One of those folks who wishes to remain unnamed asks…

You live and work in Hollywood. For those of us who don't, can you give us an explanation of why so many people knew about Harvey Weinstein's disgraceful acts and no one did anything about them? And how common do you think the Harvey Weinsteins are in show business?

Well, first of all, I live and work in Hollywood but I don't exactly travel in the same circles as Harvey Weinstein. I've barely traveled in the circles of Harvey Korman.

Secondly, when folks say they heard about Weinstein's misdeeds, they sometimes mean (a) they heard directly from someone who was victimized by him. And they sometimes mean (b) they heard from someone who heard from someone who heard from someone who heard from someone who heard from someone about an unnamed actress who was groped in an unspecified locale at an unknown time. When it's said that "everyone knew," some of those everyones were in category (b) and they don't act, in part because so many of those rumors turn out to be bogus and in part because the law can't do anything without proper names and some specifics.

So why didn't those in category (a) do something? I don't think a lot of them knew what to do, especially if/when the victims prefer to just forget the whole thing and not open themselves up to the public spotlight, attacks from the perpetrator's lawyer and sometime from the police, the number of hours it would consume to testify against their assailants, etc.

This is key to understanding the problem here. The biggest reason slimeballs with power get away with grabbing, pressuring and raping is that many of their victims are terrified of reporting or corroborating what's been done to them…and there's not a lot that can be done to their assailants if the victims decide they're better off that way. I've known a lot of actresses who were mistreated but came to that decision.

One in particular would tell me horrible — and I'm sure, true — stories about what some very powerful men tried to do to her. At least two of the assailants were Big Stars with Big Lawyers — and reputations as decent family men with wholesome images. My friend did not think she could win a She Said/He Said argument with them and their $700-an-hour attorneys; that she'd be smeared as a slut and a lying opportunist and even if she did get some sort of justice, it would consume her life for months if not years and destroy her career.

A large part of the reason Weinstein finally got exposed was that certain of the women he mistreated were or have become Angelina Jolie, Ashley Judd and Mira Sorvino — ladies who have become successful enough that they're not afraid they'll lose everything if they go on the record. Unknowns could and would be accused of lying to get attention and/or money. Gwyneth Paltrow doesn't need either. If he was only abusing unknowns, I bet he'd get away with it forever. I am reminded of how there were a lot of stories around about cartoonist Al Capp exposing himself to women and trying to blackmail them into sex. Many dismissed those accounts as lies until Goldie Hawn went public with the story of her unsavory encounter with Mr. Capp.

The Harvey Weinstein situation is not a problem unique to Show Biz. Most rapes in this country go unreported. Some estimates place that number as high as 80%.

Somewhere in the insurance business, there are guys who have Weinstein-sized money and similar appetites and they get away with such assaults. Every time one does, he feels more invulnerable and goes farther with the next lady who looks to them like easy, attractive prey. And time and again, their victims think, "If I report this, I'll be ruthlessly interrogated, my motives will be questioned, my life — and maybe even the lives of my friends and family will be invaded." It is also, to some, just plain humiliating to be looked upon as a victim. We need to change that.

There are other Harvey Weinsteins in Hollywood — men who do that kind of thing because they're pretty certain they'll never be caught, never be punished. It would be nice to think that the exposure of Mr. Weinstein's abominable behavior will cause many of them to think, "Gee, maybe I'd better stop doing that kind of thing."

A cat carrying toilet paper upstairs…

Fred Kaplan on why Trump's Iran speech was full of lies and fraught with danger. I have yet to see anyone, even the loyalest Trump defender, explain in any real detail why his position is wise. Those who try at all — and most don't — say things like it's bold or decisive. But bold and decisive are not always right. I could make boneheaded decisions in bold and decisive ways.

As Jonathan Chait notes, Trump's newest Obamacare move is pure sabotage. But as Jeremy Stahl reports, polls indicate that voters are hip to this strategy and will hold Trump — not the institution of Obamacare and not the Democrats who gave it to us — responsible.

