#vampiru no dansu

[gdelgiproducer]

Announcing... a new podcast

Welp, I’ve been off this platform for some time. If I was coming back, it’d be to promote this notion for sure. Hello, #tanzblr; breadman missed you.

Coming soon to a podcast platform near you, in the vein of Out for Blood’s retrospective coverage of Carrie and after much development (probably closer to next year than this year): 

A Good Nightmare Comes So Rarely: The Rise and Fall of Dance of the Vampires.

The pitch:

When most American theater aficionados think of Dance of the Vampires, they don't think of a show that’s run successfully for 9,300+ performances, in 12 languages, in 14 countries, bringing in an audience of over 9.6 million. They think of its brief New York run starring Michael Crawford, which was such a critical and commercial disaster that it totally eclipsed the infamous Carrie in financial loss, set the new bar for legendary flops (at least until Spider-Man: Turn Off the Dark came along), and is still widely cited as proof of the ‘wisdom’ that ‘vampire musicals don’t work on Broadway.’

20 years on, it’s time for a post-mortem. Two obsessive fans dive deep into the story behind its creation, interviewing cast, crew, creators, and detractors and fans alike who watched from the peanut gallery, as they recall all the gory details of the road to Manhattan, from the creation of the original Roman Polanski source film in the mid-Sixties to the present day.

When I say “two obsessive fans”... yeah, I’m co-hosting with ozymegdias. (As she has had significant input on my further development of the fabled ‘new English version more faithful to the European original,’ that may come up as well. We’re debating whether or not it’s necessary; I think it’s a novel hook.)

If you’d like to contribute, we’re looking for “detractors and fans alike”: enthusiasts of Tanz, of DOTV (slim crowd, but they exist), of both (even slimmer crowd, but they, too, exist), and rubber-neckers who watched the proverbial auto accident with interest, the kind of people who can offer color commentary of the “from the sidelines” variety. Get in touch!

[gdelgiproducer]

Possibly an unpopular opinion

Recently, on Reddit, I came across the phrase “Dance of the Vampires is barely even Tanz der Vampire” in a discussion. I debated whether or not to share this opinion in response to that general point (of which I’ve heard many variations over the years), but as somebody who’s been as close to the show as I have, I think I’ve earned the right to do so.

That opinion is: they’re really not super different.

The humor is arguably shittier in DOTV, yes (to the extent one can argue that a phallic sponge is that big a step down from, say, playing “uh-oh, it’s a booby” to discover that it’s not Chagal under the sheet), but take away the most egregious elements, and it’s not nearly as different from Tanz as people have made it out to be.

Which is not to say DOTV isn’t the worse version; it absolutely is. But it’s over-simplifying things to say that one is a brooding, sensual, dark, Gothic opera, the potential result if Anne Rice wrote a vampire musical (that worked), and the other is a campy Mel Brooks-reminiscent romp, especially when...

They stem from the same source material.

They feature largely the same score and many of the same characters and plot points, even if the portrayal of the latter is different.

Both, each in their own way, send up the mega-musical genre / format.

Both can’t really decide whether they’re fish or flesh, comedy or serious drama, and wind up being neither. (Let’s not forget... in both versions, the audience is asked to swallow “Total Eclipse of the Heart” as a serious love duet between a vampire and his potential victim at the top of Act II, sharing space with a song later in the same act where said vampire lectures us on how our greed will be our doom, monologuing about the existential pain of eternal life and of losing everything and everyone he loves. The phrase “one of these things is not like the other...” comes swiftly to mind.)

The real, salient difference is in the basic approach to each. As George Abbott, Broadway’s all-time greatest musical comedy director, once said, “If you play it for comedy, it won’t work; if you play it for real, it will.”

Tanz camouflaged its inconsistency by playing it straight, with focused, detailed direction and a (mostly) dark sense of humor. The acting style seemed to follow a principle aptly described by Keythe Farley (of the Actors’ Gang in Los Angeles) as “the height of expression, the depth of sincerity” -- in other words, an extremely sincere approach, one where the cast takes it so seriously it’s funny, but it also hurts. What comedy existed wasn’t overplayed, so that when one of the handful of emotional moments came along, it was able to hit its target. (I put this in past tense because, in my opinion, Stage Entertainment has been doing it so long that it’s gotten very watered-down; the humor now seems to be overplayed to such an extent that the more emotional moments aren’t landing.)

DOTV, on the other hand, opted for a broad, silly angle that milked every “punchline” it could, as much as possible, and it was about as focused as a nervous driver after twelve rounds of tequila.

One way is just better than another at masking the show’s flaws.

[gdelgiproducer]

Tanz vs. DOTV: Something to ponder

(Content warning: use of a common five-letter word for the female anatomy to illustrate a point)

Hi, everyone! Vulture article plugging aside, it’s been a little while since I used this platform to directly discuss the differences between Tanz der Vampire and (what I hesitate to call) its New York incarnation, Dance of the Vampires. A lot of people have already identified the key problems, me being extra loud and verbose at it, with what DOTV did on the road to Broadway that sunk its chances. But there are always new things to discover, and I thought this little illustration which occurred to me recently might add more to the overall picture.

Over the years, I’ve been none too subtle -- perhaps jaundiced by my own experience with the man, I’ll admit -- in pointing a finger of blame at Jim Steinman, arguing that, far from the remove at which he placed himself in retrospect, he was an engine behind many unnecessary changes which were not related to Michael Crawford’s creative control. As someone who spearheaded the closest thing to a reboot Tanz will ever have in English (which will hopefully see the light of day in the future as more than two rough demos), I spent a lot of time with 1) Michael Kunze’s original draft, dated July 1997, 2) at least four drafts of the script for DOTV, and 3) watching my team develop its own version from the original German, so I know whereof I speak.

Now, many of Jim’s fans who heard about our effort around the time it began scoffed upon hearing about it, partly because I was a purveyor of Encyclopedia Dramatica level fandom wank as a kid and they didn’t trust the source (why lie, the Internet is a semi-permanent archive of one’s faults) and partly because they didn’t see the need for a new translation when surely Jim and/or Michael Kunze had already done a faithful English draft: “Who are these assholes to interject?”

Well, there’s an easy answer to that: Kunze’s draft, like many of his English lyrics to his own work, bears no comparison to his work in German. (A first-year ESL student probably would do a better job. That sounds harsh, but ask Kunze’s fans. There are very few who will disagree.) As for Jim, it became quite clear that when he didn’t just re-use Kunze’s English version of the material and substitute a word or phrase here and there, capturing the German meaning in his... we’ll call them more loosely adapted... lyrics was not even remotely on his mind. Indeed, there were times he took something beautiful and made it downright creepy.

A handy example is “Für Sarah.” Michael Kunze wrote a straightforward innocent love song, with maybe a tiny bit of foreshadowing. The point is that Alfred’s not a romantic hero, and that’s the joke. You root for him, but you pity him. You’d think they’d honor that in an English version with better phrasing or a different way to say the same thing.

Instead, Jim Steinman, in his quest to make Alfred a romantic hero (an “impetuous young gallant,” in Giovanni’s ultimate words), shoehorned in brooding imagery that turned it into a ghastly incel anthem, and I can prove it by changing literally just one word of his lyric for the song:

Substitute “pussy” for every instance of “Sarah.” (Example: “I will slash / I will burn / There is nothing / I would not do or be / For pussy...”) 

See? Altering one word is all it takes to picture a pimply neck-beard idolizing a “dream girl” that doesn’t even know both that he exists and has built a hidden shrine to her. For that matter, the whole song is turned into a litany of horrible “male power fantasy” things this guy, who is supposed to be a shrinking violet in the original version, would do for her: stealing, lying, slashing, burning... none of this is in the German at all, but leave it to Jim to introduce it!

Not to toot my own horn too loudly about something people may never see, but my team’s translation, while it may not always have said exactly the same thing as Kunze did in German, at least tried to capture the same imagery and emotion in it. More than I can say for Jim. Way more than I can say.

