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Gay Cirque performer in peak shape after conquering addictions
Joe Putignano says his passion for gymnastics never went away. Even in the throes of heroin addiction, he replayed his old routines in his mind. (Photo courtesy Cirque du Soleil)
Cirque du Soleil’s ‘Totem’
Aug. 15-Sept. 30
Plateau at National Harbor
201 Harbor View Ave.
Tickets: $40-$153
cirquedusoleil.com
Cirque du Soleil gymnast Joe Putignano prepares for his character in the big top show “Totem” by donning a dazzling costume containing eight pounds of Swarovski crystals. When he enters the arena, he descends from the ceiling illuminated in light.
“Totem,” which opens at the National Harbor on Wednesday, is a story about evolution, combining the scientific theories and myth that humans have developed about it. Putignano’s character, the Crystal Man, is the spark of hope and light that begins the journey. He says the character embodies Charles Darwin’s quote, “Light will be thrown on the origin of man.”
As he performs, audience members can sense the intensity and passion in the movement of his body. Company manager Jeff Lund describes him as a “human disco ball.” Putignano says, “It is difficult, performing in a heavy costume is like running a small machine and it does take a lot of practice.”
However, the audience will not realize that less than 10 years ago, the spark in Putignano’s life almost went out. At age 17, he began using various drugs, including ecstasy, cocaine and later heroin, and would not be clean again until he was around 29. When he was 19, he quit gymnastics thinking he would never return to the floor.
“I felt I betrayed myself,” he says. “I never wanted to do a handstand or a split again. It was like a divorce.”
Lund, who has worked with Putignano for almost two years and is in charge of almost all aspects of “Totem,” says Putignano’s performances these days defy his background.
“He is a world-class athlete,” he says. “His story is a very inspiring one.”
Joe Putignano (photo courtesy Joe Putignano)
Putignano began gymnastics when he was around 8 years old, after watching the Olympic gymnasts compete on television. He says as he watched them, he knew he wanted to be doing this for the rest of his life.
He was immediately very good and began competing around the U.S. and went to the Olympic Training Center in Colorado Springs twice when he was 11 and 13.
“As a child you bend to the laws of passion,” Putignano says. “You can’t imagine as many people as passionate as you. Later you see that it is a sport and there are rules, and now everybody sees your imperfections.”
As a Boston native, he says competing in New England is different from competing with top gymnasts from around the country. For a young Putignano, the mounting pressure to reach perfection and to compete began to wear on him. Especially, as he describes, an injury can completely derail a gymnast from his path very quickly.
“We know that our art form is fleeting, we can’t take it for granted because it can leave you in a moment,” he says.
He says growing up with gymnastics made it feel like his church. Though he did not come out until he was 19, being gay and a gymnast was never an issue for Putignano. He says, “The floor has no sexuality.” But the increased competition felt like a violation of his sacred space.
Putignano began taking ecstasy and cocaine during the “’90s rave era” and eventually quit gymnastics when he was a sophomore in college.
“To be a gymnast, one has to conquer perfect precision and control over the physical capacities of the body,” he says. “To be an addict, one must surrender this control over to the underworld, and I couldn’t keep them both together.”
After walking away from competing, Putignano plunged into what would turn out to be a very dark 10 years. He moved to New York in 1999 and began using heroin. He says his experiences with the drug were full of “bitter irony.”
“The more I shot up to escape the memories of my once beautiful pure sport, the quicker I nodded out into a dreamscape of performing my old gymnastics routines,” he says. “I was shooting up to escape the memory of my failed destiny, only to be flooded into an unconscious heroin state where I performed my gymnastics skills over and over. If there was ever a layer of Dante’s inferno, this was it.”
In New York City, he worked various jobs like waiting tables and modeling. He tried to stop several times with no success.
“Eventually, I was getting older and hadn’t gotten any better and over the years I saw the tiny spark of light inside me dimming down to nothing,” he says. “That one thing which made me myself was going to burn out forever. The fear of losing this light kept me constantly chasing sobriety.”
As time went on, Putignano ended up homeless and overdosed twice where he was declared dead both times.
“At the time of my overdoses, I was so far from reality that I was actually strengthened by my experience because I believed I had beat death,” he says.
