Welp, I’ve been off this platform for some time. If I was coming back, it’d be to promote this notion for sure. Hello, #tanzblr; breadman missed you.
Coming soon to a podcast platform near you, in the vein of Out for Blood’s retrospective coverage of Carrie and after much development (probably closer to next year than this year):
A Good Nightmare Comes So Rarely: The Rise and Fall of Dance of the Vampires.
The pitch:
When most American theater aficionados think of Dance of the Vampires, they don't think of a show that’s run successfully for 9,300+ performances, in 12 languages, in 14 countries, bringing in an audience of over 9.6 million. They think of its brief New York run starring Michael Crawford, which was such a critical and commercial disaster that it totally eclipsed the infamous Carrie in financial loss, set the new bar for legendary flops (at least until Spider-Man: Turn Off the Dark came along), and is still widely cited as proof of the ‘wisdom’ that ‘vampire musicals don’t work on Broadway.’
20 years on, it’s time for a post-mortem. Two obsessive fans dive deep into the story behind its creation, interviewing cast, crew, creators, and detractors and fans alike who watched from the peanut gallery, as they recall all the gory details of the road to Manhattan, from the creation of the original Roman Polanski source film in the mid-Sixties to the present day.
When I say “two obsessive fans”... yeah, I’m co-hosting with ozymegdias. (As she has had significant input on my further development of the fabled ‘new English version more faithful to the European original,’ that may come up as well. We’re debating whether or not it’s necessary; I think it’s a novel hook.)
If you’d like to contribute, we’re looking for “detractors and fans alike”: enthusiasts of Tanz, of DOTV (slim crowd, but they exist), of both (even slimmer crowd, but they, too, exist), and rubber-neckers who watched the proverbial auto accident with interest, the kind of people who can offer color commentary of the “from the sidelines” variety. Get in touch!
Recently, on Reddit, I came across the phrase “Dance of the Vampires is barely even Tanz der Vampire” in a discussion. I debated whether or not to share this opinion in response to that general point (of which I’ve heard many variations over the years), but as somebody who’s been as close to the show as I have, I think I’ve earned the right to do so.
That opinion is: they’re really not super different.
The humor is arguably shittier in DOTV, yes (to the extent one can argue that a phallic sponge is that big a step down from, say, playing “uh-oh, it’s a booby” to discover that it’s not Chagal under the sheet), but take away the most egregious elements, and it’s not nearly as different from Tanz as people have made it out to be.
Which is not to say DOTV isn’t the worse version; it absolutely is. But it’s over-simplifying things to say that one is a brooding, sensual, dark, Gothic opera, the potential result if Anne Rice wrote a vampire musical (that worked), and the other is a campy Mel Brooks-reminiscent romp, especially when...
They stem from the same source material.
They feature largely the same score and many of the same characters and plot points, even if the portrayal of the latter is different.
Both, each in their own way, send up the mega-musical genre / format.
Both can’t really decide whether they’re fish or flesh, comedy or serious drama, and wind up being neither. (Let’s not forget... in both versions, the audience is asked to swallow “Total Eclipse of the Heart” as a serious love duet between a vampire and his potential victim at the top of Act II, sharing space with a song later in the same act where said vampire lectures us on how our greed will be our doom, monologuing about the existential pain of eternal life and of losing everything and everyone he loves. The phrase “one of these things is not like the other...” comes swiftly to mind.)
The real, salient difference is in the basic approach to each. As George Abbott, Broadway’s all-time greatest musical comedy director, once said, “If you play it for comedy, it won’t work; if you play it for real, it will.”
Tanz camouflaged its inconsistency by playing it straight, with focused, detailed direction and a (mostly) dark sense of humor. The acting style seemed to follow a principle aptly described by Keythe Farley (of the Actors’ Gang in Los Angeles) as “the height of expression, the depth of sincerity” -- in other words, an extremely sincere approach, one where the cast takes it so seriously it’s funny, but it also hurts. What comedy existed wasn’t overplayed, so that when one of the handful of emotional moments came along, it was able to hit its target. (I put this in past tense because, in my opinion, Stage Entertainment has been doing it so long that it’s gotten very watered-down; the humor now seems to be overplayed to such an extent that the more emotional moments aren’t landing.)
DOTV, on the other hand, opted for a broad, silly angle that milked every “punchline” it could, as much as possible, and it was about as focused as a nervous driver after twelve rounds of tequila.
One way is just better than another at masking the show’s flaws.
What new ending you talking about for tanz der vampire?