[gdelgiproducer]

Oh, you won’t even believe what’s happening...

[gdelgiproducer]

What new ending you talking about for tanz der vampire?

Oh, I forgot some people weren’t aware of that. Have you heard the 2009 revival recording? It can be heard there; it started there, and has since appeared in a few other productions, mainly the ones that use Kentaur’s production designs.

Here’s a thumbnail description that I’ve pieced together from various sources the best that I can, because I am based in America and not exactly made of money, so I haven’t seen it for myself aside from the odd clip here and there (I don’t seek them out, as, like I said, I don’t really like the new ending):

For starters, Abronsius sings the intro to the Act II finale same as always.

At the end of that first verse, the music changes in tone, becoming dark and threatening. (Not exactly “new” music, the whole moment is a restatement of old themes, but you’ve definitely never heard it outside of the revival recording unless you’ve seen subsequent productions.) He turns around and realizes Alfred and Sarah have disappeared, so he goes off looking for them, shouting “He ho he” – it’s sort of like a throwback to the beginning. (He doesn’t actually sing it, which is why I’m kind of hesitant to specifically call it a book-end.) Depending on the actor, it either plays as Abronsius being distressed and worried for the lad’s safety, or annoyed as per his usual nature.

After Abronsius disappears, or perhaps at the same moment, Krolock shows up and takes the stage, apparently once again a surprise entrance from the audience like when he first appeared in Act I. 

It then goes one of two ways: either he laughs triumphantly and then follows Abronsius, the implication being the professor’s price for curiosity will be his own end, as it was initially staged, or he just does a big “vampire laugh” and is lowered under the floor, which is the way it was ultimately re-staged and – at least to my knowledge – has remained.

When the “new” music is over, it picks back up with “Finale Part II,” the old transition into Magda and Herbert and the big dance party (which now includes Alfred, Sarah, and Krolock).

As I said, it feels out of place – it is quite literally an interruption to anyone used to the old version – and it doesn’t really add anything.

If, as some have suggested, it was put in to justify Alfred, Sarah, and Krolock appearing in the choreography at the very end, I honestly – if arrogantly so – don’t accept that as an excuse. The implication of the choreography, and the scene preceding it, is that the vampires did survive, and now they’re gonna be able to take over the world. Alfred, Sarah, and Krolock are not ruled out of participating in the “revolution” just because they aren’t physically there, and if one does add them to the dance, they don’t need a whole scene to justify it.

And if, somehow, you’ve only seen the newer production and missed older ones… yeah, this was never there before 2009. It went from the professor straight into the vampires taking over.

[gdelgiproducer]

DOTV AU: An Exercise in Alternate History (Part VII)

Parts I, II, III, IV, V, and VI offer more detailed context. (To briefly sum up why these posts are happening: alt history – as in sci fi, not “alternative facts” – buff, one day got the idea that DOTV could have turned out hella different if Jim Steinman looked for a star lead in other places, decided to reason out how that might work.) This is still getting a good response, so I’m gonna keep the train rolling.

Parts of the AU timeline established so far:

Instead of stopping at recording two songs from Whistle Down the Wind on a greatest hits compilation, Meat Loaf wound up taking more of an interest in Steinman’s new theater work than he did in our timeline, and through a series of circumstances found himself volunteering to play Krolock in the impending DOTV when Jim poured out his woes to him about needing to find some sort of star to attract investors. At a loss for any better ideas, Jim accepted Meat’s impulsive proposal, but not without resistance from his manager, David Sonenberg, who proposed Michael Crawford as an alternate candidate. Through quick thinking on Meat’s part, and inspiration on Jim’s, Crawford left the room accepting an entirely different role than he walked in hoping to get, leaving Krolock still open for Meat.

There was a brief speed bump, when Meat disliked Jim’s English script for the show, but after meeting with the original German author Michael Kunze and convincing Jim to compromise, things were on the road to being back on track… at least until 9/11 occurred.

Following a brief hiatus, everyone involved met to re-assess their options. The current game-plan was to put the new script on paper, schmooze with potential investors or producers, and put together a new creative team. Preferably not all at the same time, but with the crunch on, they’d do whatever needed to be done.

So far, the schmoozing has gone well, but everybody that Meat, Jim, and the crew would like to be involved is tentative. The newest conclusion is that they need to show them there’s a working show, and a concert of selections from the score seems to be the route they’re taking, possibly financed by an unlikely source.

Continuing the alternate DOTV timeline, a little differently this time! This time we get a feature on the concert from the New York Post’s own Michael Riedel. Take it away!

VAMPIRES: NEW MUSICAL BLOOD by Michael Riedel

If you’ve heard the buzz on the Rialto of late, you’d be forgiven for wondering if you were having a particularly nasty acid flashback. Dance of the Vampires, a new $15 million musical of the macabre based on the 1967 Roman Polanski movie The Fearless Vampire Killers, is already a monster hit in Austria and Germany, and it’s starting to gather steam here in the States as well, with some... we’ll call it unlikely... star power attached. After all, what other musical (even in a preliminary concert presentation) can boast Courtney Love as an emcee slash investor, and such disparate names as Meat Loaf and Michael Crawford as co-headliners?

Admittedly, Meat Loaf’s presence is slightly less surprising, as the driving force behind the show is Jim Steinman, who wrote Mr. Loaf’s classic Bat Out of Hell albums as well as the lyrics for Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Whistle Down the Wind.  He has written the score and is co-adapting the book for Vampires with playwright David Ives (All in the Timing), who is also currently at work with Steinman for Warner Bros. on a musical version of Batman, from German dramatist Michael Kunze’s original script. He also co-directed this concert with Starmites composer Barry Keating, though early reports that Steinman would be co-directing the eventual Broadway run with Jane Eyre creator John Caird have ultimately been dismissed.

“Roman directed it in Vienna, but he can’t work here because of his legal problems,” Steinman said, referring to Polanski’s indictment for statutory rape in the 1970′s. “He may be the first director who can’t work over here because of a statutory rape charge.” When queried about who then would be directing the New York run, Steinman was tight-lipped, but among those in attendance at the evening’s proceedings was Urinetown’s Tony-winning helmer, John Rando, who is now rumored to be in talks for the slot. Said Rando of the new show, “It takes the vampire myth and pokes fun at it, but it also embraces it. Its message is about the excesses of appetite. It has wit and an edge to it. I’d love to be involved!”

The presentation (at the 499-seat Little Shubert Theatre, about half a mile west of Broadway; events like this cause us rightfully to wonder why it doesn’t see more use) for a by-invitation-only crowd was kicked off by Ms. Love, Hole rocker and widow of Nirvana frontman Kurt Cobain, in memorable form. Says a source in attendance, “You could sum it up in two words: too drunk. She was literally falling over. She wasn’t coherent at all.” Managing to gather herself enough to announce that Dance of the Vampires is a musical for people “who think musicals suck,” she didn’t manage to say much else of importance. “It just became a little too sloppy, and she was removed.” Insiders report that Steinman’s manager, David Sonenberg, who is also one of the show’s producers (and a first-timer at that), worried that those involved would be seen as taking advantage of a troubled addict. Ms. Love’s performance did little to dispel this perception. Lucky that representatives from noted L.A.-based promoter Concerts West, major music manager Irving Azoff (who numbers The Eagles, REO Speedwagon, Journey, Christina Aguilera, and Sammy Hagar among his clients), film and music mogul Jerry Weintraub, and Broadway’s own Barry and Fran Weissler were in attendance; a cash infusion from such sources may well be needed to save face if she can’t “live through this,” to twist a phrase from her 1994 album of the same name.