Sarah Kliff goes into greater detail as to why Trump's actions will make health care worse and more expensive in this country. You get the feeling this kind of mad-man destruction worked to Trump's advantage once in a real estate deal and he's sure it will work in this situation?

Andrew Sullivan makes a key point; that Trump is not trying to enact policies that realistic conservative leaders would ever offer. Here's one paragraph…

These are not conservative reforms, thought-through, possible to implement, strategically planned. They are the unhinged fantasies of a 71-year-old Fox News viewer imagining he can reconstruct the late 1950s. They cannot actually be implemented, without huge damage. And so he resorts to executive sabotage — creating loopholes in the enforcement of Obamacare to undermine the entire system. Or he throws a temper tantrum because Obama's Iran Deal is actually working as promised, and attempting to undermine that as well. At this point, the agenda is so deranged and destructive almost every sane senior member of his cabinet is trying to rein it in.

Susan B. Glasser notes that Bob Corker isn't the only Republican who has problems with Donald Trump. The list is growing.

And as Paul Krugman notes, Puerto Rico doesn't have the only Americans who are suffering these days.

Our sympathies to Jean Schulz, widow of Charles Schulz, and her family over the news that the home where she and "Sparky" lived in Santa Rosa was destroyed in the California wildfires. Fortunately, most of his artwork and memorabilia are safely housed in the the nearby Charles M. Schulz Museum and Research Center. The museum was unharmed, although it's closed for a while due to a lack of electricity and other necessities in the area.

Back here, I raved about a new documentary on the longest-working person in show business, Rose Marie. That documentary is about to get a national release — in New York City on Nov. 3, in San Francisco on Nov. 10 and in Los Angeles on Nov. 17.

I am delighted to see that my friend Laraine Newman is being inducted, along with other cast members of the original Saturday Night Live, into the Television Hall of Fame.

I have raved here about the production of Sweeney Todd that we saw in New York.  It began life, as so much that's innovative in New York Theater often does, in Great Britain.  Here's a video about that production and its transfer to the U.S.  We saw a different but still superb company of players…

Monday morning, Amber and I roamed about a rainy New York City, visiting a few places and folks for whom I've occasionally worked. The only one that might interest you was the offices of MAD Magazine, where I talked with its outgoing editor, John Ficarra. He and his most capable staff (i.e., "Gang of Idiots") have only a few more issues to get off to press before that office closes. Then, control of America's greatest humor publication shifts to offices in Burbank where a mostly-new team is already staffing-up. Before that day arrives, I will write a long post here about what it all may mean.

I will also remind you that MAD may have no greater fan than me and that I think the issues edited by John and his staff (including Charlie Kadua, Joe Raiola, Dave Croatto, Jacob Lambert, Sam Viviano, Ryan Flanders and Patricia Dwyer) have done the publication proud. If you haven't been reading it, lo this last decade or two, you've missed some really sharp satire.

We made it over to a party at the home of my friends Jim Brochu and and Steve Schalchlin. Jim is an actor-author-director-whatever I've known for a long time…an amazing guy who knows everyone in the theatrical community. We could only stay so long at their bash but in the time we were there, I got to talk to Anita Gillette, Charlotte Rae, Joyce Van Patten and Jerry Stiller. Talked about What's My Line? (and seeing her on Broadway) with Anita. Talked about the Li'l Abner Broadway show (she was the first Mammy Yokum) with Charlotte. Talked about The Good Guys (a favored 1968 sitcom she was in) with Joyce. And just talked with Jerry about him being a magnificent comic actor — a fact he denied but he was wrong and I was right.

Other folks of that theatrical caliber were drifting in as we had to head out. Amber's way younger than I am so she didn't know who a lot of those people were but she found them all fascinating and somewhat regretted, as I did, that we had theater tickets for that evening and had to go. What we had to go to was…

I'm not a huge fan of the Roald Dahl's book Charlie and the Chocolate Factory or the film version with Gene Wilder (didn't see the other one) but Amber is so I got tickets to the new musical version. I was hopeful because so many folks said Christian Borle was superb in the role of Willy Wonka…and they were right. He is. I also am a huge fan of Marc Shaiman's music, though I think I like everything else I've heard by him more than I like the new songs in this version.