Oh, I forgot some people weren’t aware of that. Have you heard the 2009 revival recording? It can be heard there; it started there, and has since appeared in a few other productions, mainly the ones that use Kentaur’s production designs.
Here’s a thumbnail description that I’ve pieced together from various sources the best that I can, because I am based in America and not exactly made of money, so I haven’t seen it for myself aside from the odd clip here and there (I don’t seek them out, as, like I said, I don’t really like the new ending):
For starters, Abronsius sings the intro to the Act II finale same as always.
At the end of that first verse, the music changes in tone, becoming dark and threatening. (Not exactly “new” music, the whole moment is a restatement of old themes, but you’ve definitely never heard it outside of the revival recording unless you’ve seen subsequent productions.) He turns around and realizes Alfred and Sarah have disappeared, so he goes off looking for them, shouting “He ho he” – it’s sort of like a throwback to the beginning. (He doesn’t actually sing it, which is why I’m kind of hesitant to specifically call it a book-end.) Depending on the actor, it either plays as Abronsius being distressed and worried for the lad’s safety, or annoyed as per his usual nature.
After Abronsius disappears, or perhaps at the same moment, Krolock shows up and takes the stage, apparently once again a surprise entrance from the audience like when he first appeared in Act I.
It then goes one of two ways: either he laughs triumphantly and then follows Abronsius, the implication being the professor’s price for curiosity will be his own end, as it was initially staged, or he just does a big “vampire laugh” and is lowered under the floor, which is the way it was ultimately re-staged and – at least to my knowledge – has remained.
When the “new” music is over, it picks back up with “Finale Part II,” the old transition into Magda and Herbert and the big dance party (which now includes Alfred, Sarah, and Krolock).
As I said, it feels out of place – it is quite literally an interruption to anyone used to the old version – and it doesn’t really add anything.
If, as some have suggested, it was put in to justify Alfred, Sarah, and Krolock appearing in the choreography at the very end, I honestly – if arrogantly so – don’t accept that as an excuse. The implication of the choreography, and the scene preceding it, is that the vampires did survive, and now they’re gonna be able to take over the world. Alfred, Sarah, and Krolock are not ruled out of participating in the “revolution” just because they aren’t physically there, and if one does add them to the dance, they don’t need a whole scene to justify it.
And if, somehow, you’ve only seen the newer production and missed older ones… yeah, this was never there before 2009. It went from the professor straight into the vampires taking over.
Continued discussion of the new(-ish) ending to “Tanz” (4)
ninallthatjazz:
@gdelgiproducer in this bootleg you can see it crumble - it's from the german production in 2011/12 (I think) https://youtu.be/FvA7SeErpGg In the 1997 recording you can't tell what happens unfortunately. But since the german production has bought the rights to the 'old' viennese version, I'm pretty sure it happens there as well.
Well, I checked out this fairly decent quality clip from the original, and it doesn’t look like total destruction there, just a lot of strobes, scattering vampire hordes, and a fairly speedy recovery for Krolock, who seems appropriately embarrassed at being outwitted by rank amateurs, after a moment of immobilization / frustration. (I also find it telling that it seems to be Alfred who grabs the other candelabrum while Abronsius is frozen in fear, another moment contrary to every script I’ve ever read, but I kinda like it; the scared student surpasses the master in the nick of time, sort of like Johanna in Sweeney Todd -- on stage -- shooting the owner of the asylum when Anthony is too flustered to pull the trigger.)
As to which outcome I prefer in the ball scene... I think I understand why they go the “total destruction” route now. Like one person says on that TV Tropes Headscratchers page (hidden by a spoiler tag), a momentary inconvenience doesn’t really help the “twist” ending land like total destruction does (especially the kind Jim describes in early drafts of the American version, with an eruption of fire, walls crumbling, and a river of blood pouring down the middle of the ballroom). If all the vampires are seemingly doomed, then it looks to a first-time viewer like Alfred and Abronsius have, against all odds, actually won the battle, which would make Sarah's surprise snack at the end of the show more shocking.
Having said that, even with the castle’s destruction included, I still don’t feel like the extra moment in the Finale is super necessary. In my (frequently stated) opinion, simply introducing Alfred, Sarah, and Krolock in the choreography neatly ties up those loose ends and secures in the audience’s minds the message that the vampires are in control now and possibly never lost control of the situation, and as for Abronsius... well, clearly he was powerless to stop the outbreak, if he ever noticed it happened to begin with.
