Tag Archives: brother michael

Meeting the In-Laws

Celebs and Media, Personal Bits, political

This afternoon I was treated to free theatre by my brother, Michael. Bless his heart, without him the only culture I’d get would be PS3 gaming blogs for cheat codes.

He’s in “Stuff Happens” at the Royal Alexander Theatre, playing George Bush in a play that is…

a dramatic speculation, authenticated from multiple real-life sources, on the behind-closed-door proceedings that have shaped recent world events

When we had dinner earlier in the week we talked about the play and how it was coming along but he failed to mention he was playing GWB. As the play started and we were introduced to the political figures that shaped world politics during 9/11, my brother rose to speak and a ridiculously frank Texan accent came pouring out. Being his brother and have listened to countless jokes and impressions from him all my life, I couldn’t tell if he was pulling it off. However I was very excited. As far back as I can remember, he is cast as the slovenly neurotic schlep that everyone falls for and I think this was his second political figure he’s ever played (he played an advisor in Frost/Nixon), certainly the most colourful/famous. The laughs he garnished certainly was indication the audience was buying it. The woman in front of me turned to her husband and made some remark, her finger stabbing at the stage at my brother. I think he did well.

In fact the entire cast did really well. The play pulls from actual quotes and situations and relives the insanity of a world wanting and resisting going to war after America’s greatest attack on it’s soil. There were curious dramatic tensions (a suggested budding romance between Colin Powell and Condoleezza Rice?) and fly-on-the-wall imaging of back room conversations that were interesting to see but would probably make a Right Winger stand up and yell “THAT NEVER HAPPENED!!”, however they never crossed the line into an overt Liberal love-orgy. I would hope that if it ever plays in the US that many people go see it in  “Those who forget the past are condemned to relive it” kind of way. But I think is pretty doubtful, unless Michael Moore produces it – SharkBoy’s comment after was “I doubt they could stand it”

The kick in the gut line says it all: “After 9/11 America became stupid”

PS: The whole reason I wrote this was to say I met my brother’s fiance. Hello Morwyn!!

A Night of Art-ness Pt 2

General

Last night Sharkboy, Mom and a couple of her friends were treated to A Chorus Line by my brother Michael, who I thank with all my cultured heart.

Mike had “arranged them”. So I had to get them from the press desk at the theatre, which resulted in this conversation with the two most bitterest press desk employees ever:

Me: “I’m here to pick up tickets”
PD1: “Name?”
Me: “They’re under Michael Healey.”
PD1: “You’re not Michael Healey!”
Me: “I’m his brothe–”
PD2: (finding the tickets during all this and thrusting them at me) “CONGRATULATIONS. NEXT!”
Me: “…And his mother is coming too, you really don’t want to cross her.”

Bitter cow. Not even giving me the satisfaction to gloat over my brother’s success.

Every ten minutes after the show, Mom would turn to me and ask who paid for the tickets.

“Mirvishes,” I would say, which wasn’t far from the truth.

At this point, I would like to state that since I got the last two days of theatre tickets for free, my brother and I are now even for all those times I had to get up at 2am to go get his asthma medicine in the 70s. I absolve you of this debt.

Prior to the show, Sharkboy and I split up to try to intercept Mom as she arrived at The Canon Theatre. Who makes two entrances to a popular theatre on two different city blocks? I am sure many of dates are destroyed because the simple statement “I’ll meet you there” turns connecting outside the theatre a mood killing process. Anyway, Sharkboy took the Victoria Street entrance in case her cabbie took her to the “box office” while I stayed on Yonge at the “Main entrance”.

I see my Mom and her friends after a while and we greet each other with hugs. As this is going on, none of us notice the huge black SUV pull up to the curb beside us. I tell Mom to go to her seats while I go collect Sharkboy from the other entrance and we’ll be together soon. I turn to head around the block.

Wham. My nose makes contact with a solid wall of suit covered beef.

I hit a body guard.

One of David Mirvishes‘ body guards.

“Excuse me!” we respond simultaneously, politely.

I’m spinning around to see David Mirvish again but they’re swept into the theatre. I wanted to thank him for the tickets and insist that he continue to commission work from my brother.

By the way, I loved A Chorus Line. It was schmaltzy, self centred, self deprecating, navel gazing musical theatre that had me humming it’s tunes even as I type this.