At the top of last night’s ASSSSCAT performance, Amy Poehler joked that she was superexcited about this year’s New Year’s slogan: “Two-thousand mine.” In fact, 2009 probably will belong to her.

The 9:30pm show at the Upright Citizens Brigade Theatre was the comedian’s last before heading to L.A. to shoot her new NBC series, which will air later this year. (It’s now dubbed “The Untitled Amy Poehler Project”; creators Greg Daniels and Mike Schur finally got people to stop calling it “The Office spin-off.”)

As the last member of the original Upright Citizens Brigade in New York, she’ll be sorely missed at the long-running Sunday night improv shows (last night’s also featured 30 Rock’s Jack McBrayer and John Lutz, former SNL player Horatio Sanz, and Conan writers Kevin Dorff and Brian Stack).

However, we have a feeling she’ll be back sporadically, and perhaps for longer, once shooting has wrapped for the season: Word on the street is that she much prefers New York.

Read our recent interview with Poehler and the rest of the original UCB.

After nearly seven years and eight Tonys, Hairspray sang its last song on Sunday, January 4. The previous night, an hour before curtain for the last public performance (Sunday’s matinee was strictly for friends and family), TONY hurried through the theater’s narrow corridors, snagging a few minutes here and there with the cast and crew who’d been with the show since the beginning. Check out the slide show, then read the interviews.

PHOTOGRAPHS BY DAVID ROSENZWEIG

Clarke Thorell (original Corny Collins, returned)

How does it feel now that the show is closing, for money reasons?
It’s impossible not to wax nostalgic at a time like this. But at the same time, the nature and the message of the show are so overwhelmingly positive and enthusiastic, especially in this sociopolitical climate. With everything happening in the next couple of months and four years, you can’t help but feel that we’ve changed people. If one person per show walks out of this theater with a little bit more of an expanded way of thinking in terms of tolerance—and to quote one of the lines in the finale, “Tomorrow is a brand new day and it don’t know black from white.” It’s so timely.

Are you afraid for Broadway now?
I’m not afraid for Broadway. I think that any type of little heart attack, or major shift like this is going to make way for new growth and life. It’s just kind of the way I have to look at it, or else I’ll be depressed [Laughs]. [We pass Marisha Ploski, the stage manager, in the stairway as she yells to all who can hear, “It’s Saturday night on Broadway, y’all!”]

What are you doing next?
I’m working on a development and production company with friends of mine, and I’m also doing more TV and film. I shot a film with Sam Rockwell that’s going to be in Sundance in January, called The Winning Season. And a small recurring role on a new NBC episodic called Kings.

Marissa Jaret Winokur (original Tracy Turnblad, returned)
Scott Wittman (lyricist)

What’s different about this closing than others you’ve experienced?
Marissa: Usually it’s one or two people leaving the show and it’s so sad. But this is like the entire theater going down. They should blow up the theater when this is over.

And for you Scott? It’s your baby.
Scott: It’s like the Ford plant in Detroit closing, and everyone’s out of work. The mayor should’ve bailed out Broadway. But six and a half years, I can’t complain about it. It’s made a lot of people stars.

What’s going through your heads on these last few nights?
S: [Laughs] What can you steal?
M: Literally, I’m taking all my shoes and going to donate them to Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS, sign them. Whatever’s not nailed down.
S: People have been appearing in the show who are normally not in the show.
M: Marc Shaiman came out as the flasher in “Good Morning Baltimore.” I sang, “There’s the flasher,” and he came by in pink panties. Everyone on the stage was laughing. And it’s been great; he’s been playing in the orchestra a lot. Obviously, that’s how it began, with Marc playing the piano and us singing along with him.

What’s next for both of you?
M: I’m going back to L.A. where it’s warm. I have a new TV show called Dance Your Ass Off on Oxygen, so I start going into production with that right when I get back.
S: We wrote another show that starts in June in Seattle, where this started. Catch Me If You Can—it’s a musical of that. With actually a lot of the same crew.

Marisha Ploski, original stage manager
Lois Griffing, production stage manager, three years
Lon Hoyt, original music director and conductor

What happens to the set?
Marisha: It goes to storage and I think there’s a possibility of it being sold.
Lois: There’s interest from some people of other companies and that sort of thing. You try to get your money back in any way that you can.

