her father. I'm not sure why. The show's writer-directors, Mitzie and Ken Welch, have also provided dreadful new lyrics for some old standards. Dorothy Fields and Jerome Kern's "Pick Yourself Up" is now a song about bouncing checks and seeking solace in shopping. Unfortunately, Ms. Somers's singing voice is thin and often toneless, and the clanging piano chords underscoring the more anguished moments in her history, usually accented by a dramatic clutch at expensively highlighted hair, are giggle-inducing.
Ms. Somers is undoubtedly sincere in her desire to bare her battles with insecurity and shame in order to serve as a model, and perhaps a healer, for those whose therapy cannot be subsidized by the sale of Torso Tracks. And her frankness about her family's destructive legacy of alcoholism, as first related in "Keeping Secrets," was no doubt comforting to many. But in "The Blonde in the Thunderbird" - the title refers to her cameo in "American Graffiti" - Ms. Somers and her collaborators have packaged her journey from damaged child to healthy woman in glib, shrink-wrapped vignettes that have all the emotional grit of an infomercial. Liberally laced with the bland jargon of self-help books, her story proves the peculiar truth that a victory over low self-esteem often comes at the price of a swan-dive into narcissism.
"I believe that everything that happened to me in my life is a blessing," Ms. Somers says in the show's waning moments, offering implicit comfort to those in the audience dogged by ill fortune. This is a simplistic and solipsistic philosophy to espouse, but it comforts me to know that Ms. Somers still believes this bromide, because, as even she would have to admit, the blessing I have hereby administered is unusually well disguised.
The Blonde in the Thunderbird
Written and directed by Mitzie and Ken Welch; conceived by Suzanne Somers, based on her books "Keeping Secrets" and "After the Fall"; sets and lighting by Roger Ball; sound by Robert Ludwig; technical supervisor, Tony Hauser; music direction and orchestrations by Doug Walter; music coordinator, John Miller; original music and lyrics by Mr. and Mrs. Welch; production stage manager, Robert Bennett. Presented by Alan Hamel. At the Brooks Atkinson Theater, 256 West 47th Street, Clinton; (212) 307-4100. Through Sept. 3. Running time: 1 hour 35 minutes.
WITH: Suzanne Somers.
from www.nytimes.com
Also:
SOMERS' TIME UP
Suzanne Somers' one-woman Broadway show, "The Blonde in the Thunderbird," will close after just an eight-day run.
By MICHAEL RIEDEL
July 20, 2005 -- Broadway Matinee
'THESE men are curmudgeons, and maybe I went too close to the bone for them. I was lying there naked, and they decided to kick me and step on me, just like these visions you see in Iraq," says Suzanne Somers of her treatment at the hands of New York's drama critics.
It may be the height of celebrity hubris to compare your bad reviews to Abu Ghraib, but Somers — an exaggerated entertainment personality if ever there was one — is not backing down.
She says she's "pissed" that the critics savaged her one-woman show, "The Blonde in the Thunderbird," and "saddened" that, because of their terrible notices, she's being forced to close it on Sunday.
It was scheduled to run until Sept. 3.
On Monday, the day reviews appeared, the box office took in about $5,000.
In the show, Somers speaks
candidly about her struggles in life
— an alcoholic father, teen pregnancy, bankruptcy, breast cancer.
"I laid out my life in all of its flawed ugliness, and I guess there was a part of me that hoped the critics would say, 'Wow!' "
What they said, in fact, was, "Yuck!"
Charles Isherwood, in the New York Times, called her show a "swan dive into narcissism."
(Somers says she'd like to tell Isherwood "to go to hell, and I don't care if he knows it.")
Clive Barnes, in The Post, said "Thunderbird" was "smug and remorseless."
And Michael Kuchwara of The Associated Press said it was a "therapy session crossed with a tacky Las Vegas review."
"I put my show out there with the cleanest of hearts and the best of intentions, and getting reviews like that hurt," Somers says.
"Barry Manilow said Broadway would break my heart, and it has."
A self-help guru who spent years in therapy, Somers says she allowed herself to "wallow in it" the day the notices appeared.
"It was hard for me. I was angry and depressed. I had a massage that day, and I asked the woman who worked on me to do some acupuncture for my emotions. I told her I was heartbroken. After the massage, she told me she came to the show on Friday and was so moved by it. She said: 'The men who write these reviews can't take it. It's too emotional for them.' "
It's significant, Somers believes, that the one decent review she got was from Linda Winer of Newsday, the only woman among New York's top theater critics.
Winer called Somers "bright and ebullient" and said the show was "slickly presented."
"There is something about me that connects with women," Somers says. "You'd think I would have a male following, but my demographics were always the highest in television with women."
Somers is hoping that her gal pack — "those ladies out there in Queens who watch me on TV" — will ignore the critics and flock to her show.
They won't be disappointed, she says.
"The fighter in me is back today. Even though I only have [seven] performances left, they're going to be great performances."
________________________________
the pic.
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v602/strandinthewind/18blonL.jpg