In addition to Sonenberg, already attached to Vampires on the producing side are Andrew Braunsberg (another first-timer, who also produced Polanski’s 1971 film version of Macbeth), Leonard Soloway, Bob Boyett (Sweet Smell of Success, Topdog/Underdog), Lawrence Horowitz (Electra, It Ain’t Nothing But the Blues), and Barry Diller and Bill Haber’s USA Ostar Theatricals. Boyett, a TV producer turned legit entrepreneur, used the phrases “trial by fire” and “going to war,” perhaps because while some novice producers just put up the money, get the credit and run, Boyett says he’s been taking the process very seriously: “I went to all the meetings and learned, like it was grad school.” While some Hollywood types find Broadway “less cutthroat,” Boyett finds it “more restrictive.” He mentions the sheer physical space of the theaters but also all the rules and regulations: "I’ve dealt with unions all my life, but I do find Actors’ Equity is very restrictive to the creative process.” Further, he regrets that Vampires will not have an out-of-town tryout. “I loved the experience of taking Sweet Smell of Success to Chicago,” he says with real enthusiasm, as if the project ended happily. “It was helpful to have the critics say what they did.” Not that Boyett thinks the right message from the critics got to the creative team. 

As for Boyett’s teammates, Bill Haber attended on behalf of USA Ostar, and although he wouldn’t consent to a formal interview, he couldn’t resist answering one question -- and it has nothing to do with Dance of the Vampires. Why is Haber’s other fall production, Imaginary Friends by Nora Ephron, being called a play if it has six songs by Marvin Hamlisch and Craig Carnelia? “It has nothing to do with how many songs there are,” he shot back. “It has to do with the fact that if you took all the songs out, it still works and you still have a play.”

And all this before we even get to the show itself. Vampires is your typical erotic musical about an innocent girl (played this evening by impressive newcomer Mandy Gonzalez, currently standing by for the role of Amneris in Aida and late of Off-Broadway’s Eli’s Comin’) choosing between two lovers, in this case an older, aristocratic vampire (Loaf, whose appearance here marks the first time he has worked with Steinman in theater since the early Seventies) and a hunky young grad student (Max von Essen, who reportedly also appeared in the Steinman/Caird-helmed reading in April 2001) under the tutelage of a rather intensely wacky vampire hunter (Crawford). Given the level of Loaf’s obvious commitment to the piece, it is surprising that his manager (Allen Kovac, of Left Bank Management) was a no-show, and in that light, rumors that Loaf has yet to formally sign on the dotted line for Vampires (in spite of previous announcements to the contrary, no less) prove even more curious. Calls to Kovac’s office were not returned. The rest of the cast, boasting some fine voices indeed, was filled out by assorted Broadway names and members of Meat Loaf’s long-time touring band, The Neverland Express, which also provided accompaniment for the evening under the crisp musical direction of veteran rock bassist Kasim Sulton (best known for his work with Todd Rundgren and Utopia, among others).

Speaking of the music: the score, as per Steinman’s usual style, is appropriately big and Wagnerian, with plenty of luscious, operatic melodies, including one familiar favorite that sticks out like a sore thumb: Steinman’s famous “Total Eclipse of the Heart,” under whose operatic pretensions I swooned as a teenager. “I couldn’t resist using it,” he says of a song that goes, ‘Once upon time there was light in my life / But now there’s only love in the dark.’ “I actually wrote it for another vampire musical that was based on Nosferatu, but never got produced.” Close listening to the CD sampler for interested investors also reveals a rehash of the vigorous “Tonight Is What It Means to Be Young,” his song for the film Streets of Fire, which I saw in Los Angeles in 1984 and sent me racing along Mulholland Drive to keep up with the propulsive beat.

As for the new stuff, maybe 50′s rock ‘n’ roll with a 70′s preen isn’t what the 80-year-olds who constitute Broadway’s audience want to hear (and Jim’s rock-mock-Wagnerian shtick admittedly tends to play better in London and Las Vegas than in Manhattan), but my sources say they knew from the first number --  an angelic trio with a beguiling (what did they used to call it?) melody and some expert (the Andrews Sisters used to do it) harmony -- that this would be my kind of score. Frankly I’m glad; since the prehistoric vinyl days, Steinman has been the guy I keep calling for to rejuvenate, or just plain juvenate, the Broadway musical, in a world where the musical theater establishment pronounces old ABBA records a hip pop sound.

The book, while reportedly in better shape than the April reading, is something else again. From the excerpts on display last night, the mix of bawdy humor and eroticism still needs fine-tuning. Says Sonenberg, “By the time we open, it will be a new version of the show, significantly changed with a view toward a New York audience, but right now it plays very much like the original in several respects.” Adds David Ives, “The German production is probably more faithful to the film, but it’s a fairly humorless show, with people getting hit on the head with salami. And I’ve been brought in to take out the salami and put in the chorus girls, without veering into camp in the process. Now it’s just a question of finding the balance, which, needless to say, isn’t easy. But I like what we’ve accomplished so far: Meat’s character is vastly different, a much more multifaceted, dynamic, complete figure. We’ve also made other changes and cuts and restructured the show into a book musical, with dialogue; the original is all sung. I think we’ve made it a much more interesting story.”

Time, as always, will be the ultimate arbiter of fate.

[gdelgiproducer]

Continued discussion of the new(-ish) ending to “Tanz” (4)

ninallthatjazz:

@gdelgiproducer in this bootleg you can see it crumble - it's from the german production in 2011/12 (I think) https://youtu.be/FvA7SeErpGg In the 1997 recording you can't tell what happens unfortunately. But since the german production has bought the rights to the 'old' viennese version, I'm pretty sure it happens there as well.

Well, I checked out this fairly decent quality clip from the original, and it doesn’t look like total destruction there, just a lot of strobes, scattering vampire hordes, and a fairly speedy recovery for Krolock, who seems appropriately embarrassed at being outwitted by rank amateurs, after a moment of immobilization / frustration. (I also find it telling that it seems to be Alfred who grabs the other candelabrum while Abronsius is frozen in fear, another moment contrary to every script I’ve ever read, but I kinda like it; the scared student surpasses the master in the nick of time, sort of like Johanna in Sweeney Todd -- on stage -- shooting the owner of the asylum when Anthony is too flustered to pull the trigger.)

As to which outcome I prefer in the ball scene... I think I understand why they go the “total destruction” route now. Like one person says on that TV Tropes Headscratchers page (hidden by a spoiler tag), a momentary inconvenience doesn’t really help the “twist” ending land like total destruction does (especially the kind Jim describes in early drafts of the American version, with an eruption of fire, walls crumbling, and a river of blood pouring down the middle of the ballroom). If all the vampires are seemingly doomed, then it looks to a first-time viewer like Alfred and Abronsius have, against all odds, actually won the battle, which would make Sarah's surprise snack at the end of the show more shocking.

Having said that, even with the castle’s destruction included, I still don’t feel like the extra moment in the Finale is super necessary. In my (frequently stated) opinion, simply introducing Alfred, Sarah, and Krolock in the choreography neatly ties up those loose ends and secures in the audience’s minds the message that the vampires are in control now and possibly never lost control of the situation, and as for Abronsius... well, clearly he was powerless to stop the outbreak, if he ever noticed it happened to begin with.

[gdelgiproducer]

Re: “Breda von Krolock”

It’s not his name.

It is not now, nor has it ever been.

Knowing that the film The Fearless Vampire Killers had a mainly British crew who were given to practical jokes on set, and that the person in the graveyard couldn’t possibly be the Count since -- for openers -- they weren’t in the crypt, I frankly never bought into it to begin with, no matter what alternate etymology people turned up in other languages.

(In fact, that’s literally the only thing I’ve ever said every time someone brought it up: the Count reposes in the crypt, not in a simple grave. There would be no marker for him outside, it would make no sense. And, assuming the Hungarian origin for the name is correct, a vampire named Breda... doesn’t that seem like the kind of in-joke only Giovanni would find funny?)

