Tonight I went to see the musical Carousel at the Cassidy Theater in the southern inner suburb of Parma, as part of a local Republican fundraiser. As far as Rogers & Hammerstein go, it's alright; I prefer Oklahoma! and won't even try to diminish the almighty the Sound of Music with a comparison. The players at the Cassidy were a community troupe and for non-professionals the performance was excellent; I didn't care much for the story, jagged and unbalanced with little character development.
As much as I may enjoy them, I admit to mentally checking off numbers from the program — to better gauge the drama, see? Tonight, however, the best was saved for second-last: when character Billy Bigelow watched his daughter from afar, the actress danced ballet, joined by a male partner. Both were adept and remarkably expressive as actors. Now, as an American male I can attest to being introduced to ballet through cartoons and comic displays; never having seen a live, serious performance, further pushed by that famous sequence in Top Secret!, my appreciation for the delicate dance art is somewhat stunted. Tonight was quite a revelation.