You can take it from these longtime observers of the Providence Newspaper Guild’s annual Follies: Scott MacKay’s performance as co-emcee stole the show this year. MacKay literally got off on the wrong foot when, in one of the first numbers, a paean to the State House comatta scene, the courageous reporter was required to do a bit of dancing. Gregory Hines need not worry.
But it was MacKay’s stream of spot-on comedic material that made the event, held last Friday at the Venus de Milo in Swansea, Massachusetts. At one point, Scott noted that the concerns about childhood obesity are real indeed: “The little boys are too fat to run away from the priests.” He mentioned a new political action committee, “Comattas for Carcieri . . . only thing is we can’t figure out if it’s soft money or hard money.” Scott noted that one of the reasons why he loves to see Governor Carcieri is that he’s “always accompanied by husband Don,” and that it was a little hard to take sides in the mini-feud that once broke between talk show hosts John DePetro and Dan Yorke. He compared it to “the Iran-Iraq war.”
Past midway in the show, Jorge bumped into Vo Dilun’s comedy major-domo, Charlie Hall, who said he was there to see if he could steal some material for his popular Ocean State Follies. I mentioned how Scott was very funny, and Charlie said, “Listen, every line was a gem tonight . . . and you can quote me on that.” A few days later, Scott told Jorge how the late, legendary Journal reporter John Kiffney had always cited “knowing the crowd” as the key to crafting successful fodder for the Follies.
The audience consists in large part of swells from the Biggest Little. You’ll see the television anchors and reporters, a large smattering of politicos, media personalities, lawyers, and assorted CEOs. In short, the Follies is the highest-profile insider cocktail party of the year.
One musical number that really stood out this year, “SOS,” was a song about the controversy over unionizing child-care workers in the state. It was done to the tune of the old ’60s soul classic, Fontella Bass’s “Rescue Me,” and sung magnificently by a Follies’ newcomer, reporter Talia Buford, who covers the Blackstone Valley. We definitely look forward to hearing from Ms. Buford in the future.
The song’s sentiment, however, was questioned by a number of listeners. Here’s a bit of the lyrics: “Rescue me, the one who baby sits/Rescue me, I want those benefits/’Cause I need you, ’cause I want you/Can’t you see that I’m lonely/Rescue me.” The spouse of a well-known Journal writer was a bit miffed that a song spoofing a union-organizing effort would be performed at a union event.
A song sung by Andy Smith (impersonating Donald Trump), to the tune of the theme from The Beverly Hillbillies, was, as one would imagine, a surrealistic highlight of the evening. As always, there were very funny lines in the song parodies. Particularly amusing was changing the lyrics to the Gershwin tune, “Let’s Call The Whole Thing Off” to “Let’s call up Guy Dufault.” Naturally, Dufault took it on the chin, big-time. Besides frequent mentions in song and patter, Guy was caricatured on the cover of the Follies program.
Entertaining and well-produced (the sound system was upgraded from last year’s show and the change was telling, particularly in the back of the room), the Follies were judged “excellent” by the cognoscenti at the Providence Phoenix table. Could there be any higher praise?
Meanwhile, there was much comment about how the governor was not in attendance. For details, see the story in This just in.
Zulus on parade
P&J were delighted to celebrate the N’Awlins Mardi Gras this year, with all the “krewes” out in force. It put a bit of Cissy Strut (thank you, the Meters) back in everyone’s stride in the Big Easy as we marched through the day on Fat Tuesday here in the Biggest Little with our gold, purple and green beads on display.
We are elated to report that our friends in N.O., the Zekes, managed to make it on to the float of the legendary Zulu Social Aid and Pleasure Club. To refute Groucho Marx, this is a club to which we would love to belong, but for which we would have to become honorary persons of color. (Well, we do have rhythm.)
Sadly, this reveals the lasting devastation from Hurricane Katrina. The Zekes were able to ride on the traditionally all-black Zulus’ float only because so many African-American New Orleans residents remain displaced. Even more ethereal was how the Zekes, a good Jewish boy from Brooklyn, and his wife, a blonde, alabaster-skinned New Orleans’ native, had to get tricked out in blackface for the parade. While less than politically correct, this showed the tremendous — dare we say it? — “black” humor that was a feature of this year’s celebrations, including enormous faux refrigerators (landmarks of the post-Katrina wreckage) and countless well-directed cheap shots at the inept officials who turned a disaster into a horror show beyond belief. You’re doing a hell of a job, Brownie.
