A Striking Performance

Up to the Disney College Program housing pavilion I strut. It's November 12 and I'm going to watch Newsies. All I know is dancing, singing, newspapers and Disney. Let's go! Let's go to Straz Center for the Performing Arts in Tampa and watch this musical by Alan Menken, Jack Feldman and Harvey Fierstein. 

Or we can leave over an hour later than intended. That's cool too. We hauled overselves up 

all

   those

           stairs

and into our cushioned seats by 7:29pm for the 7:30pm performance.

Some might say our seats in the gallery were so far up oxygen masks should've dropped from the ceiling. Also, that the first scene completely unobstructed by late nineteenth century dirty laundry would've been nice. But one man's (or woman's) gallery is another man's penthouse. 

Physically, I was so distant I couldn't even tell you if any of the Newsie boys even had eyebrows, let alone if they were on fleek. Emotionally, I was given front row seats. Every single performer on that stage did a tremendous job closing the emotional gap. 

A chorus of laughter from the audience rolled with the punch lines. Newsies induced knowing smiles with their yearning for better pay and brought tears with their huge, headline grabbing dance breaks. 

Yep, I cried. Countless times. When I first noticed water leaking from my eyes during the pockets of Newsies performing upbeat, acrobtic jazz during "Carrying the Banner" I thought I'd tally my tears. Then they continued with their technical and unioned, yet idiosyncratic and raw movements and so the tears fell once more. Their lines never completely matched and sure some of their pirouettes were a little off beat, but that's exactly what you'd expect from a riff raff of mostly homeless male youths who sell papes and just happen to sing and dance phenomenally. 

Maybe there was a little PMS to blame, but it doesn't explain the moments I cried. The most obscure moments brought the tears. Sure, there were orphans and Crutchie with a gimp leg, but who would cry at that? Who would cry when Jack and Katherine sing sweetly infront of a sapphire sky draped by the soft grey light of the full moon and the New York City skyline?

It's completely normal to cry when a band of talented dancers are executing superb, upbeat choreography across the floor and through the seamlessly moving scaffolding, right?

Crying because a kid is acting with pizzazz and gusto is surely not unusual. John Michael Pitera's perfectly exaggerated performance of Les potentially reminded me of my younger dance students back home. 

If the cast noticed my silent sobs during the standing ovation, each tear was filled with joy and amazement. A few also fell for the past year I've really missed dancing in a studio and on a stage. 

And finally, to my favourite, happy tear inducing Newsie...

Dear Jack,

Keep doing you. Oozing enough charisma for two. Was that your face I saw at the stage door? Of that I can't be sure. But there is one thing I can say. When your captivating voice emerged from those great pipes you truly did make my night. Whether in Tampa or in Santa Fe, you'd make any audience want to seize the day.

I never expected to love Newsies so much that I would write the most embarrassingly bizarre review about all the times the performance reduced me to tears. The least you could do is watch the striking show when it rolls into a town near you.