Along with Mr. Borle's performance, I liked the sets and the art direction and the special effects and John Rubinstein as Grandpa Joe. One of my favorite comic actresses, Jackie Hoffman, was delightfully sour as Mrs. Teavee and the whole cast was genuinely energetic and fine. But it's still a story that doesn't have a whole lot of resonance or internal logic to me. In no version I've read or seen do I get why the cryptic Mr. Wonka acts as he does or why anyone seems only moderately annoyed when children are maimed or killed. But then even back when I ate candy, I didn't orgasm over the whole idea of it so maybe this is just not the story for me.

I will say this for the show: Most of the audience loved it. The overwhelming majority of those in the Lunt-Fontanne Theater were kids or had brought one or more kids and it's probably the perfect show via which to introduce a lad or lass to musical theater. But it just didn't come together for me and Amber was also somewhat disappointed in this, the last show we caught in New York. We both thought Sweeney Todd was by far the theatrical high-point of our theatergoing.

Which brings us to Tuesday. Not much to report about Tuesday. We checked out of our hotel, checked our bags, roamed New York, ate lunch, went back to the hotel, got our bags, took a limo to the airport and flew home. Did I mention how much I love JetBlue? Yeah, I guess I did. Some Notes To Self for this trip…

Staying in a hotel in the heart of Times Square these days means wading through swarms of touristy-type enterprises. We couldn't get from our room to anywhere without a dozen people thrusting offers at us.

Then again, I'd forgotten one advantage of that location: You can get darn near anywhere from Times Square if you know the subway system since so many trains converge on Times Square.

Then again, I have to remember to brush up on the subway system before the next time I go. It had been nine years since I'd been in New York and I don't think I went on the subway the last few visits before that gap. I did discover though that the Yelp! app on my iPhone was real handy for telling me which train to take and when to hop off.

New York drinking water isn't as tasty as I recalled and I switched over to the bottled stuff.

And I'd forgotten how it's impossible to go anywhere without going up and down stairs — an issue of some consequence since my knee replacement.

And why is it that every single corner has a Walgreens Drug Store or a Duane Reade and it's three stories and what I need is on the third floor and both the escalators and elevators are out of order?

And lastly: For the first time in New York since I was a tot, I got in and out without setting foot in a delicatessen. The Carnegie is an empty storefront. The Stage is now another, non-deli restaurant with "Stage" in its name. I didn't get to my favorite restaurant (Peter Luger's out in Brooklyn) and I didn't get to my favorite restaurant in the Seafood division (The Oyster Bar in Grand Central Station)…and I can live with those omissions. But minus the Stage or the Carnegie, it almost doesn't feel like we went to New York. I should've found a way to get us to Katz's. Next time for sure.

Seth Meyers nails the Harvey Weinstein issue…

This article notes that Jimmy Fallon's ratings, which once had him firmly in First Place in Late Night have dropped and he's darn close to coming in third.  Popular wisdom would have it that it's because the other guys slam Trump almost on a nightly basis and Fallon doesn't, at least not with the fervor and sharpness of the others.

Obviously, I am all in favor of ridiculing the guy in the White House and can't see how anyone who writes comedy could resist all the opportunities he provides.  Back when NBC was airing those Dean Martin roasts, I contributed some gags and talked a bit with Harry Crane, who was the Head Writer, and a guy who probably wrote as many jokes as any man who has ever lived.  Harry would talk about "hooks," a hook being an aspect of someone about which you could write a joke.  If they were doing a roast of (let's say) Jackie Gleason, you could do jokes about him being fat, jokes about him drinking to excess, jokes about him chasing the dancers on his show, jokes about him having servants waiting on him night and day, etc.

Each of those was a hook.  Harry was complaining that the network kept asking that the roasts be about certain Big Stars who did not come with a lot of hooks.  How do you write an hour of insults about Gregory Peck?

