"All I Need is the Girl" from Broadway Backwards: 20th Anniverssary

From "All I Need is the Girl" with Robyn Hurder

‘ALL I NEED IS THE GIRL’ – 2026

There aren’t words to express what it meant to be invited back to share the stage with my forever girlfriend Robyn Hurder (arguably one of our *greatest* triple threats) and recreate this iconic scene and choreography from GYPSY (originally directed / put on us in 2019 by pal Tony Yazbeck  iconic Tulsa himself!)

Ohhhhh how the world has changed since then. How both of our lives, bodies, hearts and careers have evolved and shifted in those 7 years. And yet, like the magic that is emotional and muscle memory: there it all was, like not a moment had passed for this version of Tulsa and Louise. A very special take on the agony of unrequited love…

Thank you Broadway Cares for the honor and the gift. ✨

📸 📸: Michael Hull and Rebecca J Michelson
_________________

BROADWAY BACKWARDS
Written, Directed and Choreographed by Robert Bartley
Music Supervisors: @tedarthur, @marymitchellc
Music Director: @stevenmcuevas
Choreographer and Associate Director: @adamant9
Co-choreographers: @tinylamotte, @colby_q
Production Stage Manager: @esarab
Props Designers: Jenna Snyder, @alexanderwylie87
Lighting Designers: @jeffcroiter, @colleenashleyd
Sound Designers: Marie Renee Foucher, Josh Maszle
Costume Designers: @kittycassetti, @jgersz, Alex Rocky, @tiecarlton
Hair Designers & Supervisors: @meganburkeartistry, @wigkedtiff
Makeup Designers & Supervisors: @joshuabarrymua, @meganburkeartistry
Casting Consultant: @castingbyarc

"One Day More" from Broadway Backwards 20th Anniversary

From "One Day More" 

The 20th Anniversary production of Broadway Cares, BROADWAY BACKWARDS was everything one could dream of. An honor to revisit “Jean” opposite Bradley Dean with old friends and new.

“The time is now. The day is here.” 

Photos here by the brilliant @michaelhullphoto and @rebeccajmichelson— whose hugs were one of the best part of the evening.
 

(Re) Rehearsing for Broadway Backwards: 20th Anniverssary

There are certain nights in the theatre that feel less like performances and more like communal acts of remembrance. Broadway Backwards has always been one of those nights. For twenty years, this extraordinary event benefiting Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS has gathered artists together not only to celebrate the LGBTQ+ community through the re-imagining of beloved musical theatre canon, but to remind us why theatre matters in the first place: because storytelling can raise money, yes—but more importantly, it can raise one another.

 

So to be invited back for the 20th anniversary celebration at the Gershwin Theatre was already beyond anything I could have dreamed. To be asked to revisit not one, but both of my previous numbers — “All I Need Is the Girl” with the incandescent Robyn Hurder and “One Day More” alongside this glorious company of artists—felt almost impossible to process emotionally. There are moments in a creative life where you feel yourself quietly admitted into the room you spent your entire childhood hoping existed. 

 

This was one of those moments. 

 

And what moved me most deeply was not merely the nostalgia of recreating these performances, but the realization that while the work remains frozen in time, we do not.

 

When Robyn and I first performed “All I Need Is the Girl” in 2019, I had just met Alec—my now-husband—and I could not possibly have imagined the life that was waiting for me. I had not yet endured four life-saving surgeries. I had not yet learned what it meant to rebuild a body, a career, and a sense of self simultaneously. Robyn, too, has transformed beautifully: artistically, personally, professionally. Watching her ascend has been one of the great joys of my life.

 

And when I stood in “One Day More” in 2022, the entire world still felt bruised and disoriented from the ravages of COVID. I was still struggling physically and emotionally in the aftermath of illness and survival itself. We were all, in some way, trying to remember how to gather again.

 

That is the strange and holy magic of theatre. We return to the same material, but never as the same people. Every revisit becomes a kind of archaeological dig into who we once were and who we have become. A lyric lands differently. A harmony carries new grief or gratitude inside it. The body remembers what the heart has lived through.

