(Michael Feingold’s article appeared in the Village Voice, 4/20.)
Like the madwoman in the 1969 Off-Broadway musical Promenade, who thinks that two escaped convicts are her long-lost babies, I have to live with my own truth, whether you like it or not. And one truth I'm living with these days is that, for me at least, the Broadway musical is over as a phenomenon. The future of the American musical, such as it is, lies Off-Broadway. Experiments tried there may naturally dream of emigrating upward to the magic boulevard of pricey tickets. If they succeed, they'll carry with them the flickering memory of an entertainment genre that had, during seven or eight glittering decades of the 20th century, evolved into its own distinctive art form—inventive, free-spirited, and unlike anything else.
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