This cycle continued until he was 26, when he was in rehab for the fifth time. One day, he went up into his room and began doing headstands. Though it would be another three years before he was completely clean and intense training was required to get back in shape, his interest was rekindled. But sobriety did not come easily.
“When I started to audition for shows, I was still not completely clean,” Putignano says. “I would be three months clean and relapse.”
Putignano’s second chance in gymnastics came when he got clean and began performing at the Metropolitan Opera House and Broadway Bares. A pivotal turning point came for him when he was eventually hired by Twyla Tharp to perform in her Broadway show “The Times They Are A Changin,’” based on Bob Dylan’s music. This was important to Putignano, as he was rejected from the show twice before being hired.
“It was such an important point in my sobriety. Tharp is an icon in the dance world,” he says.
While performing on Broadway and the Opera house, he connected with Robert Lepage, one of the creators of Cirque du Soleil. Lepage knew Putignano’s background and asked him if he would like to be part of show. Putignano says it is not a coincidence that his character should represent hope and light in the world.
“For myself, my character represents my sobriety, my hope, my faith and the relentless power of the human spirit,” he says.
Now six days a week, he brings that light to others through the 4,000 pieces of reflective glass. And just like Putignano, Lund says the costume is far more durable than it seems.
“At the end of the night, it gets thrown in the wash with everything else,” he says. “Sometimes pieces will fall off, but we have people who will reattach them when it happens.”
With a tight performing schedule and around six years of sobriety under his belt, Putignano says remaining sober is still a challenge.
“I would love to say that touring has been easy for me in sobriety, but the truth is, it isn’t,” he says. “Some humans are like trees and they need to stay close to their roots. My sober network is in New York City and it has been difficult without them.”
Despite the challenge, he has remained clean so far and he is able to use his experiences to be an emotional support for other performers. He says since he has been in dark places himself, he can be empathetic to others’ emotional struggles.
Lund describes the “Totem” performers and crew as one big family. Nationality and sexuality do not matter there, he says.
“For me as a manager, I try to avoid making lines between artists and technicians and so on, “ he says. “I know in other companies it may be like that, but I like my entire crew to be connected with each other. This is made easy since we are on the road together for so much out of the year.”
What keeps Putignano going is the thought that many who have been in his position have not received a second chance.
“I have to continue to carry the torch for the dead, for those who didn’t get a second chance and I have to do everything in my power to bring hope to the hopeless,” he says. “I was once the hopeless.”
Another Cirque show to open in Baltimore
“Dralion,” Cirque du Soleil’s acrobatic show that fuses influences from the East and the West, is opening in Baltimore on Aug. 22 and runs through Aug. 26.
The name of the show represents the different parts of the world combined— it’s the combination of the dragon, representing the East, and the lion, representing the west. It mainly draws on the 3,000-year-old tradition of Chinese acrobatics combined with the more modern Cirque du Soleil twist, according to the website.
In the show, the four elements of nature come to life. At first they are separated and have their distinct colors. Air is blue, water is green, fire is red and earth is ochre. When they are combined balance is achieved.
“Dralion” is one of Cirque du Soleil’s arena shows, and is performing at the 1st Mariner Arena (201 West Baltimore St.) Tickets range from $40 to $165. For more information, visit cirquedusoleil.com.
Movies
A Sondheim masterpiece ‘Merrily’ rolls onto Netflix
Embracing raw truth lurking just under the clever lyrics
It’s been long lamented by fans of the late Stephen Sondheim – and they are legion – that Hollywood has hardly ever been successful in transposing his musicals onto the big screen.
Sure, his first Broadway show – “West Side Story,” on which he collaborated with the then-superstar composer Leonard Bernstein – was made into an Oscar-winning triumph in 1961, but after that, despite repeated attempts, even the most starry-eyed Sondheim aficionados would admit that the mainstream movie industry has mostly offered only watered-down versions of his works that were too popular to ignore: “A Little Night Music” was muddled into an ill-fitted star vehicle for Liz Taylor, “Sweeney Todd” became a middling entry in the Tim Burton/Johnny Depp canon, “Into the Woods” mutated into a too-literal all-star fantasy with most of its wolf-ish teeth removed, and we’re still waiting for a film version of “Company” – not that we would have high hopes for it anyway, given the track record.