 

 

For aspiring performers, I think this may be one of the greatest lessons this art form offers us: your work will evolve because you evolve. Life will mark you. Love will mark you. Loss will mark you. Survival will mark you. And if you are fortunate, you will someday return to a familiar stage carrying a deeper humanity than the person who first stepped onto it.

 

What an honor to revisit the past in service of the future. What an honor to stand among this community. And what a privilege to still be growing inside the work.

 

Jewish Represetnation in the Theatre Panel at BroadwayCon 2023

A few photographs and thoughts from the absolutely soul-expansive, mind-blowing, joy-forward panel on Jewish Representation in the Theater at this year’s BroadwayCon.

To sit beside this group of brilliant minds, talents and Jewish people was such an unspeakable honor, and to really comb through the nuances of the contemporary conversation was as illuminating as it was affirming. 

This was just the beginning for this brilliant crew (and many others).

1. I am not exclusively an “only mothers can play mothers” reductionist when it comes to casting and artistic expression. Buuut 

2. When the story centers around a character’s ethnic and religious-identity, is crucial to the fabric of who they are, and includes self-effacing parody OF that identity—then the casting of said identity is not only critical but to ignore it is actually harmful. 

Finally 

3. In these identity-forward times, the conversations around these issues are not always going to be directly parallel (ie a conversations comparing and contrasting the issues of various oppressed groups). It’s not the oppression Olympics. We must all breathe, LISTEN, check ourselves and remember that liberation is a GROUP PROJECT.

Thank you to Becca Suskauer and Ari Axelrod for organizing, and to Talia Suskauer, Brandon Uranowitz, Zachy Prince and Shoshana Bean for your heartfelt insights.

All photos © Rebecca J Michelson: also a genius Jewish person

 

I wanna talk about this hug with Samantha...

 

I want to talk about this hug with Samantha Masssell...

Playing Tzeitel in the 2015-16 production of Fiddler on the Roof on Broadway was one of the best and hardest 16 months of my life. While the public part of me soared in such a gorgeous production and beloved role on stage, off stage I was battling with truly debilitating severe ulcerative colitis daily.

I have a lot of people to thank for keeping me afloat and alive— my “Helens,” (the beloved wig room and creators of "the Cutest Pregnant Woman on Broadway!") my Hub Adam Kantor, The “Pineapples,” (a handful of the 30-somethings who were beyond there for me), but the majority of the agony happened in the dressing room I shared with Samantha—our beloved Dressing Room 51.

I am so unspeakably grateful that those health struggles are behind me now… it’s been quite the road to recovery.
 
But what forever remains is the memories of an incredible 26-year-old young woman who—with no training, and who never signed up to share space with a very sick person—bore witness to it ALL.
 
And even when I was very hard to love and be with, Sam stuck by me. We cried. We laughed (man how we laughed). We “kept it at a 10.” She listened. She saw. All of it.
 
Sam and I don’t have sisters in real life.
But the further away that experience gets, the more remarkable that incredibly young and remarkable Samantha seems to me, and the more truly sisterly her devotion.
 
In the business of show, there are a lot of glittering highs. A lot of unspeakable lows. But what remains at the end of the day is the friendships—more like family than could ever possibly be articulated.
 
So. Hug your friends. Tell them what they mean. We have such precious, fleeting, fragile days here on earth.

That’s it.
I just wanted to tell you all.
I love you, Doo Doo. X
 
📸: James T Murray (thank you SO much)

Escape from Cleveland: A Melodrama

On November 4, 2022, five character actors drove to the airport having recently completed a week-long workshop at the Cleveland Playhouse of Ken Ludwig's latest play, Moriarty: a Sherlock Holmes Mystery. The week had been splendid. A group of hilarious, intelligent Broadway veterans gathered together to exchange ideas, perfect a play with one of the most collaborative playwrights in the world; plus shared several delicious meals, experiences and stories after rehearsal. 

What a week working (laughing--good GAWD the laughing) at Cleveland Playhouse with great friends and insanely gifted artists—directed by Mark Browkaw—working on a reading of Ken Ludwig's latest— MORIARTY giving 12 or so comic tertiary or five, and Irene Adler to old pal Santino Fontana's Sherlock Holmes. 

