— Nick's Guff —

Vampires Suck on Broadway. Truly.

Today’s Guff is co-sponsored by Jeff DF.

In the middle of what was proving to be an impossibly crappy day, a friend at work and I decided to reach out for some comfort food—chicken gyro platters. As we chatted, he mentioned he had seen perhaps the most atrocious Broadway display of all time the previous evening. This of course was also coming from a true buff of the theater. Intrigued as I was, I begged, “Do tell!” Tell he did. Here’s his review of the new play “LESTAT”, currently in previews. Consider this not so much “Guff” but a Broadway Public Service Announcement courtesy of the dynamic Jeff DF:

Impossible to sum up the Promoter tells them they can get it for five dollars. that is the execrable LESTAT (a musical, natch), but imagine casting ponytailed Michael Bolton, circa 1988, as the vampire himself, costumed in thigh-high leather trannie hooker boots and a half-fastened Aeropostale leather bomber jacket. Add Meat Loaf-style power ballads (composed by Elton John & Bernie Taupin, who must be stopped before they strike again)—each ballad as mind-numbing as the one performed minutes earlier—and an occasional dance break courtesy of the folks who stage Disney theme park productions: a troupe of wholesome, ridiculously multi-ethnic townsfolk smoking corn cob pipes, grinning and shuffling about old (and thoroughly sanitized) New Orleans, singing cheerfully about “The New World” while dancing a reel wearing a peasant skirt snagged at a dollar store on St. Mark’s place. Oh, and throw in a bunch of mincing, fanged faggots—er, eunuchs—two of whom adopt Veruca Salt and set up house as her gay fathers. Let Veruca belt a number that’s part Patty McCormack in The Bad Seed, part American Idol audition, then faux-incinerate a few undead behind a fake band of fire jets and put the survivors on a giant tire and shoot them up to heaven, Grizabella-style. Don’t forget to humiliate a great Broadway performer (Carolee Carmello) along the way, and include a Playbill bio of Anne Rice that is so preening and self-serving a sickness bag is required to read it. Urp.

I know, we’re probably thinking the same thing—this is bound to be a smash hit like Cats. Cats for Pete’s sake! I still can’t get over that.

Next Stop: Moscow Cats Theatre.