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not knocking the fandom’s efforts, and all the stuff you guys have turned up over the years to justify a shot of a random gravestone in the movie (including that cute bit about “names were often passed down in aristocratic families, so even if it’s not his grave, it could still be his name” -- the lengths people will go to in order to retain cherished headcanon!) is attention to detail that is nothing short of mind-boggling. But the simplest explanation is often best, and to me, given what I’ve noted above, what makes the most sense is that it is simply not his name.

I will also add that in my time working on the show, though admittedly I never went out of my way to ask, no one ever mentioned the Count having a first name, which is something you’d think would come up -- at least in passing -- if there was one. The only production to give him one, to my knowledge, was the American one, and I think we all know better than to count that as canon.

If you wanna believe he’s Breda, go ahead, fine. Headcanon is headcanon. If you wanna believe you yourself are not a human being but in fact a palm tree, go ahead, fine. Headcanon is headcanon. Just know that the preponderance of evidence suggests it is not true in the text (or reality, in the case of the palm tree) itself.

[gdelgiproducer]

DOTV AU: An Exercise in Alternate History (Part V)

Parts I, II, III, and IV offer more detailed context. (To briefly sum up why these posts are happening: alt history – as in sci fi, not “alternative facts” – buff, one day got the idea that DOTV could have turned out hella different if Jim Steinman looked for a star lead in other places, decided to reason out how that might work.) This is still getting a good response, so I’m gonna keep the train rolling.

Parts of the AU timeline established so far: instead of stopping at recording two songs from Whistle Down the Wind on a greatest hits compilation, Meat Loaf wound up taking more of an interest in Steinman’s new theater work than he did in our timeline, and through a series of circumstances found himself volunteering to play Krolock in the impending DOTV when Jim poured out his woes to him about needing to find some sort of star to attract investors. At a loss for any better ideas, Jim accepted Meat’s impulsive proposal, but not without resistance from his manager, David Sonenberg, who proposed Michael Crawford as an alternate candidate. Through quick thinking on Meat’s part, and inspiration on Jim’s, Crawford left the room accepting an entirely different role than he walked in hoping to get, leaving Krolock still open for Meat. There was a brief speed bump, when Meat disliked Jim’s English script for the show, but after meeting with the original German author Michael Kunze and convincing Jim to compromise, things were on the road to being back on track... at least until 9/11 occurred. Following a brief hiatus, everyone involved is meeting to re-assess their options.

Continuing the alternate DOTV timeline:

February 2002: After completing the Night of the Proms tour and taking a holiday break, Meat Loaf requests a meeting with co-star Michael Crawford, composer Jim Steinman, co-author Michael Kunze, and the other creatives on DOTV to assess where things are at. Obviously, people have other commitments, so the creative team may not shape up exactly the same as initially planned, but at least they’ll see who’s still coming along for the ride and get a bead on where the show is at. A dinner is planned at Café Carlyle, a cabaret space housed within the hotel of the same name, on the Upper East Side of NYC.

The dinner begins as any dinner involving Jim begins: with Steinman’s ordering disorder on display, and his manager, David Sonenberg, smiting his own forehead so hard it turns purple. Imagine the headwaiter’s surprise when he takes everyone’s order and hears Jim say, “For starters, we’ll have the entire left half, plus two each of the chicken hash, Dover sole, and seafood salad.” “Excuse me, sir... the entire left half of the menu?” “That’s correct. And for the second course, I’ll have another order of the roasted halibut and the filet mignon. What looks good to you guys?” Meat is not at all surprised; with Jim, you get everything and then everything else. “And for dessert, sir?” says the headwaiter, anticipating the massive tip. “Well, why don’t you bring us some New York cheesecake. And, heck, how about an order of the chocolate opera cake? And profiteroles. For everyone to share.” Meat can only laugh at the incredulous expressions of everyone who doesn’t already know Jim. He  orders the table a round of fifty dollar Côtes du Rhône. This’ll be a long one. 

First order of business: is the new script ready? “Not quite,” says Jim without even missing a bite. Meat rolls his eyes; typical Jim. His method is seduction. Jim has ideas for new stuff; he doesn’t always have the results to back them up. If he can talk you into it, he can do it -- eventually. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, it’s a cut and paste job anyway. I do have a synopsis so everyone can see what the show will be like. Rest assured, everything’s back the way you want it.” Steinman gestures to Sonenberg, who passes pages around the table.

We now pause to read said synopsis:

ACT ONE

Some time in the late 19th century, Professor Abronsius, a rather intensely wacky vampire killer, stands trial before the Governors of the University of Heidelberg. He has made a mockery of the school’s good name with his “ridiculous writings and insane theories,” insisting that he can prove vampires (and other supernatural creatures) actually do exist. For this “crime against science,” he is sent packing by his colleagues. His assistant Alfred, handsome if sweetly dim, with an ardent and Byronic underbelly, resolutely stands by his mentor and guide. Now gifted with -- however unwelcome -- free time, they set off on an excursion, hoping to prove the professor’s theory correct, and become lost in a blinding snowstorm (Overture).

We are now in a dark forest, three nights before Halloween, near a remote Transylvanian village somewhere in the Carpathians. Sarah, the beautiful teenage daughter of the local innkeeper, is out picking mushrooms with her easily frightened friends when they come upon an abandoned graveyard in a clearing. To reassure them all is well, she says a prayer (Angels Arise). Suddenly, a pack of very cool young vampires appears out of the mist, dancing with rapturous abandon (God Has Left the Building). Sarah is entranced as a coffin rises from the ground containing the mesmerizing and extremely cool Count Von Krolock, an immortal suitor whose call she finds strangely irresistible. The Count introduces himself to Sarah in a most charming way, sings to her seductively telling her of another world (Original Sin), and promises to return for her at the total eclipse of the moon. The lure of the night is strong, as is the promised deliverance from the mundane world she knows.

Back in the village, at the inn, we meet Sarah’s father, Chagal, his long suffering wife, Rebecca, and his beautiful voluptuous chambermaid, Magda, whom he spends most of his free time lusting after, much to Rebecca's disdain. Together with the local villagers, they demonstrate that nothing perks up men like wine, women and song -- and Garlic. Into the midst of the hustle and bustle burst two strangers, the first in twenty years: Abronsius and Alfred, who have nearly frozen to death in the nearby woods. Although the villagers deny any knowledge of vampires in the proximity, the professor cannot be fooled and becomes increasingly suspicious.

After exploring the rooms upstairs in which they are staying, Alfred meets Sarah. He is instantly smitten by her and vice versa, but having noticed the attraction between them, Chagal, very protective of his child, literally boards-up the door separating them (Don’t Leave Daddy). Since the budding passion of the young is highly flammable his solution proves to be as effective as spit on a forest fire. Unable to sleep, Alfred and Sarah sing of their newly awakened desire for each other (There’s Never Been a Night Like This), but they are not alone in their yearning: Chagal sneaks away from Rebecca -- who swiftly knocks Abronsius on the noggin in a case of mistaken identity -- to pay an unwelcome visit to Magda, and the Count returns to invite Sarah to a grand ball at his castle, offering her a chance to make her wildest dreams a reality, an opportunity to quench her thirst for more (The Invitation). How can any small-time girl resist?

The next day, the idyll of a winter mid-afternoon (Everything’s Fair) is broken when Abronsius witnesses a small business exchange between Chagal and Koukol, a hideous hunchback who lives somewhere in the woods. He inquires about the odd fellow, but Chagal refuses to discuss the matter. This does not deter the professor (Logic). For every question there is an answer and no truth that defies understanding -- or so he believes.