We can all argue about how Donald Trump will be viewed by history…and of course, a lot of that will have to do with what he does or doesn't do in the next few years.  But I think he may already have clinched the mantle among comedy writers as the public figure with the most hooks…of all time.

I would like to suggest though that the decline of Fallon's ratings might not be exactly because he doesn't insult Trump enough.  It's close but I think the problem is that his show isn't topical enough.  Regardless of our political persuasions, we are all paying so much attention to the news these days that he seems disengaged.  You know that Colbert, Kimmel, Meyers, Trevor Noah and other guys on at those hours are living in the same country at the same time as you do.  When Fallon does mention what's in the news, it seems perfunctory and like someone told him he had to mention it.

This is in accord with a trend that's been evident for some time in late night: Viewers won't watch old shows.  Once upon a time, Mr. Carson could air year-old reruns and get a decent audience.  Today's late night shows don't dare go back that far.  The minute a reference "dates" the show, a lot of viewers change channels.  They've come to expect that a program like The Tonight Show will be about tonight, and when something in the news grabs their attention — and lately, there's always something — they expect the late night shows to say something of substance about it. Fallon's a nice enough guy but he doesn't seem as interested in what's happening right now as the other fellows.

I am back on the left coast in my old, familiar computer chair. There is much catching-up to do including the last few days of my New York diary. I will get caught-up on my catching-up as soon as I can. For now, I just want to say…

• This trip was the first time I've flown on JetBlue. It is not the last time I will fly on JetBlue. I am considering never flying to any city in the future if I cannot fly there on JetBlue.
• There is something enormously pleasant about being so busy that you can't pay too much attention to the news.
• People keep asking me what I think about the Harvey Weinstein matter. I've been trying to think of someone in show business about whom these revelations would be less surprising and I can't. There are plenty of others who do this kind of thing but no one more obvious than Weinstein. Some of them probably thought, "Well, if Harvey can get away with this shit, so can I." Hopefully, they're now rethinking that assumption.

More new content here later.

Here at this blog, we're big fans of Jim Jefferies' stand-up act and, increasingly, of his Daily Show-like program on Comedy Central. Here's a recent segment. I should probably flag it as "Not Safe For Workplace." Hell, we should probably just flag everything Jim Jefferies does as "Not Safe for Workplace"…

Kevin Drum notes that Republican Senator Bob Corker says Donald Trump is a liar and an out-of-control child. Corker further suggests all of his colleagues in the Senate know this even if some of them are afraid to say it out loud.

As I understand it, Trump's response to this is that "the failing New York Times" (which is, of course, doing quite well) tricked Corker into saying that and by the way, Corker is not tall enough. Which is just what a lying, out-of-control child would say.

Amber wasn't feeling up to it so I went stag to the final day of the New York Comic-Con. It was rough getting there from Times Square on Thursday and Friday when it wasn't raining and near-impossible on Sunday when it was. Cabs zoomed past me, snickering because they were already full of fares. One cabbie I did flag down said no, he wouldn't drive me there. He wanted a longer, more lucrative task.

I tried two ride services — Lyft and Via — but Lyft had some sort of super-surge on and wanted $80 for what is usually a $10 ride, and Via said they sent someone but he couldn't find me…and I think that was a lie. I suspect that driver found a more lucrative task.

So I took the subway there and between the standing and walking and burrowing through crowds, I started to feel Amber had the right idea.

I feel like writing about something that applies to perhaps 5% of cosplayers. 95% of 'em are great and I often marvel at the ingenuity, effort and even beauty of so much of what they fashion and don. But the Five seem to approach the game as "What can I wear that's big and clunky that will inconvenience and perhaps even injure those around me?" The con gave it a good try. They posted signs all over that said that cosplay posing was not to be done in aisles where people were trying to walk but those in the 5% look at such a thing and think, "Well, that can't possibly apply to me."

