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Review
“An absorbing… account of one of show biz's more bizarre real-life adventures.” (USA Today)“Mr. Berger knows how to write, and he can tell a good story.” (New York Times)“Juicy and entertaining…” (Entertainment Weekly)"Hilarious and engrossing. . .” (Miami Herald-Tribune)“Self-deprecating, funny, wise… and more than a little wistful…” (American Theatre Magazine)“Spider-Man: Turn Off the Dark turned out to be a dud, but Berger’s book is one of the best recent accounts of the making and unmaking of a big Broadway show.” (Connecticut Post)“This book should be required reading for all theater students.” (TheaterMania.com)“This juicy memoir offers up the requisite dirt to make a satisfying read for Broadway carrions and disaster junkies alike….” (TheaterMania.com)“An entertaining tell-all about this infamous musical that, in the fall of 2010, made headlines almost every day…. an accurate and candid account.” (New York Post)“[A] captivating new tell-all….a fascinating conflict between art and commerce, ideology and reality, and friends-turned-enemies….If you only know Turn Off the Dark for the countless jokes it spawned, illuminate yourself to the true story of what happened. It's more funny and strange than you could have possibly imagined.” (Topless Robot)
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About the Author
Glen Berger cut his teeth at Seattle’s Annex Theatre back in the ’90s. His plays include Underneath the Lintel, and O Lovely Glowworm.He is a New Dramatists alumnus. In television, Glen has won two Emmys (out of twelve nominations), and has written more than 150 episodes for children’s television series. Glen spent six years cowriting the script of Spider-Man: Turn Off the Dark.
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Product details
Paperback: 384 pages
Publisher: Simon & Schuster; Reprint edition (November 18, 2014)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1451684576
ISBN-13: 978-1451684575
Product Dimensions:
5.5 x 1 x 8.4 inches
Shipping Weight: 12 ounces (View shipping rates and policies)
Average Customer Review:
4.2 out of 5 stars
93 customer reviews
Amazon Best Sellers Rank:
#151,949 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
Glen Berger's very well written, truly entertaining and fascinatingly terrifying account of what he experienced as co-book writer of one of the more tortured and torturous of Broadway musicals, "Spiderman, Turn Off The Dark" (what is with that title?), is a vivid, delicious, and unnervingly appalling account about why, how, when, and what because of whom, all of those “involved†in bringing this absurd idea for a Broadway musical, that then ate up hundreds of people's lives for SIX YEARS trying to justify itself. How the production not only went off the rails, but melted them away while attempting to gain acceleration, is fascinating. When you have no idea what you're driving, while listening to Thirty different driver's GPS directions simultaneously, it is hardly surprising that you either don't GET anywhere, or get JUST... somewhere. This book serves as a reiteration, a reminder, should anyone in the theatrical community need one, of how incredibly idiotic is even the CONCEPT of a collaborative art. Bringing together thirty good, valuable, enthusiastic and experienced artists; writers, actors, dancers, designers (all who do what they do because it is what they ARE), and then to allow this odd, outside... important, yes, PERSON to, because of one huge past success, tell all of the assembled artists what to DO is... rather idiotic.Note: The very existence of "directors" is a rather new theatrical concept, and unfortunatmy has turned into an actual JOB. This "director" is , IMHO, the person most responsible for a show's failure, and the person least responsible for a show's success, As the saying goes, "If you want to be in the theater but have no actual talent, the only option left is to become a director."THEN, come the most influential of ALL INVOLVED. The NON-artists. The “producersâ€. The “business people†who think of the musical they have enabled financially, is just another toaster or television or plant or app. Something, not to be made, but to MAKE. Money. ALL of these enablers exist outside the theatrical community. Which is fine, but... shut up. Thank you, the check cleared, we used your money it as best we could, here’s your amazing seats for that-which-no-longer-exists (and that, with their meddling, brought THIS show’s thing-that-no-longer-exists into something that manipulated attention bringing astonishing clarity to the pretense of it’s pretend existence, “The Opening Nightâ€. This show had/didn’t have, oh, maybe seven clothes-free Emporers? Erasing even the agreed-upon PRETENCE Of it’s existence to an unfortunate halt (we theater people