But no law rules the human heart and desire is quite an immeasurable emotion. Alfred also offers Sarah a way out: he begs her to run off and make a new start with him (Braver Than We Are). Too little, too late. Unbeknownst to Alfred, Krolock has sent a gift for Sarah -- a pair of red boots and a vision. Alfred leaves Sarah alone outside for a moment and she puts on the boots; she has a fantastic reverie about dancing with vampires (Red Boots Ballet) and can no longer control herself, try though she might (Say a Prayer). Torn between Alfred and the Count, Sarah runs off to Krolock’s castle, pursued by Chagal, who is in turn pursued by Rebecca and Magda who are concerned for his safety, who are in turn followed by Alfred and Abronsius, reasoning that they will be shown the way to the Count’s lair.

At the giant castle in the woods, they are greeted by watchful eyes in the darkness (Something to Kill (Our Time)), and by the mysterious Krolock and his flamboyant son, Herbert, who is instantly attracted to Alfred (Bless the Night). In the same breath, Krolock taunts Alfred and invites the two men into his domain (Come With Me) and the two reluctantly accept his invitation.

ACT TWO

In the great hall of the castle, Sarah reconciles what was once just a fantasy with her new reality, seduced by and embracing her inevitable indoctrination to this family (Vampires in Love (Total Eclipse of the Heart)). Sarah is entranced as Krolock makes his way down the staircase toward her. What has long been just a notion inside her is now a man before her. She willingly offers him her throat, although he resists the urge to bite her there and then.

Meanwhile, given a room, Abronsius sleeps soundly while Alfred is tormented by a nightmare (Carpe Noctem) that is a peculiar reflection of reality. In the dream he is a creature of the night. The following morning Alfred bravely swears that above fear and beyond doubt he will stay there in the hope of saving her (For Sarah).

But Abronsius is more concerned with capturing the Count and his son as specimens to prove his theory. Alfred and the professor make their way to the crypt, hoping to locate the two vampires, but instead they encounter the freshly dead Chagal. Before Abronsius can think of something else, Alfred hears what he believes to be Sarah singing and the hapless duo flee the crypt just as Rebecca and Magda arrive. Encountering Chagal's bitten body, Rebecca grieves while Magda gloats (Death Is Such an Odd Thing). In death she finds him to be far more bearable than in life. Chagal wakes-up and bites them both.

Truly, love is in the air. As Chagal cements his eternity with the women he loves in tow, Alfred has a close encounter with Herbert, who has set his sights on him. The smitten Herbert waltzes with an unwilling Alfred singing a song of love and longing (When Love Is Inside You). Herbert’s attempt to draw blood from the young man is thwarted by quick thinking, but to add insult to injury, Alfred then finds Sarah bathing in preparation of that evening’s ball. He begs her to flee with him, but his plea falls on deaf ears -- she is dying to go.

Meanwhile, Abronsius’ search through the castle has taken him to the library, which he enthusiastically discovers is stocked with every book ever written (Books, Books). The Count, who initially pretends admiration for the professor and offers him eternal life, confronts him, taking the opportunity to boast that the the battle for Alfred’s soul is already complete and that he is the victor.

To his horror, Abronsius, joined by Alfred, watches as, in throngs, the vampires crawl from their coffins, cursing the redundancy of their existence and eager to devour (Eternity). At the same moment, stung by Abronsius’ rejection, Count Von Krolock laments the truth of his being (Confession of a Vampire) and makes a bleak prediction: before the turn of the next millennium mankind, overcome by greed, will know only one god -- the god of appetite.

Speaking of appetite, the moment has arrived! The Count and his brethren are eager to proceed (The Ball: Never Be Enough). Sarah is presented while a disguised professor and Alfred wait for an opportunity to rescue her -- a chance that unfortunately comes only after she is willfully and gloriously bitten. In the midst of the climactic vampire dance (The Minuet), they take hold of Sarah and run.

Stopping in the woods to rest, Alfred once more professes his love to Sarah and the two lovers embrace, singing of their born-again freedom (Braver Than We Are (Reprise)). He believes all is well until the second she sinks her teeth into his neck. Once bitten the couple takes off to begin a life that will know no end. Meanwhile, oblivious to what is happening around him, Professor Abronsius revels over the information he has unearthed about the existence of vampires, unaware that their numbers have grown. As the Reign of the Undead begins, everybody somehow manages to find happiness... Transylvania-style (The Dance of the Vampires).

Back to our regularly scheduled program:

Meat is forced to admit Jim’s right. Based solely on this synopsis, it would be a cut-and-paste job, and it does answer all of the objections he had. Moving the Heidelberg scene to the top of the show reorients things just enough so that at least the focus is shared between Alfred and Sarah. On top of that, every song is where it should be, “Is Nothing Sacred” has been cut from Act II (it appeared in both earlier versions as a duet between Alfred and Sarah lamenting the loss of their love, but for once everyone was in agreement that it slowed the show down and there was no way to make it work), and no climactic shape-shifting transformation to be found (Jim has never been one to hide spoilers). As soon as the actual script is put together, this could be a working product.

Crawford is momentarily rattled by the Alfred-and-Abronsius prologue. “Bit like Phantom to start with foreshadowing and then plunge in?” he mutters under his breath. But Meat counters, with a grin: “I think it’s more like the opening of Psycho, wouldn’t ya say, Jim?” Meat, of course, knows what’s coming. Jim has seen Psycho 23 times; he thinks that if you’re learning about film, you don’t have to go beyond Psycho, because you can watch it a thousand times and find something new each time. All he has to do is settle in and let Jim talk Crawford’s ear off: “Psycho begins, if you watch it, with a long shot of Arizona, a satellite view of the whole state of Arizona, or at least the city of Phoenix. Long shot of the whole city. And then, the camera goes into one area. Then one block, and then one building, and then through the window of that building, to Janet Leigh and John Gavin in bed, nude, having sex. You start at an extreme distance, and it keeps getting closer and closer until it ends up where the story begins.”

Crawford is flummoxed. “...but... how is that...” Before he can get another word in edgewise, Jim is off on a stream-of-conscious flight of fancy: “Lost inside a blinding snowstorm, an innocent boy and a man of science... an unspoken certainty -- where something is shattered, something is breaking through... then their suspicions are proven correct... the wilds of Transylvania... the shadow of a dark knight looms large... you set up the hero first, and then right at the beginning, you need the big horror scene, like when the shark attacks the girl in Jaws, and then in the next scene everything is fine and you go on to tell the story.” Twenty minutes of free association from film to film later, his head spinning, Crawford stops Jim: “Jim, I, uh... I think I get it. Sounds grand. Let’s move on, shall we?” Meat, with a grin: “Waiter? More Côtes du Rhône for my English friend here.”

It’s Sonenberg’s turn to speak about the financial picture, and unfortunately, he is pretty much the bearer of bad news: “We’ve got nothing.” “What about your share of the investment?” Jim shoots back. “I raised my share, but that’s all I raised! Andrew Braunsberg threw in his share, too, but ours combined won’t bring you this show! This is gonna cost at least 12 million, it’s not like either of us has a small fortune tucked away! Do you know how much it will cost for that fucking coffin to rocket out the floor? And let’s say we keep the designs from Europe, which -- by the way -- we can’t afford to do even if we get investors, who’s paying for the six-ton graveyard to come down from fifty feet in the air? Shows cost four times as much on Broadway as they do in Europe! And this is before we get into the fact that we had readings and workshops that didn’t come cheap, even though we had other people shouldering the burden with us. When they walked...” “When they walked, I did what you said! You said we needed stars to boost the box office -- we have two of them! You said we needed the show to have more of a balance between horror and comedy -- we’re nearly there! We’ve done readings, we’ve done workshops, there should be a list of interested investors by now! You’re telling me I followed every instruction you gave me and we couldn’t attract producers?!” “Jim, that happens. The odds of failure in any show biz endeavor are astronomical. You know this. I have this conversation with you time and time again.” “So basically you called this meeting to raise our hopes and then tell us it’s a wash, is that it?!”