What happens to costumes?
Marisha: The wardrobe supervisor and her assistant are doing the same thing. They’re categorizing each costume, making sure everything is stored correctly, so that if, as Lois said, the show is bought, maybe three different companies could be made out of the one.

The final couple nights, has anyone pulled anything?
[They all laugh, loudly.]
Lon: People have been puling things for about six and a half years. Small things. Occasionally there’s an extra thing in somebody’s hand, or a game of pass the object during the show.

Like what?
Lon: Could be a small action figure,
Marisha: A note, or something will come out of someone’s breast or whatever.
Lon: Or somebody’s standing in the wings and, “Oh, my pants fell down!”

Todd Michel Smith (original IQ)

You’ve been in the show since it started. How has the audience changed over the years?
The first year they were euphoric. They were crazy and they couldn’t get enough of us. That was the New York audience and they were knowledgeable and they knew how to respond and they knew that this type of show doesn’t come around as often. Their response was unbelievable. The cool thing is that even after that audience started to segue into the more touristy, out-of-town audience—

How long before that happened?
About the second, third year into the fourth, fifth year, you started to see even the foreign audiences, that didn’t even understand what the heck we were saying or singing—they didn’t laugh at the same jokes—you still, no matter what, at the end of the show, got the same response. You got people standing, jumping to their feet, screaming, laughing, sometimes crying with joy. I’ve done a lot of shows in my 15 years in New York and I’ve never gotten the responses that I got from this show. We always said we were blessed with an amazing finale and I think that had a lot to do with it, but we also had a great show.

Now as you come to last finale, what’s going through your head as you’re waiting in the wings to go on?
It’s just this really crazy juxtaposition of business as usual—because I’ve done it for six and a half years, like somewhere around 2,500 or 2,600 performances—and this flood of raw emotion every night for the past two weeks. Marissa’s only been back with us for like a month, but whenever I would see her and she’d look at me in a certain way, it would take me back to [2002 out-of-town tryouts in] Seattle or to the four weeks we spent in New York rehearsing the show originally. Today, she looked at me, and took her hand and did this on my face [Runs his hand down the side of his face] and I broke down. And the whole number I was smiling and dancing—and tears were running down my face, snot was running down my face.

Judine Somerville (original Dynamite)
Marc Shaiman, composer and lyricist

You and Todd are the only ones who’ve been here the whole time. Does that give you some sort of seniority?
Judine: It is seniority, we’ve been here the longest, but I just feel it’s a real honor and privilege to be in a show that you love to do. My mother used to say, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, so this has been pretty fantastic.

But now it’s breaking.
J: I think of it like, Hairspray saved my life, gave me life, and now it’s giving me wings. And I’m really sad, I’m really gonna miss the camaraderie in the dressing room.

What’s it like in the dressing room now?
J: Tonight is just an extra buzz, because we’re leaving! It’s like the last day of school, you know, people have mixed feelings about it. Some people don’t know what they’re going to go on to, so it’s that fear of the unknown. But if you really think about it, we as actors, we always find ourselves in this situation, if a show closes or if we have to wait tables, it’s just constantly changing.

But you haven’t had to do that for six years. Do you feel out of practice with that kind of life?
J: I never waited tables, not that that’s a bad thing, but my lot was a little bit different. But it’s been really great. I’m the kind of person that’ll do whatever is necessary to make sure that I’m having a great time. If that means waiting tables, that means waiting tables. I’ll be the best, most fabulous waitress ever.

Do you have something lined up next?
J: [Feigning surprise] Oh, it’s so funny that you asked! I knew this day would come so I thought, What would I be doing that would make me just as happy? So I created this program called Just Judine at justjudine.com, which is motivational speaking, dance fitness coaching. [She’s interrupted because Marc Shaiman walks over. Judine hugs him.] This is Marc Shaiman, who wrote the fabulous musical I love. [To Shaiman] Would you sign my yearbook?

I heard you had a little role the other night?
Marc: Yes [Laughs].

Was that the only time you’ve stolen a cameo during the run?
M: The final night in our out-of-town tryout in Seattle, Scott and I actually came on stage for the last bars of “You Can’t Stop the Beat,” dressed in the extra Mr. Pinky outfits. But nothing like last night.

What is it like seeing your show ending?
M: It’s terrible. I won’t tell a lie. I’ll try not to cry. But it’s terrible. I hear everyone telling me how proud I should be and how wonderful it’s been and everything. But I feel like I’m putting a pet to sleep—only because I can’t afford dog food. If the pet was sick, I’d understand. But it’s not how it should be.

