Children Will Listen (and talk through the film anyway)

Unlike most gays, I do not have a long emotional history with Into the Woods. I have seen it a good deal and sobbed in the shower to "No One Is Alone" enough times via Pandora to know I'm gayer than Bernie Telsey - and if you know who that is, so are you.

I was even called back for the role of Jack twice in my life. The first time was in college, but once I heard they were setting it in a refugee camp and Jack was singing "Giants in the Sky" as bullets were being fired at him, I said, "NOPE!" and spent the night binge drinking with a few friends. Thank God I did, because we still tell the best story about a dare involving vodka-soaked tampons.

The second callback was for the recent production in Central Park. I was deemed "not ugly enough," (hearsay from my agents) which I tried to take as a compliment, but I cried anyway. For the sake of the art. But good for you, Gideon Glick.

Thus, going into the film, I felt no strong emotions whether the movie would be a hit or a flop. I had heard all versions of reviews since it seemed every Queen in New York had an in to a screening and a need to overshare via Facebook.

So when the ticket taker sadly questioned, "Just one?" as I struggled to pass him my stub while juggling my large popcorn and soda, I held my head high and went Into the Woods. 

And it was fine for a piece of theatre that's humor is successful based on its awareness of being a piece of live theatre. It was kind of like reading an opera. It's just not how it was meant to be seen.

Yes, I get it, this is important for spreading awareness of theatre. We must continue to make it commercially approachable and continue to expand the careers and wheelhouses of award winning actors. Otherwise, how will the rest of us be able to dream we can do it too? I agree.

The emotion of the movie hit me when the old gay man down the aisle from me shuffled past a second time during "Moments in the Wood," and I knew he would not return. Just like that poor baker's wife. I wanted to shout, "Wait! I'm sure 'No One Is Alone' will really bring it home," and it did. I wept.

Then a bunch of CGI happened, and the characters sat down for story time in a weird half-assed wrap-up, and I knew that old man had gone home to play the original Broadway recording on Netflix.

To turn a phrase of Sondheim himself:

"But if life were made of good films, then you'd never know you saw one."

I could still play Jack,

TJB: Making It