John, my loving spouse, took me aaaaallll the way "down the hill" to Downey (about a forty minute drive from our humble hovel under the Hollywood Sign in Sunday mid-day traffic) to see our buddy, Marsha Myers, play the role of Dora Bailey in the Downey Civic Light Opera staging of Singing in the Rain.
Marsha was one of the original War Babies: the improv group that John was with when we met.
Now, I can't speak for the dialog, but the DANCE STEPS were a faithful recreation of every tippy tap in the fabulous Gene Kelly, Donald O'Connor, Debbie Reynolds movie. I'll swear to that.
Dance steps, I remember. Dialog, not so much.
Ms. Myers' portrayal of the gossip columnist who stitches the story together for us was HYSTERICAL. My sides still ache.
There's one more weekend left of this treasure. If you can make it, you won't regret it.
BTW, the humble hovel is getting a face lift as I write. The water blasting happily coincided with our one day of rain last week. Now the scrapping and scrubbing has the back yard denizens - squirrels, geckos, humming birds, and crows - watching from their various limbs and rocks in mild apprehension. Me, too.
The painter man asked, "What color."
"The same," we said.
No good. A number must be chosen and properly recorded. It's never easy.