This is a rather unusual column to be writing on election day, but you’ve been told 100 different times, and in 100 different ways, to vote so you don’t need me adding to it.
But I hope you all do.
However, today I want to share something very nice that happened to me this weekend.
I do not classify myself as a critic — at least not professionally. I review theater and music performances more because I like them than because of any particular knowledge that qualifies me as an expert.
Most of the feedback you get when you step into a critic’s role is negative. You learn to live with that. You’re not there to sugarcoat when venues are charging top dollar for patrons to attend shows. You’re there to tell people what you think, and how you feel about the shows they may be interested in attending, and if those criticisms are unduly frank, so be it.
I’ve had my moments warding off criticism of my criticism. Way back in 1985 Motley Crue came to the old Manning Bowl. I wasn’t impressed, and was not very nice in my review of the show.
Needless to say, I heard about it. These were the days before email and social media, so the feedback came via the telephone. One day, one of my colleagues called in a panic saying she’d just received a call from someone who was threatening my life.
As you can see, I’m still here.
Another time, I opined, in a review of Brit Floyd at City Hall, that the long, ponderous deep cuts the group pulled out were perhaps too deep, and too self-indulgent. The only feedback I got, via email, was from a fan who obviously never stopped toking to “Dark Side of the Moon” telling that’s exactly what Floyd fans want. I wasn’t sure then, and I’m not sure now. However, the next time the group came around, it put on a much more accessible show (they went through “The Wall” from stem to stern).
You always seem to hear from people who went to the shows but who have a different perspective than yours. Fair enough. We’re always hoping for feedback, so it’s really cool when you get some.
I’m going to say that I could take or leave Whitney Houston. The name doesn’t invoke intense disdain, like, say, Barry Manilow or ABBA do. She sang some catchy songs, and I appreciated both her talent and — of course — her pedigree.
However, I did not run out to theaters to see “The Bodyguard.” That’s mainly because I generally don’t run out to movie theaters to see anything. I gravitate toward live entertainment, and my wallet’s not thick enough to accommodate both.
So when our regular entertainment guy, Bill Brotherton, asked if I’d like to review “The Bodyguard” at North Shore Music Theater, I said I would, and figured my wife would enjoy it much more than me.
Turns out I enjoyed it very much. For those still unaware, the show has a plot but it’s also basically a revue of Whitney’s songs. Everybody in the cast was extremely talented, but none more so than Nicole Henry, who played the sister of the protagonist. She sang beautifully, and she had a real presence on the stage.
So I wrote that in my review, which appeared in the paper Friday. Sunday afternoon, I received an email from Henry thanking me for the review, and for my kind words.
I’ve received compliments before, but never from one of the stars of the shows I’ve reviewed. I always supposed the stars read the reviews, but mostly reacted to the unfavorable ones. This was the first time I’d ever heard from someone I’d complimented.
So naturally I had to Google her. It turns out she is an accomplished jazz singer who has been studying music all her life.
It also turns out that her father, Al Henry, played in the NBA for the Philadelphia 76ers in the period after Wilt but well before Dr. J. We can make allowances for some things. Now, if he’d played for the Lakers, that would be something else.
Anyway, Henry reaching out like that has made a big impression on me. It makes me hope that the rest of the run, which goes through Sunday, succeeds, and that someone a lot higher up in the entertainment food chain than me sees her and sees the same things in her that I did.
