The Czar, his Царица, the Цесаревич, and the Царевич, as well as the boys’ grandmas, took in the theater this evening. No, he will not name the play in question, but will add that it was an annual school production featuring about 50 eighth graders in various parts, a great deal of music, and his niece had a very nice double role that involved choreography and a fair bit of singing.

Two thoughts.

If you are an eighth grade boy, and you elect to get in front of an audience of about 500 people and sing your heart out, you should know that the Czar has the greatest respect for you. The Czar admits that as an eighth grader, he would have been far too cool to sing in some dumb lame play: which you already know is all code for being a complete coward. It takes real guts—manly guts—to stand up like that and sing your little show tune about following your dreams. No sarcasm there: no matter how much the other guys tease, harass, or question your heterosexuality (they will anyway, that’s what they do), you should know that deep down, those guys (like your Czar) will secretly admit you got a real backbone there, and yeah, we know the girls think that’s pretty hot. You are right, and we are/were wrong. We know, and you know.

Second, to the parents who put on these productions: thank you for your time and patience. We know that a production like this is slightly harder than trying to get the same number of rhesus monkeys to stand in a crisp military formation when all you have for incentive is an airhorn and a teaspoon. But for the love of God, think about what you are doing.

It is noble that you want the kids to do something ambitious. But please do not choose incredibly elaborate musicals, with complex harmonies and jazzy key changes and syncopated parts…you are dealing with 13-year-olds, and no matter how nicely they sing along to a pop song in the back of the car, they are not going to hit an uncued high A-note when the band strikes an Am7-5. Yes, your Czar knows what happened: you saw this musical done by trained singers in a fully professional production over on Clark Street, and in your most nasally voice said to your inebriated husband “Wouldn’t this be perfect for the eighth graders this year? The costumes would be to die for!”

There are plenty of nice scripts out there to do with songs in their actual ranges that do not require three years with a Broadway touring company. Just a helpful suggestion. They can sound great, be in tune, and the audience will love it continuously. Betcha it even garners higher praise, too, than previous efforts.

By the way, a note to the girl who played the bird. The Цесаревич thinks you are very pretty, even if you are seven years older than he is. Although we all enjoyed your solo, you should know he found you particularly delightful.

The Czar of Muscovy

Божію Поспѣшествующею Милостію Мы, Дима Грозный Императоръ и Самодержецъ Всероссiйскiй, цѣсарь Московскiй. The Czar was born in the steppes of Russia in 1267, and was cheated out of total control of all Russia upon the death of Boris Mikhailovich, who replaced Alexander Yaroslav Nevsky in 1263. However, in 1283, our Czar was passed over due to a clerical error and the rule of all Russia went to his second cousin Daniil (Даниил Александрович), whom Czar still resents. As a half-hearted apology, the Czar was awarded control over Muscovy, inconveniently located 5,000 miles away just outside Chicago. He now spends his time seething about this and writing about other stuff that bothers him.