All in all: the week was a great success. Behold our happiness post reading: 

cast + creatives of the pre-production of "Moriarty" at Cleveland Playhouse

But THEN! Then: the following morning, the cast of five-- a merry band of players-- all headed to the airport to catch the 12:15 Delta flight from Cleveland to LaGuardia. And that, my friends, is where the plot thickened...

But as if daily laughs and nightly meals weren’t enough, there’s more. All 5 actors arrived at the airport Friday morning to learn our flight to NYC was CANCELLED by Delta.
 
So instead of moping, we made lemonade outta lemons, rented an SUV and? 5 CHARACTER ACTORS DROVE FROM CLEVELAND TO NYC FOR AN IMPROMPTU ROAD TRIP!
 
We didn’t turn the radio on once, because we were talking and laughing and getting real and laughing so much. Thank you Ken Ludwig and Cleveland Playhouse for bringing us together. And thank you Santino, Andy Groteluschen, Pun Bandhu and Jill Abramowitz for the forever-memory—this gig was one for the BOOKS.

PS) the whole road trip is a highlight in my “stories” titled “ESCAPE FROM CLEVELAND!” About 5 mins. Worth it. 

SO IN LOVE -- Valentine's Day in New York City

It's The Most Wonderful Time In The Year. Right?

Wrong. It’s not only deepest winter, it is February, there’s a pandemic, and in walks the weirdest “holiday” of them all: Valentine's Day. Who wouldn’t want to grab a drugstore box of chocolates and scream-cry in their sweatpants?

NOT THIS YEAR.

You don’t need a significant other to snuggle up to your cocktail and spend an intimate evening with the Grammy Award nominee Alexandra Silber as she celebrates, makes fun of, mourns, and idealizes all things romance.
With songs.
And jokes.
And special guests.
And maybe even a QUIZ…with prizes.

Join Alexandra February 14th and experience a unique and intimate performance that combines Silber’s signature mixture of depth, wit and musicality.

And who knows? Maybe you’ll even score your very own box of chocolates.

With musical direction by Ben Moss
and Zack Zaromatidis on guitar
featuring Alec Silver 

TICKETS — https://thegreenroom42.venuetix.com/show/details/SrKJf33yUjwZrI9XlNAn/1644892200000

 

Carla: A Friend Gush

Oh hello there. Are you in need of some inspiration?
 
Behold: This is my friend Carla Stickler.
 
Last week (in the midst of everything) Carla flew to NYC from her new home outside Chicago, to answer a call from Wicked on Broadway: “Hi Carla, we know you haven’t been a part of the full time company since 2015, but can you be here in a few days to standby for Elphaba?”
 
Carla has recently pivoted away from showbiz and taken on a new career in coding. She has not played this role in seven years and kapow: with a performing itch to scratch and an industry in need, Carla "Defied Gravity" last night. ON BROADWAY.
 
The vocal training, the sheer vocal CAPACITY, and ballsiness to be painted in green, pushed onstage with zero rehearsal, and screlt your heart and guts out. For some of us, we might not totally appreciate what a role like this entails—let alone not having done, rehearsed it, or even THOUGHT about it for SEVEN years. But Carla? Did it. On one of the biggest stages ON EARTH.
 
I have known Carla since we were 12 years old at summer camp. In adulthood we’ve been a part of a group of “Kick Ass Ladies” (with Christina Wallace + Rachel Beider) who lift one another up and support one another on this roller coaster called life.
 
Carla is one of the smartest and most devoted humans I know with the voice of an angel, but even better: the heart of a WARRIOR.
 
She will return to her life in Chicago with her amazing husband, perfect dog and kick ass coder job— but if she never performs in public again? She knows without a shadow of a doubt that THIS BOW was her last bow.
As Elphaba.
On BROADWAY.
 
I’m proud of her accomplishment, but even more in awe of her courage, resilience, and sheer  KICKASSERY.
 
I love you, Carla. Thank you for reminding me (and all of here) that sometimes miracles happen TO us, but sometimes, when we are scrappy WE HAPPEN to THEM.
 
Everyone deserves a chance to fly. 💚

 

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A post shared by Carla Stickler (@sticklercarla)

"From the ashes we rise..."