Knowing that the film The Fearless Vampire Killers had a mainly British crew who were given to practical jokes on set, and that the person in the graveyard couldn’t possibly be the Count since -- for openers -- they weren’t in the crypt, I frankly never bought into it to begin with, no matter what alternate etymology people turned up in other languages.
(In fact, that’s literally the only thing I’ve ever said every time someone brought it up: the Count reposes in the crypt, not in a simple grave. There would be no marker for him outside, it would make no sense. And, assuming the Hungarian origin for the name is correct, a vampire named Breda... doesn’t that seem like the kind of in-joke only Giovanni would find funny?)
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not knocking the fandom’s efforts, and all the stuff you guys have turned up over the years to justify a shot of a random gravestone in the movie (including that cute bit about “names were often passed down in aristocratic families, so even if it’s not his grave, it could still be his name” -- the lengths people will go to in order to retain cherished headcanon!) is attention to detail that is nothing short of mind-boggling. But the simplest explanation is often best, and to me, given what I’ve noted above, what makes the most sense is that it is simply not his name.
I will also add that in my time working on the show, though admittedly I never went out of my way to ask, no one ever mentioned the Count having a first name, which is something you’d think would come up -- at least in passing -- if there was one. The only production to give him one, to my knowledge, was the American one, and I think we all know better than to count that as canon.
If you wanna believe he’s Breda, go ahead, fine. Headcanon is headcanon. If you wanna believe you yourself are not a human being but in fact a palm tree, go ahead, fine. Headcanon is headcanon. Just know that the preponderance of evidence suggests it is not true in the text (or reality, in the case of the palm tree) itself.
Yes, I get what you mean. I like Kunze's version as much as Steinman's version. He said it so himself: TEOTH is a vampire love song. But I think that, because TEOTH entered the cultural landscape as a bombastic pop love song, it takes an incredible amount of suspension of disbelief for the American audiences to take TEOTH/Totale Finsternis as a serious love song between human and vampire, forever tarnishing the chances of a more faithful Western adaptation of Tanz der Vampire.
While I agree it’s hard for English-speaking audiences (I wouldn’t say just Americans) to swallow for that reason, I don’t think “Total Eclipse…” is the biggest thing “forever tarnishing the chances of a more faithful Western adaptation of Tanz der Vampire” as you put it. There’s a whole hell of a lot more standing in its way.
(For example: people dredging up the DOTV saga as proof that “vampire musicals don’t work” every Halloween or so. Nobody has let the Broadway version’s shitty reputation dissipate long enough to give it another chance. And that’s just one example.)
DOTV AU: An Exercise in Alternate History (Part IV)
Parts I, II, and III offer more detailed context. (To briefly sum up why these posts are happening: alt history -- as in sci fi, not “alternative facts” -- buff, one day got the idea that DOTV could have turned out hella different if Jim Steinman looked for a star lead in other places, decided to reason out how that might work.) This is still getting a good response, so I’m gonna keep the train rolling.
Parts of the AU timeline established so far: instead of stopping at recording two songs from Whistle Down the Wind on a greatest hits compilation, Meat Loaf wound up taking more of an interest in Steinman’s new theater work than he did in our timeline, and through a series of circumstances found himself volunteering to play Krolock in the impending DOTV when Jim poured out his woes to him about needing to find some sort of star to attract investors. At a loss for any better ideas, Jim accepted Meat’s impulsive proposal, but not without resistance from his manager, David Sonenberg, who proposed Michael Crawford as an alternate candidate. Through quick thinking on Meat’s part, and inspiration on Jim’s, Crawford left the room accepting an entirely different role than he walked in hoping to get, leaving Krolock still open for Meat. There’s been a brief speed bump, when Meat dislikes Jim’s English script for the show, but after meeting with the original German author Michael Kunze and convincing Jim to compromise, things are hopefully on the road to being back on track.
Continuing the alternate DOTV timeline:
August 11, 2001: After some discussion with Meat Loaf, and back-and-forth with Michael Kunze over changes from Tanz in the creation of DOTV, Jim Steinman (and co-authors John Caird and David Ives) closes the book on a new draft of the script. It is sent to Meat, co-star Michael Crawford, and members of the creative team for review.
Meat has to admit, he’s pleased with the results. The mix of humor and score is more consistent, and for still veering farther from the German show than Meat’s comfortable with, it’s not altogether terrible like the May draft was. There are still things he would like to see changed in one more re-draft (the “Invitation to the Ball” sequence has grown too lengthy, “Carpe Noctem” now closes Act One in a bizarre hybrid with part of what was once the Act One finale, and Krolock shape-shifts into an alien monster during the ball sequence for no apparent reason; cut the shape-shifting, restore the original “Invitation,” and put “Carpe Noctem” and the Act One finale back the way they belong, and he’ll be a happy camper), but overall, this is much stronger. If he can’t get it closer to the European version, he’ll be pretty happy with this as the final result.