Meat can’t bear to see Jim like this. He never could. Jim is always within steps of achieving his dream and never quite getting there, and it’s usually due to Sonenberg’s interference. “Guys, guys, before things get too heated and we say stuff we might regret... look at who is at this table. We’ve got a major arena rocker, two Grammy-winning songwriters, we’ve got the biggest box office star in musical theater, we have a music manager with a list of clients as big as my ass. We know promoters, theater owners, rich people with cash to burn, we make more contacts shaking hands at industry parties than we know what to do with. Between all of us, we’ve got to be able to rustle up some investment coin!”

Meat turns to Crawford. “Michael, I know you were up for my part for, like, twenty seconds. Were you bringing any investors to the table for that?” “Now that you mention it, yes, there were a handful.” “Call them. Explain the situation. Tell them we’re looking to cut costs and bring this show in tight, so they can look at our numbers, offer suggestions for a way forward.”

He swivels in his seat to the other Michael at the table. “Mr. Kunze, was there any interest from other American producers before the show started on this path?” “We had this husband-and-wife couple who were major producers book tickets to opening night in Vienna, but they canceled last minute.” “Any chance you remember who they are?” Sonenberg cuts in: “Barry and Fran Weissler, but...” “The Weisslers? As in the Weisslers who did Chicago? The license-to-print-money Weisslers? We need a meeting with them ASAP.”

Meat now focuses on Sonenberg. “Look, Jim is pissed at you right now, and understandably so, but we need all hands on deck. David, is there anybody you can think of that might come to the table?” “Well... I am about to have lunch with Jerry Weintraub about a film project. You win an Oscar, they all come knocking.” “I remember Jerry, he started in talent management and concert promotion. Theater is a good way for him to combine those interests. He may not bite, but bring up the project anyway.”

Jim weakly tosses in, his engines beginning to rev again: “I could talk to Leonard Soloway. He’s never been major on Broadway, mainly a house or company manager, but he’s produced before, and he’s been looking to move back into that sector. He was very interested in this at the reading last April. He called it a gem.” “The worst that he can say is no, and we’re already starting a list to go down, so give him a buzz,” Meat says. 

“As for me, I’m gonna talk to Michael Cohl.” Sonenberg is skeptical: “The concert promoter?” “He’s handled packages as big as this, you know who he’s worked with, it’s practically an encyclopedia of the business. Maybe he wants to move into producing.” “He also wants to put his hand in the till. He’s a chiseler. A bunch of managers complained about him a few years back; he was working this scheme where he told their clients playing this festival in Toronto that there was a sales tax that was coming out of their pay, and a gate charge reflected in the ticket price. Festival’s exempt from that tax and the organization that runs it has no gate charge. He was putting hundreds of thousands in his pocket.” “So,” interrupts Jim, “you’re saying he has money to spend, and he knows how to cut corners and get more.” “Oh sure, Jim, because we want to line up with a whiff of anything illegal on a high risk investment. I’m just saying, if we bring him on, there have to be stringent safeguards. We’ll need to double- and triple-check every transaction that comes through him.” “Well,” says Meat, momentarily unable to check his inner self-control, “he can’t do any worse than the advice I was getting in 1981.” “Oh sure, dig up that dead horse and start beating it again!” Sonenberg fires back.

Before the conversation can get out of control, Meat somehow manages to rein himself in: “Alright, look, let’s not get off the subject at hand here. We thought things were hopeless only moments ago, but now we have a list of... Michael, how many investors were interested again?” “Three.” “Okay, and that plus Cohl, Jerry, Leonard, and the Weisslers -- not to mention Braunsberg and David -- puts us at 10, if everyone signs on. Even if some of them say no, we should still be farther ahead than we were on the producing front. This project is not dead.”

“It might as well be,” Sonenberg grouses. “John Caird’s off attending to other commitments, Ezralow’s doing a Josh Groban TV special, and we need a new set of designs. You tell me where we’re gonna find a whole new creative team.” “David, I don’t have the highest opinion of you, but I know you’re not stupid. You’re not seriously implying that this production only looked into one person for each position, right? Surely we can look around at a few people and get some opinions.” “Besides,” Jim chimes in, “the director problem is already solved. I was co-directing, now all I have to do is call Barry [Keating, Jim’s right-hand man and a Tony-nominated composer in his own right] in to be my assistant and we’ll whip this into shape.”

A deathly silence descends upon the table. Meat is brave enough to be the first to speak: “Actually, I think we need to interview some directors, too.” “Why go to the trouble? I have it under control.” For once, Sonenberg agrees with Meat and says so: “You think you have it under control. Things have been pretty serious in this conversation so far, let’s be real right now: you’ve never directed a musical this big in your life. You and Barry are fine for a workshop, but this is a spectacular with a lot of moving elements.” “I can’t believe I’m hearing this! Half the show in Vienna I had to talk Polanski into doing. Or did it behind his back. A lot! He had a totally different vision.” “Jim, giving notes and making contributions that people agree with is not the same thing as directing.” “I’ve directed music videos!” “You’ve story-boarded music videos.” “What about that one I directed for Bonnie that was nominated for seven Billboard Video Awards?” “Did it win any?!” Meat once again has to halt the argument brewing: “Look, Jim, we need to be serious about this if you want it to work. It can’t hurt to just talk to a few other people. We’re not committing to them.” Steinman is momentarily silenced, but his sour expression betrays he’s still displeased with the present turn of events.

“Now, as for the choreographer...” Meat says. Jim perks up again: “Barry could...” Sonenberg slams his fist on the table: “You shut up or you lose a toe! Go on, Meat.” “Alright, we’re not opening till October, and that means we’re not starting in earnest until August. That’s after the Tony Awards. Let’s see if any real talent emerges this season, and if worse comes to worst, we’ll just hire whoever won.” “That doesn’t solve our problem with the design team, though. Even if we get them signed by June or July, that’s not nearly enough time to design, approve, and execute a whole show.” “Well, we can start talking to people now, and maybe they’ll even give us some clues about a choreographer or director, if there’s someone they’ve worked with who they really liked.” At a loss for any other way to proceed, Sonenberg nods gravely.

At meeting’s end, everyone is in concurrence on the next course of action: actually finish the script, schmooze with potential investors or producers, and put together a new creative team. Preferably not all at the same time, but with the crunch on, they’ll do whatever needs to be done.

Didn’t expect this to be so short or focus on one event, but our heroes have lots of ground to cover. Catch you next time!

[gdelgiproducer]

Yes, I get what you mean. I like Kunze's version as much as Steinman's version. He said it so himself: TEOTH is a vampire love song. But I think that, because TEOTH entered the cultural landscape as a bombastic pop love song, it takes an incredible amount of suspension of disbelief for the American audiences to take TEOTH/Totale Finsternis as a serious love song between human and vampire, forever tarnishing the chances of a more faithful Western adaptation of Tanz der Vampire.

While I agree it’s hard for English-speaking audiences (I wouldn’t say just Americans) to swallow for that reason, I don’t think “Total Eclipse…” is the biggest thing “forever tarnishing the chances of a more faithful Western adaptation of Tanz der Vampire” as you put it. There’s a whole hell of a lot more standing in its way. 

(For example: people dredging up the DOTV saga as proof that “vampire musicals don’t work” every Halloween or so. Nobody has let the Broadway version’s shitty reputation dissipate long enough to give it another chance. And that’s just one example.)

[gdelgiproducer]

Continued discussion of the new(-ish) ending to “Tanz” (3)

(Apologies for those following this thread, as this particular post delves briefly into “For Sarah” territory based on comments made on the last post.)

pheavampire:

Actually I think both moments for this song are ok. This way or another Alfred tries to be brave and expresses his motivation to find Sarah, although he is scared, so for me it’s not that big difference.