Brian Munroe, original head carpenter

Has your job changed as the show is winding down?
No, not for us. The actors have changed. The show’s been a little crazy in the past week with people trying to get their emotions in check and everything.

How has that affected you?
We have to watch a little closer, to make sure everybody on stage is still doing what they’re supposed to do. Because if they get a little kooky, they could be in the wrong spot when scenery’s moving.

What does your job entail after tomorrow?
We take all the scenery down, put it on trucks, send it to storage, return all the rental gear to the shops: All the lighting, all the sound, all the motors and machinery will go back. It takes about eight days to get everything out of the building, and about two weeks putting the building back to the way we found it when we first came in here.

What’s the pressure like with the economy on Broadway being like this?
Between this show and all the other shows that are closing, a lot of people are going to be unemployed. A lot of what’s coming in is plays, and plays don’t employ as many stagehands, wardrobe people and actors as musicals do.

Not as much razzle-dazzle.
Right. Not as many people working. So that’s the unfortunate part of us closing.

Do you get anything, like a jacket?
When you close? No. When you open, you get presents.

But no presents at the end?
No, you get a pink slip. I got a nice pink piece of paper. [He reaches into a drawer and pulls it out, laughing]. That’s our closing-night present.

Patti Smith

The holiday season introduces an eerie consistency to the New York concert calendar that’s at once comforting and stultifying. Like clockwork, Christmas brings its family shows and drag-queen shows, somber spiritual concerts and campy Jewish variety hours, Ronnie Spector and Darlene Love. The Trans-Siberian Orchestra plays chintzy Christmas songs in basketball stadiums and, year after year, Time Out runs the same joke about the ghastly act in the music listings. (“This is what Sylvester Stallone is likely to play while he watches the help trim his Christmas tree.”) Hanukkah means Yo La Tengo at Maxwell’s, with fancy surprise openers, comedians and covers of Jewish artists. Come New Year’s Eve, ticket prices suddenly shoot up; even in a recession, people are terrified of spending the night alone, sitting on a grubby couch in soiled tighty-whities while sobbing uncontrollably. Go figure.

For more than a decade, the rock artist who owns December 31 has been Patti Smith. This year, she plays Bowery Ballroom Monday 29–Wednesday 31. Here is an article the punk icon wrote for TONY before her 2002 New Year’s Eve concert. It’s about the important things in life: protest, death, art and a “superb jelly doughnut.”

What becomes a standard most? Welcome to the first edition of a new TONY blog series: the Right Track, dedicated to thumbing the pages of the Great American Songbook—and especially to tunes introduced in Broadway musicals of yesteryear. These songs have formed the background music of American life for decades; here they are brought once again to the fore. By comparing multiple recordings of the same material, we hope to explore not only the songs themselves, but the ways in which different artists and different eras can put their stamps on work that is strong enough to be heard again and again.

Today’s case study is Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart’s “Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered,” from the 1940 musical Pal Joey—which is now being revived by Roundabout Theatre Company on Broadway. The song was written for the character of Vera Simpson: a wealthy, sophisticated socialite who has embarked on an affair with a younger man, Joey Evans, who has little to offer but his sexual prowess. (Not that she’s complaining!)

After the break: nine full versions of “Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered.”
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Who isn’t looking for glorious ways to kill vacation time? Astoria’s Museum of the Moving Image (MoMI) is a film venue currently undergoing renovation; programming is scarce. But now on playable display until further notice, the museum is offering 14 arcade classics, including Asteroids (1979), Berzerk (1980), Centipede (1981), Defender (1980), Donkey Kong (1981), Frogger (1981), Missile Command (1980), Ms. Pac-Man (1982), Qix (1981), Space Invaders (1978), Super Breakout (1978) and Tron (1982). They’re closed on Christmas and New Year’s Day, but have hours during the rest of the week; admission is free. A dollar gets you four tokens, which is deeply old-school. And if you plan to rock Defender, get in line, pally.

Boeing-Boeing

Black Sunday is coming! Black Sunday is coming! It’s the end of Broadway as we know it! Shred the Playbills! Dim the lights! Don sequined sackcloth and glittering, fairy-dust ashes!

Or, you know, maybe not.

