The Last Night of Summer

Usually, the official conclusion of the summer season is my last visit of the year to the Hollywood Bowl.  Indeed, the evenings I spent there this summer were largely successful...from the always wonderful stylings of Kristen Chenoweth to the boisterous showmanship of Hugh Jackman.

And it ended all with pure kitsch as, one more time, I saw Barry Manilow in person.   While I'm no Fanilow, you can't help but enjoy the time capsule back to the 70s and 80s.   And, Barry himself has tried to transport himself back there with a few totally misguided face lifts.  Trust me, when he was singing the famed "Can't Smile," I really think he meant the words.

This Saturday evening could have been called "Assisted Living Night."  The number of buses pulling up and depositing walker upon walker was mesmerizing.   But they were there because they wanted to hear "Copacabana" or "Mandy" or "I Write The Songs."  To many, Barry is their trusted brother, nephew, and grandson.  Kvelling with pride for their boy from Brooklyn.   All 76 years of him.  

Now I sought out a little back story and, allegedly, Barry doesn't want to do as many concerts as he does.  But the bookings are coming from his manager who just happens to be his husband.   Well, let them fight it out in the comforts of their boudoir.  

If Barry is not keen on performing much, you couldn't tell from the energy on stage.  He clearly looked like he would rather be there at the Bowl than any place on earth.  He was sweating like a bandit.   His dentures prevented him from hitting a few notes.   And then, of course, the trampoline skin stopped him from really opening his mouth too wide.

Nobody cared.   People waved their free green strobe lights like it was 1978. This was comfort food of the ears.   The guy behind me, decked out in sequins, kept yelling his name over and over and over.

"Barry.  Barry!!!  BARRY!!!"

Yep, besides nursing homes, it was also a good evening to burglarize West Hollywood.  

For most in the audience, mission was accomplished.

Oddly, as the photo at top displays, Manilow's opening act was Judy's daughter, Lorna Luft.  They are supposedly best friends and I guess Barry is being a mensch by giving her the gig.   Now I'm a Garland fan and I certainly have no qualms with Lorna.   She certainly has had the recent health issues ranging from breast cancer to a brain tumor.   But she trooped on stage and I was ready to receive with open arms.

Until...

She used her time to sing her mother's songbook.  Ouch.   Okay, admittedly, some of the tunes like "The Man That Got Away" are foolproof.  But Lorna tried to channel Mom's nuances and it didn't work for a moment.   I politely applauded and cringed at the same time.   Why, oh, why, Lorna??

But that was really the only yellow flag in an evening where we were all speeding ahead.    Indeed, you don't know whether the last time you see Barry Manilow in person will be the finale for all time.   But, he still displays the kind of talent and expertise you don't get any more.   

Yep, summer has ended.   And it was a good one.

Dinner last night:  Roasted garlic salad.