Fair enough! (Not really a fan of the Polish placement, but I get why it works for you.)

dostresseisdostres:

I don’t know what you said in the previous discussion and I’m sorry for intruding but imo For Sarah really should just stay where it was in the original production and be performed in the way they did in the original production. :( 

I assume you’re referring to where it was prior to the Polish run (namely, Act II, Scene 6, where Alfred and Sarah meet in the castle bathroom)? I understand feeling that way, but let me explain why I like (roughly) where Berlin put it:

Let me start by saying I get the point of “For Sarah,” I know that it’s intended to be Alfred’s big “statement of purpose” in the latter half of the show and all that. The only problem with that is, no matter where one puts the song, it inevitably stops the show’s momentum cold. Everything comes to a grinding halt for a gratuitous love song at a time when the plot should really be racing to the next climax. (Plus, she has just made it clear she doesn’t want to be “saved”; is it really an appropriate time for Alfred to launch into a dramatic declaration of his love, and declare that he will fight any foe for her? It’s a little... icky, for lack of a better way of putting it. It doesn’t sit well with me.)

For that reason, and the one in parentheses above, I’m not really a fan of the original spot, and I understand why people have tried to fix this problem, not that I always agree with it.

Example: the team behind the Polish production evidently recognized this issue, but inexplicably chose to solve it by making it Act I’s problem instead of Act II’s, moving it to Act I, Scene 8 following Sarah’s escape to the castle. That’s not really a solution, and besides, that placement gives the song new problems: wait, so she literally just told you she’s had a better offer, ran away from you, and your instinct is to basically shout “my love for you burns with the white hot intensity of a thousand suns, I will come to rescue you!”? Poor signal reading at best.

So when Berlin moved it back to Act II, and specifically to Scene 3 after Alfred awakens from his nightmare, I felt it’s still not the greatest spot, but it’s also a moment that does the least damage to the plot engine, and a moment with the most dramatic heft: Alfred wakes from his nightmare, and in his thankfulness that Sarah is not truly lost, he realizes how much he loves her and the lengths he’s willing to go to in order to save her. It’s organic to the moment, it’s not unsettling, and it serves more of a purpose.

For the record... in my team’s translation, we kept it in that post-“Carpe Noctem” scene but moved it literally to the moment he wakes up, specifically replacing the spot where Koukol scares him in the original, and then picking up where Abronsius awakens when the song is over. A minor adjustment, but, I think, even better than Berlin.

[gdelgiproducer]

Hi there! You mentioned that you disliked the new ending to Tanz der Vampire. I would really like to know your reasons for this if possible since I myself find it to be a huge improvement. I am very interested to hear your opinion :)

Glad to elaborate!

First of all, it’s not that I’m against any new additions regardless of whether or not they work. Unlike some Tanz fans, I can handle something new if it works. I weigh things on a case by case basis, and I think the assertion that one can improve things about their previous work with the benefit of experience is not invalid. Having said that, it’s generally hard to do it in a way that is “of a piece” with the rest of the show, and in most cases, it comes off very forced, very clumsy, mediocre, and arbitrary, and incongruous to the voicing of the show overall. 

In my opinion, such is the case with the new ending. To me, it sticks out like a sore thumb; it doesn’t really fit in with the rest of the show. It feels like an unnecessary interruption just when we’re winding things up, and it works just as well – if not better, in my opinion – without it as it does with it, proof being that Stage Entertainment has yet to add it to their long-running production and no one has ever complained (at least to my knowledge).

Secondly, when it comes to additions, usually I expect adding something to serve a purpose, to tie up some sort of loose end or clear up something that wasn’t clear elsewhere in the show. The new ending doesn’t really do that. There’s nothing wrong with the show’s ending as it was (to me, the old adage “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it” applies in this case), and the new ending adds nothing of substance to what has come before it (aside from Abronsius not being so self-involved that he fails to notice Alfred is missing, and Krolock showing up… pretty much just to show up, no one’s explanation of the new ending has made it clear exactly why that happens). Everybody still has the same fate: Sarah still turns vampire, Alfred still gets bitten, Abronsius still doesn’t understand that he actually messed up big time, and the vampires still take over the world. It’s a couple of extra minutes that change absolutely nothing and seem to occur for no real reason, unless someone can explain that to me. (And if it was added to explain Alfred, Sarah, and Krolock appearing in the final dance sequence, then that’s flimsy justification. One can seamlessly add those characters to the choreography without needing to add a whole scene before it.)

I’d like it if it worked, but for me, it doesn’t. And if the show still works just as well without it, then there’s no real reason to have it. Know what I mean?

(I should add that my team’s translation, developed from 2007-09, didn’t include it, and nobody on the side of the authors objected to the new ending not being there when the script was submitted to them. By the time we were wrapping up work on the script, we knew it existed, and could certainly have added it if requested. If they really cared, they’d have made a point of saying so, don’t you think?)

[gdelgiproducer]

DOTV AU: An Exercise in Alternate History (Part IV)

Parts I, II, and III offer more detailed context. (To briefly sum up why these posts are happening: alt history -- as in sci fi, not “alternative facts” -- buff, one day got the idea that DOTV could have turned out hella different if Jim Steinman looked for a star lead in other places, decided to reason out how that might work.) This is still getting a good response, so I’m gonna keep the train rolling.

Parts of the AU timeline established so far: instead of stopping at recording two songs from Whistle Down the Wind on a greatest hits compilation, Meat Loaf wound up taking more of an interest in Steinman’s new theater work than he did in our timeline, and through a series of circumstances found himself volunteering to play Krolock in the impending DOTV when Jim poured out his woes to him about needing to find some sort of star to attract investors. At a loss for any better ideas, Jim accepted Meat’s impulsive proposal, but not without resistance from his manager, David Sonenberg, who proposed Michael Crawford as an alternate candidate. Through quick thinking on Meat’s part, and inspiration on Jim’s, Crawford left the room accepting an entirely different role than he walked in hoping to get, leaving Krolock still open for Meat. There’s been a brief speed bump, when Meat dislikes Jim’s English script for the show, but after meeting with the original German author Michael Kunze and convincing Jim to compromise, things are hopefully on the road to being back on track.

Continuing the alternate DOTV timeline:

August 11, 2001: After some discussion with Meat Loaf, and back-and-forth with Michael Kunze over changes from Tanz in the creation of DOTV, Jim Steinman (and co-authors John Caird and David Ives) closes the book on a new draft of the script. It is sent to Meat, co-star Michael Crawford, and members of the creative team for review.

Meat has to admit, he’s pleased with the results. The mix of humor and score is more consistent, and for still veering farther from the German show than Meat’s comfortable with, it’s not altogether terrible like the May draft was. There are still things he would like to see changed in one more re-draft (the “Invitation to the Ball” sequence has grown too lengthy, “Carpe Noctem” now closes Act One in a bizarre hybrid with part of what was once the Act One finale, and Krolock shape-shifts into an alien monster during the ball sequence for no apparent reason; cut the shape-shifting, restore the original “Invitation,” and put “Carpe Noctem” and the Act One finale back the way they belong, and he’ll be a happy camper), but overall, this is much stronger. If he can’t get it closer to the European version, he’ll be pretty happy with this as the final result.

No complaints from Crawford either: Abronsius is a strong character with a comic accent, most of the show’s laughs, some heartwarming moments with Alfred (a slight change from the crabbier professor of the European version that Crawford has zero issue with; every performer wants to be loved because of their character, not in spite of it)... he can hold his own against Meat Loaf’s legendary command of the stage and isn’t stuck playing second banana. He’s ready for rehearsals!

Michael Kunze can’t help agreeing with Meat’s assessment of what needs to be changed, but aside from that, he, too, is surprised at how good the draft is. It addresses many of the problems that even the German show’s fans have acknowledged -- it improves the pacing, increases character development, little to no time is wasted on subplots that go nowhere. It’s still not quite his show anymore; it’s easier on the audience, more comical, but this has working ingredients. It’s new, modern, more like Rocky Horror, aimed at a younger audience, not a show for tourist parties from New Jersey. The critics will have their knives out for it -- they tend to be conservative and prefer classics with straw hats, showboating choreography, and the big-band sound that he loathes -- but that doesn’t matter so much if the audience still buys tickets. The physical production will still more or less resemble Vienna and Stuttgart; this script, combined with the score, special effects, grandiose scenery, and breathtaking choreography, could stand a chance.