It is true that Sunday, January 4, will be an unusually dark day for the Great White Way. A whopping nine Broadway shows are slated to close—the most on a single day in decades. January has always been a weak month for Broadway, but clearly something is amiss. With the economy in the toilet, Broadway is no longer flush. When people sit down to trim their budgets, lavish and expensive entertainments are sure to be early on the list of things that can, however reluctantly, be done without. This does not bode well for the immediate future of Broadway shows.

That said, the barely suppressed sense of panic that has been suffusing the theater world this month, as Black Sunday looms nearer daily, seems overstated. It is worth noting that four of the nine shows scheduled to shutter on January 4—Dividing the Estate, Slava’s Snowshow, Irving Berlin’s White Christmas and Liza’s at the Palace…—are limited runs that were never supposed to have lasted any longer. (Indeed, White Christmas has been the highest-grossing show of the last several weeks.) Of the remaining five shows, at least three—Boeing-Boeing, 13 and Young Frankenstein—have probably run about as long as would have been expected of them when they opened. That leaves Grease, a mediocre revival that outlived its momentary TV-driven fame, and the crowd-pleasing Hairspray, which is bowing out gracefully after a long and profitable life.

Any of these closings, taken individually, would have raised no eyebrows. It is merely their timing that makes them seem especially significant. The truth is, most of these shows are not even especially good. (TONY’s critics have recommended only three of the nine.) One is never happy to see theaters go dark, or actors and crews become unemployed. But new shows are on their way—perhaps even, one dares hope, a few better ones. After years of bountiful Broadway harvest, a few months of fallow may not be the blackest of fates after all.

Doesn’t it just grab your attention like the business end of an M240 medium machine gun? All other books on my shelf cower in fear before the awesome 1,000-plus pages of glossy New York carnage, presented here in the person of Frank Castle and his insatiable appetite for cordite-scented vengeance. This handsome volume, which was released in late November and retails for about $99.99, compiles all of Preacher scribe Garth Ennis’s greatest hits from his tenure at the helm of Marvel’s preeminent vigilante title (including the timeless “Punisher Kills the Marvel Universe” arc). Don’t be put off by the sickly Hollywood imitation, just pull the trigger and give the gift of gratuitous cartoon violence.

Dave Lee/Joey Negro

Anyone who reads the Clubs section knows that we have a soft spot for light-up dance floors, spinning glitter balls, a heavy-duty thump-thump-thump…in short, all things disco. So it’s natural we turn to mush whenever we see the name Dave Lee. The U.K. vet, who works under a skillion noms de musique—Doug Willis, Agora and Jakatta among them—recently sent out a beautiful mix of disco (and discoish) tunes made under the Joey Negro name, and there isn’t a single “Boogie Oogie Oogie” in the bunch. By and large, it’s fairly obscure material, and we apologize for not having access to a track listing. But who cares about song titles? This is simply beautiful music, and it’s best just to put on a set of headphones and fantasize.

Brooklyn carpetbaggers Vice magazine actually put out a pretty decent fiction issue this year. The highlight would appear to be the literate (apparently), party-loving rocker guy Andrew W.K. reading a story by Ann Beattie called “The Field.” W.K. performs some preposterous, tearjerking dialogue (“It’s not exactly sewing,” I said. “I create patterns for things like dress bodices, or big cuffs. Things like that”) for each of Beattie’s characters, and his range suggests that he would make an excellent Muppeteer or serial killer. Or maybe a serial-killing Muppeteer. Other points of note are the individual reading syllabi of Mary Gaitskill (Veronica), Jim Shepard (Like You’d Understand Anyway) and Rivka Galchen (Atmospheric Disturbances). Although as a writer she’s not my favorite of the three, Galchen’s list seemed to me to include the most thoughtful choices (loved the inclusion of Walser), and—at least according to this trio—Nabokov appears to still be more king than knave.

It was hard to spot a gay character in a widely released movie this year, other than the obvious Harvey Milk. The only one this reporter can think of offhand is Evan Rachel Wood in The Wrestler; Wood plays the daughter of Randy “the Ram” Robinson (Mickey Rourke). She lives with her girlfriend, but, refreshingly, this fact doesn’t heighten the family drama: The Lycra-wearing Randy’s no homophobe. In small-screen adaptations, Sex and the City proved to be the gayest movie about the life and loves of four heterosexual women, while Noah’s Arc: Jumping the Broom featured two grooms saying “I do” in Martha’s Vineyard.

