Search

SAN DIEGO -- The mushrooming of reality television and its lunatic subgenres might seem an unpromising subject for satire. How can you spoof a phenomenon that has metastasized so quickly that late-night comics have mostly left it behind as barren turf? ''Nobody Loves You,'' a delightful chamber musical having its premiere here at the Old Globe Theater, confounds expectations with its verve and ingenuity in poking silly fun at the absurdities of the crass, malice-riddled and embarrassingly addictive shows in which common folk are given a chance to grab the fleeting celebrity spotlight and win love, money or, best of all, a spinoff. To survive and thrive they must outdo the competition in parading their bleeding hearts and histories of dysfunction before a disgusted but obsessed audience. (You know who you are -- er, I mean, we know who we are.) [ABSTRACT FROM AUTHOR]

LOS ANGELES -- The jubilant young dancers in the new musical ''Bring It On,'' at the Ahmanson Theater here, should probably be racking up frequent-flier miles, so often are they airborne in this featherweight show about competing high school cheerleading squads. The director and choreographer, Andy Blankenbuehler, has clearly schooled himself in the elaborate acrobatics that have become the standard for teams competing in the national finals, an event that has long been televised on ESPN. The primary delights in ''Bring It On'' are the breathtaking displays of human fireworks that send the show's well-drilled dancers flying skyward, forming towering human pyramids, or tumbling across the stage backward, like electric-powered Slinkys. [ABSTRACT FROM PUBLISHER]

Global warming is seriously bad news for polar bears and other arctic critters, but it's been hell on some unendangered species too, like snow-loving New Yorkers. Having grown up in a sunny California suburb, in a family that regarded skiing as a deplorably extravagant way to acquire a broken leg, I became snow-crazed as soon as I started visiting New York in the chillier months. The last few winters have been sadly flake-deficient, and I have sorely felt the loss. Frequent reminders that city snow quickly turns to ashen, slippery slush fall on deaf ears. The snow-mad want snow and consider a closet full of salt-corroded shoes a small price to pay. [ABSTRACT FROM PUBLISHER]

HOLLYWOOD has a long history of bungling the movie versions of hit Broadway musicals, but believe it or not I held out hope for ''Mamma Mia!'' In retrospect this seems a little deranged, but let me explain. The story of my responses to the Abba musical onstage is a strange one, moving through several phases, sort of like those stages of grief famously diagnosed by Elisabeth Kubler-Ross. I first saw the show shortly after it opened in London in 1999 to giddy reviews from the local critics. My reaction was a mixture of bafflement and dismay as I watched rows and rows of middle-aged Englishwomen -- and quite a few mildly embarrassed-looking Englishmen -- bouncing to their feet with glee to join in the megamix finale. There was sorrow too at what I immediately perceived as a dubious but obviously popular new genre of musical theater. [ABSTRACT FROM PUBLISHER]

Victoria Clark as an 11-year-old? Victoria Clark, the gifted singing actress who won a Tony as a demure middle-aged mother in ''The Light in the Piazza''? Who was so heartbreaking as a life-roughened Irish matron in the recent concert version of ''Juno'' at City Center Encores? The idea sounds gimmicky, even perverse. But in ''Tres Ninas,'' the first and finest of three solo musicals presented under the title ''Inner Voices'' at the Zipper Factory, Ms. Clark is utterly convincing as that youngster growing up poor in Southern California in 1952. She may be sitting on a worn couch wearing a very grown-up slip, looking every bit her age, but the mischievous drawl and the eager, confiding eyes make it clear that her song comes straight from the tender, inquisitive heart of a young girl. [ABSTRACT FROM PUBLISHER]