Now planning can finally take a more concrete form. The goal is to bring it to Broadway for previews in March 2002, with the official opening in April, followed by runs in Los Angeles and London. Caird and Steinman are still set to co-direct; frequent Julie Taymor collaborator Daniel Ezralow is on tap for choreography. The original German designs will be replicated. Preliminary casting is even beginning for other parts: Steinman is intent on luring Aris Sas to American shores to reprise the role of Alfred, which he had made his own in the original Vienna and Stuttgart productions, having long had designs on turning him into a pop star. Further casting sessions are lined up for September.

August 23, 2001: The announcement is made in Variety, confirming Meat’s and Crawford’s casting, Jim’s co-directing with Caird, and all the relevant details. In a gallant move on Sonenberg and co-producer Andrew Braunsberg’s part, the production is announced to be dedicated to the memory of Steve Barton, Tanz’s original Krolock, who had passed away in mid-July. For his part, representatives from Meat’s management announce that he will be donating a portion of his salary to a trust for Steve’s son, Edward, and his family, which goes down really well with Barton’s fans. Tellingly, however, Allen Kovac himself offers no comment.

September 11, 2001, 8:45 AM E.S.T.: a horrific terrorist attack rocks the city of New York, and the nation of America. This event, impossible to ignore, changes everything. Many musicals getting ready to make the jump to Broadway are suddenly not so sure, but the situation is doubly insecure for DOTV: most of the show’s major creative team (including co-director Caird and Sas, one of the major leads) is based in London and Europe, and with flights being cancelled en masse, it’ll be hard to make head-way and open before the Tony Awards cut-off date as initially planned. For that matter, a musical comedy about dead people where the bad guys win, no matter how funny, suddenly seems in very poor taste.

October 5, 2001: Due to the impracticality of planning successfully after the massacre, realizing there is no way to follow the initial plan, the producers of DOTV announce that its opening is being postponed to October 24, 2002. 

With Meat’s schedule suddenly free, an admittedly relieved Kovac is able to tell the organizers of Night of the Proms that he will be able to honor his original commitment to tour with them from the end of October until just before the holidays. Meat, though a little annoyed that Kovac kept the deal going behind his back, welcomes the distraction: Jim needs time to incorporate the rewrites he suggested, and he needs to get out there and entertain people the only way he knows how, the better to raise some spirits. Besides, it’ll only be a matter of time before he is consumed with his character and unable to tour in the manner to which his fans have become accustomed, and he owes it to his band to give them one last paycheck before he commits to an extended period without them. His stint with the Proms is a success, and during its stops in eight German cities, Meat talks about his forthcoming role and, as a special bonus for Tanz fans, premieres his performance of what he calls “Confession of a Vampire,” the English version of “Die unstillbare Gier.” (Tanz fans complain the lyrics are too close in places to Meat Loaf’s original “Objects in the Rear View Mirror...” but many grudgingly acknowledge his performance already has the gravitas appropriate to the role.)

Over till next time. If you like it, keep following!

[gdelgiproducer]

Here be the start of a certain podcast’s social media outreach. Follow us, won’t you?

[gdelgiproducer]

Mr. Gdelgi, I have read the Kunze '97 script and the May '01 Workshop one. Is it inevitable/inescapable to recycle almost literally the lyrics to Total Eclipse of the Heart as Totale Finsternis, or was it a conscious choice on Mr. Steinman's part? I ask this because every other adaptation, barring Broadway, managed to divorce itself from its pop song origins, at least to me. A fantranslation some time ago wrote very original lyrics, based mostly on Totale Finsternis, not on TEOTH.

Well, in the German version, Michael Kunze obviously took the opportunity to weave his own tapestry in lyrics, and I’m sure translators for other European productions have followed that lead as well, but in the sanctioned English versions by Kunze and/or Steinman, the song has always more or less resembled the original version of “Total Eclipse of the Heart.” (Even in my team’s version, it was fairly close to the pop lyrics. In our case, the lead translator felt that one doesn’t rewrite a Grammy-winning hit if they don’t have to.)

I’ve always felt that in general, aside from amending a word or phrase here and there as needed, if one ignores the fact that the bulk of the song already existed as a pop single, it works surprisingly well as part of the story as is. My theory is that the main reason the lyrics changed in any non-English edition is that Steinman writes very colloquially, using a lot of common English catchphrases and cliches, in a manner that doesn’t always translate well to other languages, and so the translators are forced to fend for themselves. (And sometimes it works out well: Kunze managed to turn the untranslatable idiom “Turn around, bright eyes” into a Nietzsche reference, and crafted a lyric in which Sarah compares her doomed love to a total eclipse leaving her adrift at sea with no land in sight. Get it? ‘Cause the moon… tides… yeah, you get the picture.) 

My point being, although some fans who have tried to capture the European words in English have done a fantastic job over the years, I don’t think the English version was ever intended to be particularly different from the pop song; just ask Jim Steinman: “[For the original production] in Vienna, I had only a month and a half to write this whole show and we needed a big love duet… I remembered I actually wrote [“Total Eclipse of the Heart”] to be a vampire love song. Its original title was ‘Vampires in Love’ because I was working on a musical of Nosferatu, the other great vampire story. If anyone listens to the lyrics, they’re really like vampire lines. It’s all about the darkness, the power of darkness and love’s place in dark. And so I figured ‘Who’s ever going to know; it’s Vienna!’ And then it was just hard to take it out.” No mention or implication in there, or anywhere, of doing any lifting more heavy than the minor differences that exist between the DOTV and pop versions.

Also… please, call me G for short. It’s easier. Gdelgi is not a name, it’s a portmanteau of my first initial and part of my surname.

[gdelgiproducer]

Late anniversary presents

October 4 marked the twentieth anniversary of the world premiere of Tanz der Vampire in Vienna (kudos to Jim Steinman, Michael Kunze, and all associated with the creation of that popular European rock musical), and marking that anniversary got me thinking about my personal anniversary connected to the show.

As some of you may know, it's also been 10 years (last month) since I was first engaged on a project very close to my heart: a new English bid on Tanz, solicited by one of its creators. Rest assured, Tanz fans, this wasn't going to be a retread of Dance of the Vampires. My team (and I, as the exec producer) worked very long and very hard on a new translation/adaptation that was true to the German material, similar in form, meaning, and spirit, while also having our own unique sense of poetry, language, etc., geared to the sensibilities of an English-speaking audience.

For a variety of reasons, this project has not yet moved forward. A planned reading in the summer of 2010 with Broadway caliber talent didn't happen, and it's been in limbo ever since (I mean, I personally have never quite let it go, but the level of activity has varied over the past seven years or so).

I still have my memories. And the script, which is fantastic (but, due to confidentiality, unable to be shared). And... a handful of demos. They're rough (the vocals aren’t processed to a professional level, the singers occasionally drop a word here and there), but they're good; the vocalists have a gorgeous quality, and they show how well the lyrics fit the melody (accurate to the German recordings, with a few of our accents thrown in).

As the demos are available at our discretion, I decided to celebrate the 20th anniversary of Tanz my way, by shedding a little light on the 10th anniversary of the version that never came to be. Here are two demos of Krolock’s material  (sung by two very different vocalists, when we were considering two very different ways to view the character) for the listening pleasure (hopefully) of #tanzblr.

First, “Hungry for Love,” known as "Gott ist tot" to German-speaking fans:

And second, “Endless Appetite,” known as “Die unstillbare Gier” to German-speaking fans:

(Obligatory copyright info is in the video descriptions. Please note that no commercial usage of these selections can be made whatsoever without the permission of Messrs. Steinman and Kunze.)