Those who paid attention (hi, Mom!) to the respective year-end top ten lists produced by both myself and TONY Books editor Michael Miller will notice that he and I had no overlap in our lists. None whatsoever (although there would have been if I had gotten through 2666 in time). There wasn’t even a best of/worst of crossover like the one instigated by associate music editor Hank Shteamer with his unapologetic support of Axl Rose & Co. The one similarity that I would like to point out between our lists, however, is the mutual eschewing of the novel that critics this year most wanted to make out with: Netherland, by Joseph O’Neill. And while I can’t speak for Admiral Miller, I can give my own reasons for not asking that most popular of fictional dates to the top ten prom.

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1stfans, a new initiative by the Brooklyn Museum to create a social network around museum membership, is hosting a special event to launch its site on Saturday, January 3. The studio of Swoon, street and graphic artist of international cred, will be on site, producing a print for every 1stfans member who walks through the door of the monthly First Saturday series. Membership is only $20, and it secures access to 1stfans events, as well as updates to your Facebook or Twitter accounts, and the possibility of corresponding with other members and museum staff through these sites. The 1stfans membership can be added to a regular membership ($55) or can stand alone if you’re more of a social-networker than a regular museum attendee; remember that First Saturdays are always free thanks to our friends at Target.—T.J. Carlin

Looking to cleanse your eardrums after the nonstop Christmas-music barrage? We’ve just gotten word of the perfect method.

From January 11 through January 23, local radio station WKCR 89.9 FM (also available online) will be broadcasting 301 straight hours of Roy Haynes music. Read the rest of this entry »

Pop-quiz time, folks. True or false: 2008 was the year I read more articles about how film critics are the vestigial tails of the movie industry than actual film criticism. We all know the correct answer, yes?

It wasn’t a kind year for the species known as Criticus cinematicus, with our ranks thinning rapidly and new think pieces arriving every week decrying that the profession is either dying or already dead. (As for the people who’ve suggested that a stunt like live-blogging a Cannes screening of Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull is a new low in film criticism, I’ll counter that what that gentleman did wasn’t, in fact, an act of criticism whatsoever. It was just a sad, desperate cry for attention. Congratulations…I guess?) Still, if you really want to hurt someone who writes about the moving pictures for a living, you don’t say they’re “irrelevant,” or “out of touch,” or “an elitist snob.” Apparently, you call them a homo and tell them to rot in hell.

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All right, first, a thought on all of these year-end lists coming out around now: What the hell is wrong with you people? Here’s the thing: I like TV on the Radio, but Dear Science shouldn’t be on top of any list. Have you not heard Return to Cookie Mountain? I like Fleet Foxes, but the band’s record struck me as a promising start, not a supreme champ…and so on and so forth, grumble here, grumble there.

I was happy with my fellow staffers’ picks this year, but really there is only one top ten that matters this year: mine. And, you know what the world needs? Even more recommendations from me.

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In the (probable) event that your mom isn’t as cool as mine, I thought I’d share an e-mail that she just forwarded me. It contains a series of petrified, bawling babes sitting on various second-rate mall Santas’ laps. If you have a bona fide fear of the jolly man (or at least his impersonators), please ignore my laughter, because I really do feel your pain: Some of these Mr. Clauses are creepier than the Joker nurse. (Get more delightful kiddie terror after the jump.)

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Nevertheless, it’s a snowy Friday afternoon and we hardworking magazine types still aren’t allowed to go home early to a couple well-deserved snifters of brandy, some Battlestar Galactica and a nap. The man to blame?

Time Out New York managing editor Ethan LaCroix (pronounced “la-cross”). If there is such a thing as too diligent (and I believe that there is), he is it.

And they’re back! This week, the Three Musketeers of the Pop Club gathered round the Google Talk to chat about three new singles: M.I.A. and A.R. Rahman’s “O…Saya,” Eve’s “Set It on Fire” and Lady GaGa featuring Space Cowboy’s “Christmas Tree.” Do you agree with their in-depth analyses? Read the rest of this entry »

Okay, I’ll admit it: When I headed over to New World Stages to review the retro-’80s comical jukebox musical Rock of Ages, my expectations were low. Like sub-sub-basement low. With the singular success of Jersey Boys and the failure of so many others (except the ABBA-bominable Mamma Mia!), we snobby critics and theatergoers had assumed the jukebox musical was RIP, circa 2005. Or at least, new ones. But the truth? Rock of Ages was a total guilty pleasure, and even light on the guilt.
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