We're your Dreamgirls

I always thought theatre should be treated like film. I always thought that, until tonight. Tonight, up to my elbows in a bag of popcorn that spilled little bits onto the floor, I realized that film should be more like theatre. It is, sometimes, when the lights dim and the audience claps - like they do in LA - but it's rare. Tonight was that rare moment.

In a theatre packed with the Who's Who of Broadway's industry I was one of the first New Yorkers (and first people on planet earth, since New Yorkers are pretty much the forerunners of planet earth) to see the movie musical Dreamgirls. As the lights dimmed, we clapped. The first song began, and we clapped. Our 2004 Tony winner appeared on stage and we clapped. We cried, we cheered we laughed. Thunderous applause broke out in the middle of the film, as if the actors were there, live, in front of us. And as the credits rolled and each actors name appeared on screen we applauded like a joyous curtain call, clapping to the beat of the music before the next star appeared for our thanks, our honor.

Most of the time movies based on musicals fail. Most of the time musicals based on movies fail. But sometimes, in very rare cases, we both win - and there is a fleeting two hours when Hollywood is united with Broadway and we bow to each other.