No complaints from Crawford either: Abronsius is a strong character with a comic accent, most of the show’s laughs, some heartwarming moments with Alfred (a slight change from the crabbier professor of the European version that Crawford has zero issue with; every performer wants to be loved because of their character, not in spite of it)... he can hold his own against Meat Loaf’s legendary command of the stage and isn’t stuck playing second banana. He’s ready for rehearsals!
Michael Kunze can’t help agreeing with Meat’s assessment of what needs to be changed, but aside from that, he, too, is surprised at how good the draft is. It addresses many of the problems that even the German show’s fans have acknowledged -- it improves the pacing, increases character development, little to no time is wasted on subplots that go nowhere. It’s still not quite his show anymore; it’s easier on the audience, more comical, but this has working ingredients. It’s new, modern, more like Rocky Horror, aimed at a younger audience, not a show for tourist parties from New Jersey. The critics will have their knives out for it -- they tend to be conservative and prefer classics with straw hats, showboating choreography, and the big-band sound that he loathes -- but that doesn’t matter so much if the audience still buys tickets. The physical production will still more or less resemble Vienna and Stuttgart; this script, combined with the score, special effects, grandiose scenery, and breathtaking choreography, could stand a chance.
Now planning can finally take a more concrete form. The goal is to bring it to Broadway for previews in March 2002, with the official opening in April, followed by runs in Los Angeles and London. Caird and Steinman are still set to co-direct; frequent Julie Taymor collaborator Daniel Ezralow is on tap for choreography. The original German designs will be replicated. Preliminary casting is even beginning for other parts: Steinman is intent on luring Aris Sas to American shores to reprise the role of Alfred, which he had made his own in the original Vienna and Stuttgart productions, having long had designs on turning him into a pop star. Further casting sessions are lined up for September.
August 23, 2001: The announcement is made in Variety, confirming Meat’s and Crawford’s casting, Jim’s co-directing with Caird, and all the relevant details. In a gallant move on Sonenberg and co-producer Andrew Braunsberg’s part, the production is announced to be dedicated to the memory of Steve Barton, Tanz’s original Krolock, who had passed away in mid-July. For his part, representatives from Meat’s management announce that he will be donating a portion of his salary to a trust for Steve’s son, Edward, and his family, which goes down really well with Barton’s fans. Tellingly, however, Allen Kovac himself offers no comment.
September 11, 2001, 8:45 AM E.S.T.: a horrific terrorist attack rocks the city of New York, and the nation of America. This event, impossible to ignore, changes everything. Many musicals getting ready to make the jump to Broadway are suddenly not so sure, but the situation is doubly insecure for DOTV: most of the show’s major creative team (including co-director Caird and Sas, one of the major leads) is based in London and Europe, and with flights being cancelled en masse, it’ll be hard to make head-way and open before the Tony Awards cut-off date as initially planned. For that matter, a musical comedy about dead people where the bad guys win, no matter how funny, suddenly seems in very poor taste.
October 5, 2001: Due to the impracticality of planning successfully after the massacre, realizing there is no way to follow the initial plan, the producers of DOTV announce that its opening is being postponed to October 24, 2002.
With Meat’s schedule suddenly free, an admittedly relieved Kovac is able to tell the organizers of Night of the Proms that he will be able to honor his original commitment to tour with them from the end of October until just before the holidays. Meat, though a little annoyed that Kovac kept the deal going behind his back, welcomes the distraction: Jim needs time to incorporate the rewrites he suggested, and he needs to get out there and entertain people the only way he knows how, the better to raise some spirits. Besides, it’ll only be a matter of time before he is consumed with his character and unable to tour in the manner to which his fans have become accustomed, and he owes it to his band to give them one last paycheck before he commits to an extended period without them. His stint with the Proms is a success, and during its stops in eight German cities, Meat talks about his forthcoming role and, as a special bonus for Tanz fans, premieres his performance of what he calls “Confession of a Vampire,” the English version of “Die unstillbare Gier.” (Tanz fans complain the lyrics are too close in places to Meat Loaf’s original “Objects in the Rear View Mirror...” but many grudgingly acknowledge his performance already has the gravitas appropriate to the role.)
Over till next time. If you like it, keep following!