    On March 13, 2020, during this very painful, confusing, and uncertain era of our human existence, Rebecca Taichman's original production of Paula Vogel's ''Indecent'' played its first of only two previews at the Menier Chocolate Factory in Southeast London.   

    For those of you who may not know, the Menier Chocolate Factory has become a beacon of theatre around the English-speaking world, championing new works, while producing and very often transferring their production to the West End, Broadway and beyond.

    Previews came after a period of extensive, detailed, emotional, and spiritually grueling work on the part of our extraordinary company and creative team (particular shout out to the associates who taught us everything, Ashely Monroe and Sara Gibbons). It also came 30 minutes after the news of the monthlong closing of the Broadway theater community.   

    Within moments, so many of my New York colleagues were out of a job. For quite a while. In London, we knew it was only a matter of hours before the lockdown came for us too. That night my heart surged with ache for our ravaged community that's very existence relies upon its live-ness.  

*

   

One of the great joys of Taichman's production is the half-hour pre-show where the entire company sits in stillness and watches the audience enter the space. 

We watched and bore witness, with tears in our eyes that we could not wipe, as the audience of 175 people slowly filled the seats in an act of wartime solidarity and need.   

The people with us on those two nights fought to be there, wore masks, sprayed down their seats.    

They needed it.   

Escape. 

Storytelling.   

The healing power of theatrical communion that, from the very beginning of its Greek origins was designed for shared catharsis, rivaled only perhaps by formal spirituality found in churches.   

For many, the theater is that very place of worship.  

It certainly was those two precious nights.   

And just like the players in the attic of ''Indecent'', with no clear idea what tomorrow may bring, we all decided to do a little play. For the "few souls" who braved coming. And it was glorious. 

*

At the end of ''Indecent'', there is a scene where two lovers, Rifkele (Molly Osborne) and Manke (me) dance passionately in the rain. It is a scene taken from Sholem Ash's ''God of Vengeance'', the play on which ''Indecent'' is inspired. 

As the sensation of the freeing-cold rain washed over us, I felt a rush of gratitude and joy. We were surrounded by waves of love, support and joy from our friends and colleagues. Moments this sacred are rare in the theater, and it was my honor to serve.  

On a personal level, only 11 weeks ago I had an adult Bat Mitzvah, and emerged in the ritual mikveh. This "rain water" felt as spiritual, as holy, and as cleansing. I felt certain I was the most fortunate woman on earth to tell this story — particular beside the dream that is Molly Osborne.  

Molly and I wept. We honored all of our actor predecessors (many of whom are good friends), and above all, the real-life people we represent that can no longer speak for themselves.  

The Rain Scene: Before...and After

*

    An hour or so after the preview performance came down, a longtime student, protege and now friend of mine, Allison, wrote to me and asked how it had gone. Allison Beauregard is a beautiful young artist: powerful, deep, intelligent, fiercely brave and, incidentally, a Queer woman. Indecent means everything to her, and I was stepping into what is a dream role and experience, and sharing the experience with her has been profound for both of us.

With her permission, I share our exchange:

Allison:
    What was it LIKE?

Alexandra:When you are a very young person
Who dreams of what being in the theatre could possibly feel like
And you dream and hope?
……..It felt like that.

36 hours later? She sent this:

Allison: I’m SO sorry to see your show’s postponement notice, Al.

Alexandra: For a moment — I got it. I had it.

*

    I have always felt as though our theatrical creations do, truly, live. Somewhere. We take a knife to the folds of the Universe and discover that Ophelia lives in this fold, Nora in another. Willy Loman, Iago, Mrs. Lovett, Electra, Julie Jordan, Anna, and the King? They take off from their creators, and go forth, belonging ever-more to the Universe at large.

     And by that logic, so too do Rifkele and Manke. Somewhere in some universe, they are always dancing together, falling in love, in the rain. Forever. 

*

I know so many of us are terrified.

But what I learned from sharing our story that first preview? The theatre and the human spirit are both inextricably linked and inextinguishable— and, to quote Paula Vogel from her very own Indecent:

    “The play belongs to the people who labor in it, and the people who set aside time to be there in person.”


Please dear theatre-makers and lovers—take heart.
From the ashes, we WILL, all, rise.