I got hit twice by prop swords wielded by folks playing barbarians. Neither hurt but they could have poked my eyes or knocked me off-balance. Both cosplayers felt a quickly-muttered "Sorry!" made it all right. Both, it seemed to me, struck their poses with zero consideration that others were around…and I really don't see how in that room, with shoulder-to-shoulder humanity, you could be so clueless as to not be aware that you did not have unlimited free space around you. But someone had a camera and all that mattered was posing for it, then and there in the most dramatic fashion.

Conventions all boast that they have a zero tolerance policy for what they call Sexual Harassment and what I think should sometimes be called Sexual Assault…and well they should. How about a zero tolerance policy for people who thoughtlessly hit bystanders with props? We need that until this problem solves itself, which I suspect it will. One of these days at some con, there's going to be a serious injury and/or some ugly confusion between faux weapons and real ones such that cons everywhere will have no choice but to bar wanna-be Conans (or even Groos) from shlepping their swords or gun-toting gunmen from toting the guns they tote. (Yes, this country will outlaw toy assault weapons before they banish anything Stephen Paddock had in his hotel room.)

End of that complaint. My others, not unrelated, are all about how crowded the convention was. I am not in a hurry to return to this one.

I spent the day signing books and I did one panel with Rand Hoppe and Tom Kraft, who run the online (for now) Jack Kirby Museum. The panel was, of course, about Jack and we had a pretty full room of people who wanted to hear all about him and ask questions. It's been 23 years, 8 months and 4 days since Jack died but his influence is so current and all-pervasive that it feels like he's still with us. And more than ever, people want to know about him.

By the time I got back to the hotel, I was exhausted and Amber was still not feeling great, plus it was raining and to venture out in Times Square just then was to encounter the same things I didn't like about the convention…including the people in costumes brandishing swords. So we stayed in.

But around 11:30 PM, I ventured out to get us some food and it was a lovely mission. The rain had stopped and the air was clean. Times Square was not empty but it was free of massive crowds and people in costume who want to pose with you for money and other people who want to hand you brochures for bus tours, comedy clubs and strip joints. There was just the right number of humans around to make the area feel alive and they all seemed to be couples happy about whatever they'd just done or were about to do.

I just stood there for a while, looking at the people and at all the lights, then I texted Amber and wrote, "It's beautiful out here. What do you want on your burger?" I'm so glad I went out for chow then because it was a real, comforting reminder of what a wonderful city New York is. You don't always see it but when you do, it's one of the greatest places on this planet.

Click here to jump to the last day of our trip

I was scheduled for 0 panels and 0 signings at the New York Comic-Con on Saturday. Recalling the hassles of the previous two days — getting to the convention, getting around the convention, getting something to eat at the convention, getting away from the convention — I decided to make 0 appearances there that day.

Instead, Amber and I saw sights, did some shopping and dined with my cousin David (author of this book and others worthy of your attention) and his lovely wife Dini. Then it was on to our show for Saturday night…

I adapted the following from something I found online…

Harold Prince directed the original productions of — among other shows — She Loves Me, It's a Bird…Superman, Cabaret, Zorba, Company, Follies, A Little Night Music, Pacific Overtures, On the Twentieth Century, Sweeney Todd, Evita, Merrily We Roll Along, The Phantom of the Opera, Kiss of the Spider Woman, Parade and LoveMusik. He directed acclaimed revivals of Candide and Show Boat and also produced the original productions of The Pajama Game, Damn Yankees, New Girl in Town, West Side Story, Fiorello!, Tenderloin, Flora the Red Menace, A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum and Fiddler on the Roof. He is the recipient of 21 Tony Awards, a Kennedy Center Honor and a National Medal of the Arts from President Clinton.

Prince of Broadway, which is playing for not that many more weeks at the Samuel J. Friedman Theater, is a "greatest hits" musical using showstopper numbers from sixteen or so of the above musicals, interspersed with quotes from Prince about his career. What's good about it is that if you flip through the rundowns of those shows, it's pretty easy to pick sixteen great numbers, though it might be easier to pick sixty.

