Revue Review

Each weekend carries a certain sense of adventure.
Especially now that I have a marvelous comrade of conquest, one Mr. Jason Alan Knight.

Mr. Knight and Mr. Buck enterprises have made it a strong point to be highly involved in the arts community in New York as mutual scheduling permits. As such, weekend adventures frequently involve some sort of performance: musical, dramatic, artistic, etc.

This most recent weekend saw Misters Knight and Buck visit Theatre of the New City for the final performance of Denial: Time to Face the Musical.

The show can be summated in a single word: travesty.

Not to say that the concept was uncreative, it was simply tired, washed up, and poorly executed.
Mr. Buck felt it unkind and lacking in class to comment to this point however his staid behavior is completely counter-intuitive and he has thus opted to put off his politeness in an effort at fully explaining the horror that was a musical about a black girl who thought she was white.

You did not misread the last line.

Filled with catchy tempos and passable instrumentations the show's lyrics and dialogue fell to the wayside...

...as in I couldn't hear hardly any of them.

Blame it on the acoustics of the basement being passed off as a performance space, or perhaps the fact that the actors had little to no perceivable talent.

The lead was a poor excuse for a diva with a disproportionally large head and an even larger unawareness of her musical pitch (or lack thereof). This came as no surprise: the girl's bio contained the words "grateful to be making my New York debut in a brilliant musical I wrote myself". Some people would go so far as to call that assuming.
I would take it to the level of misguided insanity.

Either way, the first half was bearable enough: a sort of pleasant romp not unlike watching Cher dancing in a Chuck E. Cheese ballpit.
The second act caused me to begin contemplating methods for taking my own life.
There was the moment of revelation where the (clearly) black lead discovers that she is not, in fact, white and I'm pretty sure the entire audience was just about as uncomfortable as they would have been in a screening for Gigli 2. Only the show had less character.

I feel that I lost something during that show (and I am not merely speaking of my dignity) and I'm relatively sure it was approximately two hours of my life I would have rather spent reading Twilight.

Alright, alright, that's terribly dramatic. Unlike the show.