Culture and Whatnot

Sometimes, you experience something that, as the kids say, "just hits different".

Sunday evening, I took myself and my husband on a little jaunt to Franklin, TN.

First, we killed some time at Best Buy and Academy.  Neither are as fun as they used to be.

After that, dinner.  We sat on the patio at Granite Falls.  He had a hamburger and loaded waffle fries, I had a turkey sandwich and kettle chips.  The waiter accidentally poured me a Sprite rather than a club soda, but charming woman that I am, I didn't say anything, and knocked it back like a survivor.  Subsequent refills were club soda, which is good.  One Sprite, lovely.  Many Sprites, unpleasant.  

The loaded waffle fries would have been a better side dish, as I tasted Matt's and they were great.  Otherwise, no regrets - and honestly, I think the chips were a better choice, given that after dinner, we headed to Franklin Theater.  Carb-loading before a show can be a disaster.

The show was one I saw advertised maybe six weeks ago, and went ahead and bought tickets for.  It was for a show called Mister Romantic.  It was a cabaret/vaudeville type show that was fronted by John C. Reilly.

Yeah, that John C. Reilly.  Aka Steve Brule, Stepbrother, Cal Naughton, Mr. Cellophane, Dewey Cox himself.

Now, I love John C. Reilly.  I like big, funny, gentle giants so much, I married one. So, I've been a fan for some time.

So, here's the deal with this show.

It starts with four musicians coming in from the back of the theater.  A coronet/accordion player, a man carrying bells, one with a violin, one with a guitar.  Guitar and bell guy also play piano and upright bass, respectively once they get to the stage.  Then two of them roll a massive steamer trunk onto the stage.

On the side of the trunk is painted, "Mister Romantic".

Mister Romantic (Reilly) emerges from the trunk, dressed in early1900s faux formal.  A long coat with tails, white shirt. black tie, black pants, boots, and a bowler hat.  Hair askew, greasepainted cheeks and nose.  Chaplin meets Laurel meets Hardy meets WC Fields, maybe?  

He explains that he lives in that trunk.  He doesn't know how he got there, or what happens once he goes back in.  But when they let him out, he has to put on a show.  And he also has to find true love.  Someone who will love him, forever.  If he fails, back into the trunk until the next show.

And then he sings. Love songs. Sad ones, mostly.  Old standards.  Beautifully.  Not perfectly, but with feeling.  And then he goes into the audience and talks with people to try to get them to love him.  He shows them his heart (a drawing on a card) - he asks them to look inside his heart and answer him, can they love him forever.  Alas, the answer is always no (I assume that the card has instructions to please reject him for the sake of the construct of the show).  We talked about this on the ride home.  Because you are depending on your audience to do the right thing and play along, it's hard to move outside the confines of his call-and-response.  But after each rejection, he heads back to the stage for another few songs. 

And at the end of the night, he asks to take a picture of the audience.  Because even if he didn't find love, he has found human connection, and that's important, too.  He pantomimes using an ancient camera with flash powder.  Pockets the picture, and climbs back in his trunk.  The musicians roll him offstage, then exit the same way they came in.

Obviously, I loved it.  Walking back to the car, I heard the two younger men behind us talking about how they didn't really get it, and that maybe they were too young for the show.  I think they had hoped for extreme-goofball John C. Reilly, and that a standards crooning vaudevillian wasn't what they had expected. 

As someone who has felt acute loneliness, even in a crowded room, the show resonated with me.  He also sang some great tunes.  Blue Skies; I'll Be Seeing You; My Echo, My Shadow and Me. He also had some excellent pantomime and dance moves.  He was really made to perform vaudeville.  

And because John C. Reilly doesn't need the money, you get the feeling he did this because he loves it, and it feeds his soul.  Otherwise, why come do a few shows in a tiny theater in Franklin, Tennessee on a Sunday night?

And knowing that, and respecting that feeds my soul - even a few days later. 

So if you live anywhere that you have access to see this show (more dates are coming), then DO IT. 

Unless you're wanting Talladega Nights JCR - in which case, save the money and stream that.  It's great.  Different.  Maybe not better...but great.