if anyone ( ! ) ever claims to like this play, they are lying. if they're not lying, they have incredibly bad taste and should never be taken seriously.
mims and i were lucky enough to get in for free. and even so, we went with open minds and open hearts, starving for a much needed dose of culture and the arts.
my first thoughts were somewhere along the lines of: oh! so this is a comedy. but then the punch line never came and i saw that some parishioners seated down two pews (if i may) were crying. clearly, i was mistaken. and for a moment, i thought maybe i should cry too. indeed, i was in pain.
i did find specks of merit in a few chord progressions, and while these could not save the show, the soundtrack is its best asset. that said, please rethink that pat on that back you may be about to offer dear old andy lloyd...because he's no master. even phantom, which is his best effort, isn't all that snazzy.
and so, through the first half we persevered. and when that was over, we fought our instincts and decided not to leave during intermission. yet, another example of how important those gut feelings can be.
the second half was plagued with a serious case of the eye rolls and our versions of a henry restless leg encounter. until at last, act ii was at a close and ted neely was condemned by pontius pilate to stop his country/rock screaming tirade.
please, please. i never want to hear the buzz and i never want to be told whats-a-happenin' ever again.
and i propose you spare yourself a show that tortures even it's characters. no need to get curious on that front.