Chenoweth Connections
Last week on the way to my 35th year Yale Law School class reunion, I stopped in New York and saw three Broadway shows. One was a preview performance of The Queen of Versailles, the new Stephen Schwartz musical starting Kristin Chenoweth.
Kristin and I have crossed paths before.
In 2001, Seattle Men’s Chorus presented a song cycle promoting breast cancer awareness, “Sing for the Cure.” We invited Kristin to sing the solo parts in the piece, which was the second act of the concert. In the first act, Kristin did her own set as well as singing several songs together with the chorus.
I have performed in theatre and choirs for five decades. A handful of experiences stand out, such as singing Howell’s Requiem at Saint Mark’s Cathedral, “Agnus Dei” with Windy City Gay Chorus, and Stephen Smith’s “Sonnet” with Vancouver Men’s Chorus. But sharing the stage with Kristin was incomparable.
Kristin charmed both SMC and the audience throughout her visit. Her stunning “Glitter and Be Gay” was the best I’ve ever heard. The highlight of the concert was a gorgeous arrangement of “I Could Have Danced All Night,” originally commissioned by the New York Gay Men’s Chorus. The men’s voices weaved together “Begin the Beguine” and other dance melodies as Kristin soared above us with the classic showstopper from My Fair Lady. It was the most sublime single performance I have ever been a part of.
I played Charlie Brown in You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown at the Bellingham Academy of Performing Arts in 1982. I can still recite the opening monologue by heart.
Kristin played Sally in the 1998 Broadway revival of You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown. Like everyone else, I was blown away by Kristin’s performance. It was no surprise when she won the Tony. But I didn’t see Kristin on Broadway.
Skokie is a Chicago suburb with a large Jewish community, including many Holocaust survivors. In 1978, the ACLU stood on principle and successfully fought for the rights of a group of Neo-Nazis to march through the streets of Skokie. As a LGBT rights lawyer at the ACLU of Illinois twenty years later, I worked with many individuals who were involved in the decision and its consequences for the community. But the only time I’ve ever been to Skokie was to see You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown. On its way to Broadway, the show premiered at the Skokie Center for the Performing Arts.
I am not a Kristin completist. I didn’t see Steel Pier, The Apple Tree, On the Twentieth Century, or Promises, Promises. I missed her in A New Brain, although I regularly hear her voice on the original cast recording .
However, in 1999 I saw the rarest example of Chenoweth-on-Broadway. She played Louise in the non-musical comedy Epic Proportions. It closed after only 93 performances.
I’ve seen Wicked on three memorable occasions. The first time was seeing Kristin and Idina in the original cast. They were amazing. Sadly, it was my last Broadway trip before parenthood dramatically reduced my travel and theatre-going.
The second time at Wicked was with my mother. I’ve found special performance tickets to celebrate each of her new decade birthdays. For her 70th we saw the Broadway tour of Wicked at a special benefit performance in support of marriage equality. (For her 60th we saw Barbara Cook sing Sondheim.)
The third time my daughter and I took the train to Vancouver. We saw Wicked at the Queen Elizabeth Theatre for Eleanor’s 9th birthday.
Several years ago I shared these examples of encounters with Kristin in an essay called “Six Degrees of Kristen Chenoweth.” Since then our paths have crossed twice more. To celebrate my mother’s 80th we saw Kristin at a benefit for Bellingham’s Mount Baker Theatre’s 95th birthday. It was a marvelous concert. Of course Kristin sang “Popular.” But the highlights for me included “Desperado” and a mashup of “Losing My Mind” and “Always on my Mind.”
My daughter Eleanor also attended the Mount Baker Theatre concert. Kristin invited the high school Drama class to come to the soundcheck and see the show. When Eleanor went to college she was very excited to tell me Kristin is her sorority sister.
My most recent encounter with Kristin was this month at The Queen of Versailles. The new musical is based on the documentary of the same name. It’s about a shady real estate mogul and his social-climbing wife, who decide to build the biggest private house in America. Kristin’s character Jackie is at the center. A genial F. Murray Abraham plays her husband “The TimeShare King.” The music is by Stephen Schwartz, the composer of Wicked, Godspell, and Pippin.
Kristin sounds amazing, and she has a charming connection with the audience. I was fascinated by the script, which frequently sounds like a Marxist commentary on wealth and poverty. Kristin is from rural Oklahoma, and obviously chose the show because she connects to its hardscrabble characters.
The show was in previews, and they’re still tinkering and tightening. Sadly, the fundamental problem for me was the unmemorable songs. I could be wrong, but I doubt Stephen Schwartz will finally win a Tony.
Twenty-six years after the non-musical Epic Proportions closed early, Kristin’s name and voice should be enough to keep The Queen of Versailles open longer than 93 performances. But if you want to see her as Jackie probably shouldn’t wait too long. Just in case.
Midway through The Queen of Versailles, Jackie hosts a masquerade ball. While giving a fundraising speech, Jackie pulls a handful of chotchke gifts out of her handbag. She tosses lipstick and chapstick out into the audience. And then a black t-shirt with her face on it, tied in a ribbon.
At the October 16, 2025 preview performance of The Queen of Versailles, Kristin tossed the T-shirt into the tenth row. It landed in my lap. Unfortunately, my son and I did not have similar good luck with home run balls when we sat behind the outfield for a Seattle Mariners playoff game.
I told my daughter about my good fortune on Broadway. Eleanor said the T-shirt was meant for her because she and Kristin are sorority sisters. I said Kristin and I obviously share a cosmic connection. We agreed we’d be able to tell from the shirt size.
When I arrived home from New York and unpacked my carry-on bag, I finally unrolled our The Queen of Versailles T-shirt.
It’s my size.