Also what's good about it is that those numbers are performed by nine wonderfully-gifted musical comedy performers and each of them has a number or two to hit it out of the park. Everyone was good but my two standouts were Bryonha Marie Parham belting the title song from Cabaret about as well as it could possibly be belted, and Karen Ziemba (always a favorite) playing Mrs. Lovett in the Sweeney Todd excerpt and making one wish she'd play it for an entire production.

And of note: We have reached the stage in color-blind casting where a black guy can play Tevye and you don't hear one eyebrow being raised. I'm fine with that. If there was any problem with "If I Were a Rich Man," it wasn't that the actor was black but that he wasn't Zero Mostel.

Which brings us to the first of a couple of problems with a show like this. Nine people do the work of a few dozen great performers and while they're all good, you can only stretch a cast of nine so far. Also, these were great numbers in the context of their shows. Some of them lose something as stand-alones. And there isn't much insight into Mr. Prince, his modus operandi, his place in theatrical history and so on. It's just a lot of great numbers, sparsely annotated.

The show closes with the best moments from Phantom of the Opera, saving us the chore of walking the three blocks to see the whole show, which is still running and probably always will be. Then there's a new number for the finale called "Do the Work," which is supposed to sum up Prince's philosophy. It's a nice philosophy but we kinda know he wouldn't be the most successful director ever — and deserving of a show like this — if he hadn't done the work.

It all made for a nice-enough evening and I'm sorry to see that there doesn't seem to be a cast album because I'd sure like to hear a few of those numbers again. Guess I'll have to make do with the original hits.

Click here to jump to the next day of our trip

First, I have one more Thursday event to report on. After that comedy I didn't laugh at, Amber and I went to meet my longtime friend Christine Pedi for a late meal. Some of you may know Christine as a host of the Broadway channel on Sirius XM Radio. Some of you may know her as a frequent performer in Broadway shows, Broadway-style shows and her wonderful cabaret act. I have featured videos of her performing before here like her superb impression of Liza Minnelli…

And she does countless other things to warrant my admiration, including her uncanny mimicry. If she ever took up Groucho, she'd put Frank Ferrante out of business.

So that's Thursday. Friday morn, Amber and I got to the Comic-Con in time to catch the panel for MAD Magazine hosted by its soon-to-retire editor John Ficcara. Also on the dais and in the audience were many MAD contributors, past and present, including also-soon-to-retire art director Sam Viviano, former editor Nick Meglin, MAD's maddest writer Dick DeBartolo and the Energizer Bunny of Cartooning, Al Jaffee. Later, I had a very nice conversation with Meglin and with longtime MAD artist Angelo Torres.

It was a very funny panel, though I would imagine you might not feel that way if you felt the current President of the United States deserved even a smidgen of respect. I will write a long post shortly about the Changing of the Guard at MAD and the many eras that are ending.

Signed books. Talked with people. Had a helluva time finding a cab when we left. But Amber and I eventually made it over to Greenwich Village to meet up with Paul Levitz for an important ritual. Amber, you see, has never been to New York before so we had to introduce her to New York Pizza.

As I'm sure I've written here, I think New York Pizza is waaay overrated. There are some wonderful pizzerias in that city. There would have to be, given how many pizzerias there are. Even if only 2% of New York pizzerias made great pies, that would still be something like thirty great pizzerias — admittedly, more than you'll find in any other city.

But New Yorkers talk about their pizza like every last one made in the 212 area code is the work of angels and it ain't. The average New York Pizza is not John's or Joe's or Grimaldi's or Lombardi's or Totonno's or Paulie Gee's. The average New York Pizza is Sbarro's or Pizza Hut or Villa or Ray's. When someone from this town brags about the pizza here, they don't have Ray's in mind. Their claim of vast New York superiority is based on comparing the best anywhere in New York to the average somewhere else.

I hesitate to tell you where we took her in New York because it's impossible in this world to say any place has good pizza without someone else telling you, "Their pizza is crap! I'll tell you where to get real good pizza!" And then they name some place — usually geographically difficult to get to and not worth the effort — that they swear has the best pizza in the galaxy and you're a boob to deny it.

