It was one of those nights that comes along very rarely, even though it should be a regular thing.
Only moments before Ken Page was announced to the stage of 54 Below last evening, KT Sullivan could be heard to say, "This is the place to be tonight!" And she was right. She was as right as she could be. Everyone was there. Brenda Braxton was as glamorous as anyone on the red carpet at the Met Gala. Alec Baldwin grinned from ear to ear with adoration. Donna McKechnie, Linda Twine, and Baayork Lee shared a table with Richard Jay-Alexander. Mark Sendroff and Pascal Pastrana cheered loudly and lustily during the curtain call. Karen Akers and Lee Roy Reams posed for photos from their booth at the back. Ron Abel and KT Sullivan twirled white napkins in the air, and the Sorokoffs socialized while snapping shots of all of the glitterati. Richard Skipper shimmered in sparkly top, Valerie Dowd stood statuesque in sleek pantsuit, and rugged Russell Scott Lewis beamed as he awaited the post-show arrival into the room of the star of AIN'T MISBEHAVIN' and NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS. Cabaret aficionada and Feinstein's regular Gail Gordon was overheard saying, "There's never been anything like this before!" and she was right.
54 Below was, indeed, the place to be last night. And if the show business gods were feeling at all generous, they would ensure a command performance as many times as Ken Page were so inclined to it. This was special.
We New Yorkers (and the people who visit our fair city) are so lucky there exists this magical place called Feinstein's/54 Below, for the supper club in the basement has protected us, lo, these many years. It has protected us from a life without the great talents of Broadway. We have decades' worth of great performing artists who have made their mark on The Great White Way but who have been circulated out of the center spotlight by a world and an industry obsessed with what is new and what is youthful. There isn't enough work to go around for actors, especially those with seniority in the business; so those icons and legends who are the artists that made Broadway what it is, the artists who are the living history of the business, can't be seen at the craft that has made them famous. Newsflash: even icons and legends want to work. Even icons and legends have to pay their bills. Even icons and legends want to create. So they take their acts on the road, they play the provinces in one-person shows, nightclub acts, and regional theater and New Yorkers have to buy a plane ticket and go out of town to see these icons and legends who should be on Broadway, as they ply their craft.
In the absence of a Broadway gig, there is always 54 Below.
Thanks to Feinstein's we have been given ten years of Broadway icons and legends as they do what they do best: entertain. There have been ten years of up-close, personal, intimate evenings with the beautiful people who have made Broadway what it is, people that we want to see and who, thanks to Feinstein's, we can. And aren't we so much the better for it?
Last night was Ken Page's night and we were all so much the better for it. Only it should have been a week. Or, even better, it should be a residency. Everybody needs to see Ken Page. Everybody deserves to see Ken Page. And Ken Page deserves to be seen.
One of the great character actors of the industry, Ken Page was resplendent in head-to-toe glamor, and in as great voice as ever as, for ninety minutes, he regaled a rapt and rapturous audience with stories from his life and career, comments on the world in which we live (some heartfelt and some deliciously shady), and one magnificent musical number after another - musical numbers displaying that which everyone has known for years but can always enjoy a reminder of: Ken Page can do anything. Whether working with musical theater by way of Hello, Dolly!, The Wiz, Seesaw, and Guys And Dolls, or singing delectably dirty honky tonk music from the first half of the last century, Ken Page is a musical storyteller who can work within any genre of music. There were some blues, there was some jazz, there was some pop, there was some rock, there was everything in life last night as the black lacquered nails of Ken Page floated through the air expressively during a tear-inducing "Soon It's Gonna Rain" and black lacquered Carrie Donovan specs flew off of his face for a spot-on impression of Mr. Sondheim. It was clear that Mr. Page was working from a meticulously crafted script but no amount of writing could possibly create the laughs experienced from the stage. Ken Page is simply the funniest human on earth, throwing out asides that drew the audience up out of their chairs and drew their hearts to his, as he dispensed advice for the youngsters and dolled out love for each and every friend that he could spot through the impeccable lighting of the evening. It would appear that the gentleman can do an impression of anyone - not just Mr. Sondheim, but also the likes of Mother Eartha Kitt, the late Nell Carter, and (of course) Miss Carol Channing, too (and, honestly, there were times throughout the show that one might find oneself thinking, "He IS Pearl Bailey!). This was no cabaret show. This was a concert, like the ones you see on TV by Barbra Streisand. It was superbly crafted, expertly directed by Richard Jay-Alexander, unbelievably orchestrated and arranged by Joseph Joubert, and then presented as though Ken Page were playing the London Palladium, the Hollywood Bowl, or Madison Square Garden - the only difference is that he was playing 54 Below, where the audience could be lucky enough to have Ken Page so close as to be in their living room.
Particular highlights (for this writer, at least, because every audience member will pick something different that resonated with them) were one of the most vulnerable and tender "Anyone Can Whistle"s of all time, an introduction to "Betty and Dupree" in that inimitable Ken Page style, and all the humanity and pathos possible during his longtime finale number "Shambala" - a gift from his friend Russell Scott Lewis. In spite of the greatness to be found in each and every musical number, whether a brilliantly arranged "Don't Rain on My Parade" or a completely unexpected mashup of songs originally performed by a trio of strippers and a gang of Jets, the true treat for this reporter was just being in the room to see the life. Ken Page might be more alive than anyone any of us knows. When Page says, "I'm still here, baby!" there is reason for celebration: he isn't just still here, baby, he is a ball of fire bigger and brighter than the sun. And although this writer could wax poetic on Page's performance for another few paragraphs, the true review actually comes in a most economic observation from my husband, Pat Dwyer, a beautiful actor who said to me, as we walked home from the show:
"He's so present, in every moment. It's all new and happening right now - he can go anywhere and do anything in that spotlight. Many performers practice and practice and practice, but it doesn't free them, it holds them prisoner. It's obvious Ken Page has rehearsed this show, and all that practice has done is give him freedom: when a moment arrives during the storytelling, whatever the moment, whatever the story, all he has to do is open the door and walk in."
That's what happened last night during the show THERE'S SO MUCH TO TALK ABOUT... (AND SING ABOUT, TOO!). Ken Page opened the door and walked in. He gave that audience a night they won't soon forget... if ever.
The extraordinary THERE'S SO MUCH TO TALK ABOUT... (AND SING ABOUT, TOO!) band was Peter Douskalis on guitar, Jerry DeVore on bass, Perry Cavari on drums, John Walsh on trumpet and Musical Director Joseph Joubert on piano.
THERE'S SO MUCH TO TALK ABOUT... (AND SING ABOUT, TOO!) was executive produced by Nellie Beavers.
Find great shows to see on the 54 Below website HERE.
Ken Page has a Facebook page HERE.
Photos by Stephen Mosher
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