The first time I walked into Players of Utica was May, 1994. The group performed in a former church on Oxford Rd. in New Hartford, NY, where they’d been located since 1962. I remember a ramshackle building, peeling blue paint on the outside, entering through the downstairs and going up to get to the theater. The floors groaned, the stairs creaked, it smelled like a hundred years of must. I found it absolutely charming.

Ciara Wiggins played an incredible AIDA, princess-turned-slave. I had no difficulty believing Casey Rice’s Radames would fall head over heels for her – her regal bearing was projected in every (seemingly) effortless note. Rice channeled Elton John – his voice was well suited to the pop/rock style of his songs, which he embellished with occasional growls and fillips.

I considered, “What am I trying to accomplish?” As a performer, director, producer or technical theater craftsman, my goal is to surprise and delight an audience, to make people feel and/or think. Any of those. As a writer, my goal is to surprise and delight an audience, to make people feel and/or think. The intention is the same, whether I make the show or write about it.

There’s exactly one reason to watch the movie, which is Anna Kendrick’s luminous performance as Cathy. Jeremy Jordan’s Jamie is weak tea; it doesn’t help that the authors’ conception of the character is beyond insipid (what idiot would whine about being married to Anna Kendrick?)

Criticism is my favorite kind of writing. Somebody wrote that criticism is taste + experience. I have both of those, so of course I’m going to contribute to the form. Stick with me, fasten your seatbelts, or at least cover the next round. I’m not quitting.