I don't want all that mail so I'll reveal our dining place in a link but first, you have to promise not to tell me — in person, on the phone, by e-mail or via any other form of communication — of the place you know that's so much friggin' better. By clicking on the following link, you agree you have so promised. Is it a deal? Fine. Here's the link. The pizza there was quite wonderful.

And so was the play Amber and I attended afterwards. Insert graphic here, Mark…

Sweeney Todd, which I've seen several times including once with Angela Lansbury and George Hearn, is usually performed on a big stage with a big cast and big sets. This new production is performed in a pie shop by eight actors.

Well, actually it's the Barrow Street Theater in Greenwich Village but for this occasion, it's been transformed into a pie shop — a working pie shop where a renowned chef actually makes meat pies — presumably not with human fillings — and you can dine on one if you pay extra and come early. We did not do this. We went for another kind of pie.

So you sit in this little pie shop that is small enough that the actors need no amplification. Quarters are cramped and so no latecomers can be seated…or if you absolutely have to leave, you're not allowed back in 'til after the intermission. The play takes place all around you. Depending on where you're seated, Sweeney himself may scream in your face and brandish a gleaming razor. If you're balding, the gent selling Pirelli's Miracle Elixir may apply a dab of it to your head. The actors sometimes walk and dance on the tables so watch where you put your fingers.

A friend arranged for us to get what are probably the best seats in the place so for much of the show, Amber and I were 2-4 feet from the performers. Sweeney tried to strangle one of the actors on our table. Another performer sat with us as she feasted on Mrs. Lovett's infamous, human-flavored meat pies. Some refer to all this as an "immersive" production. You're right in the middle of it.

Effective? Involving? Very much so. Like I said, I've seen Sweeney Todd several times. I don't think I ever understood the show so totally before. I don't think I ever heard every word of it with so much clarity.

Yeah, the nearness of it all can be a bit distracting. I have large feet and a new right knee that can't stay in one position for very long. I always have to keep moving it and there were moments there where I had to relocate my foot hastily so as not to leave it where an actor might stumble on it. One of the actors also tended to project a bit of moisture from his mouth as he projected his louder notes. But Amber and I both loved the whole experience. She had never seen the show in any other form and now wants to see it in all. In the cab on the way back to our hotel, she called up scenes from the Johnny Depp film version on her iPhone.

And hey, let's talk about those eight actors, most of whom play multiple roles. If you're familiar with the show, you might wonder how eight people can fill all those parts and even convey the sense of a crowd where the plot calls for a crowd to gather. They do. Just as you use your imagination to place scenes not in Mrs. Lovett's pie shop in other settings, you fill in for the lack of more bodies on the stage. A mob of four can feel like forty when you're totally immersed in this immersive production. A three-piece band (piano, violin and various woodwinds) can feel like a symphony orchestra.

Hugh Panaro plays Sweeney. Carolee Carmello, whom I've adored in several other shows, plays Mrs. Lovett. Both did fine jobs of making me forget others I've seen in those roles. There is no margin for error here. It's one thing to become a character seen from yards away. It's another to get every gesture, every facial expression perfect when viewed up close and personal. I never saw either of them as anything but the characters they were playing. And Ms. Carmello got every single laugh it was possible to get and only when appropriate…many of them laughs due to a subtle expression or eyebrow raise. Every performance there was perfectly scaled for the venue.

We often go to theater for the "take-home" part — the memories that will linger a long time after. I can still summon up certain moments from certain plays and musicals that have stayed with me for years, even decades later. I took home a lot from this presentation of Hugh Wheeler's book and Stephen Sondheim's songs. If you can get there, get there.

And see if you can get the seats we had, which were D-11 and D-12. You'll feel so much a part of the production, you'll think maybe you should have an Equity card to sit in them. And maybe you'll worry about the Demon Barber of Fleet Street coming by to give you a trim or a tracheotomy.

Click here to jump to the next day of our trip

Newborn guinea pigs…