need a night to give the rest of the company gifts, cards, “Break A Legsâ€, culminating at a party at (Whee!) Sardis, where, as soon as the reviews, written days, even weeks prior to “opening night†come in, and, within six minutes, the only participants remaining are also the only people who ACTUALLY CARED! They cared enough to, eight times a week, for seemingly several YEARS, stand there (or hang thereâ€) in front of people, desperately trying to camouflage the corpse, make it smile and point and pretend to be alive, while the confused, irritated, hating you, stumbling early toward the exits, THOUSANDS of people who’d actually paid large amounts of their own hard-earned money, to sit there in rows and watch (look up at, duck away from) the only people involved in the production who were actually EARNING every cent they werebeing paid. And, yes, they BROKE their legs (and arms, and ribs and backs), trying to interpret-into-something coherent the CHAOS “created†by those people who either were at home, were hiding in the bathrooms, or were sitting in the eight row aisle, furiously writing down “notes†to, three hours after these brave, dedicated, endlessly-hopefull alchemists had failed yet again, as would anyone, to turn this bloated testicle into a enjoyably received... SOMETHING. Something that the thousands of people facing them in uncomfortable rows, hating THEM because they were the only people involved in this disgustingly manipulated BALL, whom they could SEE. And, thus, unload upon THEM their loathing of what EVERYONE ELSE BUT THEM had actually created. Those that, eight times a week for it-felt-like-several-years, they MADE get into costumes and rope-rigs, and go out there and, IN FRONT OF PEOPLE, commit ALL OF THEIR SINS. And, it was these few dedicated artists and true theatrical dreamers who’d been ABANDONNED. ONSTAGE. Contracturally forced to say and sing and fly and fall off things while ACTUALLY REALLY TRYING to somehow both lift up and disguise the seventeen ton bloated BALL they were EXPECTED TO turn into Audrey Hepburn’s neck. Or, Patti Lupone’s voice. Or Hugh Jackson’s everything. THEY would be given these frantically written down notes, from the producers, the directors, the choreographers, as if it had been THEY who had taken Audrey Hepburn by the neck and publically STRANGLE HER. Something that the most powerful of those associated with the production, also the most clueless, were PAYING THEM TO DO, eight times a week. Eventually, to their credit, they replaced “the public strangling of Audrey Hepburn’s neck†into “the public gouging-out of Bette Davis’s eyesâ€, finally deciding to open with “the public spectacle of Hugh Jackman, drugged with 22 mgs of Klonopin, and who’d permanently lost his voice earlier that day, at the start of his two hours of rehearsal, when he’d first opened his mouth sing even one note of the show’s completely rewritten-the-night-before score, who they’d THEN directed to stand mutely upstage, in very low lighting, facing only toward the audience and wearing a large woman’s moss green blouse and a pair of black, VERY VERY LOOSE PANTS, so that even if he DID forget his blocking and turn around, the audience, even those with binoculars, STILL could not make out the shape of his ASS. The first-ever produforty-seven six thousand investors and generally one corporate entity representing a vaguely related field. These enablers, who likely don't share a soul between them, were the ones who told Whoever Was Directing what to tell Audrey, Bette and Hugh to do. This far too numerous group of enablers, who should have been TOLD that they’d never have a musical as entertaining, joyful, hopeful and pure, and actually representative of why the show EXISTED, as it was at the play's very first table read. From then on, most often, mauled by scores of fat, purile hands, it’s usually all down hill from there. With every note given, every decision made in every urgent producers-directors meeting, this potentially entertaining mistake continues its transition from something hopeful into a lumbering, blinded beast with nine heads, seventeen arms, one leg, but mostly all ball. The Conglomerate chews away, undermining, sabotaging and punishing those with talent and good ideas, blaming the only people capable of making the show the most good it could be. The actors are why a good show succeeds or fails. YES, the writers, the composers, etc, contribute. But it is THE ACTORS THEY who make a terrible show either a wonderfully received one, a bearably tolerated one, or a living hell. CASTING is ALL. How often does a play “openâ€, get lousy reviews and audience response and close, only to open again, years later, in a smaller venue but with THIS time with an appropriate cast, and all of a sudden the play is "Fabulous!" , "A Revelation! , "A Huge Hit!" . Same