Broadway titans Tune, Rivera joining forces
More than 20 years has passed since Tommy Tune oversaw a major Broadway production. But the native of Wichita Falls who grew up in Houston remains, at age 78, a committed song-and-dance man.
Without a large-scale show to tie him down, Tune has instead found time for all sorts of other projects. He’s toured a oneman show based on his life and career, which started as a kid in Houston in the 1950s organizing neighborhood song revues. His parents sent him to New York for a week after Tune graduated from Lamar High School, and his future was then set. He landed his first Broadway role in “Baker Street” in 1965 and in the years since has won 10 Tony Awards as a performer, choreographer and director.
This week Tune comes home for a show in Galveston’s Grand 1894 Opera House, though it won’t be a one-man deal. “Two for the Road” pairs Tune with fellow Broadway legend Chita Rivera, for a collection of songand-dance numbers. Tune talked about their collaboration and how Houston put him on the path to Broadway.
Q: I was trying to figure out if you two had ever been in a production together. I came up empty. Am I missing something?
A: No, we’ve only been on stage twice together. We presented an award to George Abbott when he turned 100 years old. And then for Chita’s 80th birthday celebration, we did a number from “Bye Bye Birdie”: “Rosie,” the last number in the show. And it stopped the show. So we thought we should do something else. And the time has come. We had a wonderful rehearsal yesterday. I couldn’t sleep after that. She’s so dynamic to work with. We have Graciela Daniele directing us, and she’s so talented. I really have a dream job.
Q: What will be the format? Will it all be duets?
A: We’ll do some stuff together, and she’ll do some of her songs, and I’ll do some of mine. There are several places we get to sing and dance together. Some things you expect. She can’t walk on stage without doing a medley from “West Side Story.” So there are things we have to do. But there are some new things, too, and it’s all in a unique arrangement.
Q: There’s a lot of material you could pull from.
A: Yes, that’s what we have to offer. One hundred fifteen years of stage experience. We like combining statistics. If you laid us end to end in our stocking feet, we’re 118¾ inches. I mean, I’ve spent 55 years in the Broadway world. It’s amazing just saying that. We were standing there looking in the mirror learning
our steps, and we wondered, “How long have we been doing this?” But we’re beginners again with each show. You create for a moment. I call it Broadway boot camp.
Q: Do you recall the first time you met? You both came up in what some believe to be the last great period for musicals.
A: Some people call it the Golden Era, and I believe that. I got in at the end, but Chita was smack dab in the middle of it. Even though we never worked together, I went to an audition once, and she was in the first row with the choreographer and director. They narrowed it down to four guys. I didn’t get the job, but I think she liked me. She doesn’t remember it, but I remember it clearly. Q: You’ve gravitated more
toward these types of shows than taking on a large-scale production.
A: Directing and choreography are these huge tasks, and they’re more complicated now, new producers and union rules. It’s more fun to just go out and perform for people. To give back to the world that way. I can’t see myself making another big show.
Q: And I feel like for you it started at the Alley Theatre.
A: Yes, the original Alley that was in a converted fan factory. “The Glass Menagerie” was the first play I ever saw. They recently revived it with Sally Field. My friend Jane Fonda and I went together to the opening. She’d never seen “Glass Menagerie” before. But for me, it touched back to the first thing I saw. So we had a long talk about what we’d seen. It turned out in Houston (film and stage actress) Fay Bainter played the lead. I asked Jane if she knew her, and she said, “That was my baby sitter. My father would leave me with her when I was a girl. It changed my life.” But after that play, I watched everything. Community theater. I saw “The King and I,” and it was so different than “Glass Menagerie.” It had song and dance, and it made me laugh and cry. But I didn’t have a word for it. “What is this? Is it a play?” No, not a play. I found out it was a Broadway musical. That was it. My fate was sealed. I had to be where that was happening.
Q: I think outsiders can view dancing as this rigid act of repetition. But it’s such a personal, expressive thing. Or at least you give the impression that it is.
A: It’s always been that for me. When you express yourself through your body, you’re at the root of life going back to original dances around campfires. The hunter comes back and tells the story about how he slayed the beast while everybody sits around and eats the beast. He holds the fur he’s stripped off, and he becomes the beast. That’s the first theater, followed by celebratory chanting and dancing. It’s not different from what we do now. We tell stories and express joy and excitement and sorrow for the events in our lives. That’s what Chita and I have done. That’s what Chita and I are doing.
Q: You have avoided revivals for the most part. But tell me about this “Grand Hotel” production you just did.
A: I’m really proud of that show. I think it holds up wonderfully. And I’ve been to Japan three times this year to direct a company with a cast of 100, all females, even playing the men’s roles. And I think it came off great.
Q: When you sleep, do you dream about dancing?
A: I don’t. I really don’t. And I don’t know why. I guess it’s because my life is a dream. When I go to sleep I take a break from the dream. I mean, how can I be in Japan making this show with 100 people? That’s a sensational dream. It sold out completely. They loved me there. They called me Mr. Broadway. Well, some of them. I’d ride the subway, and I was so much taller than anybody else there. They’d look at me and laugh. They’d say, “Look! (Garbled sound) .… .” And I couldn’t understand what they were saying. I asked somebody, “What does that mean?” He said, “They’re calling you Gulliver.”