play. Different, better-cast, actirs. If a show has been well cast, GET OUT OF THEIR WAY. BUT! ALL of this presumes that the actors are given a SHOW to perform! With “Spider-Man, I Can See Your Testiclesâ€, they were NOT. There was NOTHING they could do without a show in which to do it. They could just as easily been handed a mix-tape made by a teenager in 1974 and a transcript of everything said by the passengers on The A Train between West 57th Street and 181st Street between 1:10 PM and 12:14 AM on Thursday, September Seventeenth, 2012, and told “See you opening nightâ€. Anyway, as we all know, the purpose of mounting this show on Broadway was not to present something wonderful, or to realize an artistic vision, or even to produce something COHERENT. The purpose behind producing a this Broadway show was a hubristic, mortifying and entirely idiotic effort at making money. By doing something that was practically GUARANTEED never to make any. Only one out of every fifty-six Broadway shows breaks EVEN, much less makes a profit. And, THIS “showâ€, with THESE “peopleâ€, conceived, created, curated and bloviated by THIS director, and produced by THESE Seventy-Five financiers who, as mentioned earlier, didn’t possess one soul between them, working at cross purposes, creating conflicting scapegoats, who were involved ONLY because they seen TV commercials, so professional and colorful! Commercials on a TV set like REAL things have! Like cars and vacations and cars and car insurance and cars! And, MOSTLY because of that nonsensical yet haunting: “Oh! Ayindah ay! Bah-Batunda Whoopi-dokala whey!â€.In telling about this particularly egregious version of what happens far too acceptably on Broadway, Mr. Berger has done all of us in the theater a great service. Making tangible something that we all experienced, over and over if we’re lucky, but, my GOD, I hope that few of us thought it was THIS bad!My, I ramble. READ THIS BOOK, even if you're not in the theater. It will be a thrilling look behind the scenes at the particularly appalling, but in no way unique, creation of, not a musical, but a Broadway show!
If you're in this for the schadenfreude satisfaction of watching a huge project by some very notable people fail spectacularly, you pretty much get that. Sure, there's an argument in the end that the musical maybe isn't quite as big of a flop as you've heard. But, at the very least, it hits some really disastrous bumps along the way. There's a reason people are captivated by train-wrecks. It's fun and fascinating to watch something grand and ambitious be built and then torn apart.Unfortunately, this book isn't quite the definitive blow-by-blow account of this mess that I was hoping for. It's more of an insider's view of the failure, told from the very particular perspective of one of the major players involved. His feelings about the show, the people involved, what went wrong, and what went right really drive the narrative. The book is as much about the effect this show had on his own life as it is about the show itself. That's all fine, and certainly what the author intended. But I still hope someday we get to pull back the curtain even further and hear from all of the players involved in this mess. Maybe an HBO documentary or something?In the meantime, this book is about as close as you'll get to knowing what happened.
An honest, readable account from someone who was part of one of the biggest train wrecks in theatrical history. Glen Berger co-wrote the book to "Spider-man: Turn Off the Dark" and he takes his fair share of the blame, but isn't afraid to hold others accountable for their bad decisions, first and foremost which is this: why on earth would anyone want to do a musical about Spider-man in the first place?. For anyone interested in theatre, this book is an excellent peek behind the curtains.
If you've ever had any connection to a musical; directing, acting, producing, designing or simply watching from the house, you need to read this book! It shines the spotlight where we normally don't get to go. Not just behind the scenes, but before the scenes to the very birth of the idea and its stumbling growth through childhood, adolescence, puberty, the awkward teenage years, and finally to its imperfect but fascinating adulthood. You'll never look at a Broadway musical the same way again!
Remember the movie "Julie & Julia?" This book would make a good movie if paired with the book, "Evenings with the Orchestra" by Hector Berlioz. The comparison/ contrast of the present with history would work well, and in Glen Berger's favor too. This book is a "good save" for its author. I would have played up the scene where the guy dies right after signing the contract a little more. The author can bury his lead! - This is a great explanation of how the music industry works.
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