Of course, most of those aficionados would also be able to tell you exactly why this has always been the case: erudite, sophisticated, and driven by an experimental boldness that would come to redefine American musical theater, Sondheim’s musicals were never about escapism; rather, they deconstructed the romanticized tropes and presentational glamour, turning them upside down to explore a more intellectual realm which favored psychological nuance and moral ambiguity over feel-good fantasy. Instead of pretty lovers and obvious villains, they showcased flawed, complicated, and uncomfortably relatable people who were just as messed-up as the people in the audience. Any attempt to bring them to the screen inevitably depended on changes to make them more appealing to the mainstream, because they were, at heart, the antithesis of what the Hollywood entertainment machine considers to be marketable.
To be fair, this often proved true on the stage as well as the screen. Few of Sondheim’s shows, even the most acclaimed ones, were bona fide “hits,” and at least half of them might be considered “failures” from a strictly commercial point of view – which makes it all the more ironic that perhaps the most purely “Sondheim” of the stage-to-screen Sondheim efforts stems from one of his most notorious “flops.”
“Merrily We Roll Along” was originally conceived and created more than 40 years ago, a reunion of Sondheim with “Company” book-writer George Furth and director Harold Prince, based on a 1934 play by George Kaufman and Moss Hart. Telling the 20-year story of three college friends who grow apart and become estranged as their lives and their goals diverge, it wasn’t ever going to be a feel-good musical; what made it even more of a “downer” was that it told that story in reverse, beginning with the unhappy ending and then going backward in time, step by step, to the youthful idealism and deep bonds of camaraderie that they shared in their first meeting. On one hand, getting the “bad news” first keeps the ending from becoming a crushing disappointment; but on the other hand, the irony that results from knowing how things play out becomes more and more painful with each and every scene.
The original production, mounted in 1981, compounded its challenging format with the additional conceit of casting mostly teen and young adult actors in roles that required them to age – backwards – across two decades; though the cast included future success stories (Jason Alexander and Giancarlo Esposito, among them), few young actors could be expected to convey the layered maturity required of such a task, and few audiences were capable of suspending their disbelief while watching a teenager play a disillusioned 40-year old. This, coupled with a minimalist presentation that left audiences feeling like they were watching their nephew’s high school play, turned “Merrily We Roll Along” into Sondheim’s most notorious Broadway flop – despite raves reviews for the show’s intricately woven score and the xtinging candor of its lyrics.
Fast forward to 2022, when renowned UK theater director Maria Friedman staged a new revival of the show in New York. In the interim, “Merrily” had undergone multiple rewrites and conceptual changes in an effort to “fix” its problems, abandoning the concept of using young performers and opting for a more “fleshed-out” approach to production design, and the show’s reputation, fueled by a love for its quintessentially “Sondheim-esque” score, had grown to the level of “underappreciated masterpiece.” Inspired by an earlier production she had helmed at home a decade earlier, Friedman mounted an Off-Broadway version of the show starring Jonathan Groff, Daniel Radcliffe, and Lindsay Mendez – and suddenly, as one critic observed, Sondheim’s biggest failure became “the flop that finally flew.” The production transferred to Broadway, winning Tony Awards for Groff and Radcliffe’s performances, as well as the prize for Best Revival of a Musical, in 2024.
Sondheim, who died at 91 in 2021, participated in the remount, though he did not live to see its premiere, nor the success that officially validated his most “problematic” work.
Fortunately, we DO get the chance to see it, thanks to a filmed record of the stage performance, directed by Friedman herself, which was released in limited theaters for a brief run last year, but which is now streaming on Netflix – allowing Sondheim fans to finally experience the show in the way it was designed to be seen: as a live performance.
Embracing the conventions of live theatre into its own cinematic ethos, this record of the show gives viewers the kind of up-close access to its performances that is impossible to experience even from the front-row of the theatre. The performances it gives us are impeccable: Groff’s raw and deeply deluded Frank Shepard, the ambitious composer who sells out his values and alienates his friends on the road to success and wealth; Radcliffe’s mawkishly loyal Charlie Kringas, who remains loyal to the dream he shared with his best friend until he can’t anymore; and Mendez’ heartbreaking perfection as Mary Flynn, the wisecracking good-time girl who rounds out their trio while concealing a secret passion of her own – each of them bring the kind of raw and vulnerable honesty to their roles that can, at last, reveal both the deep insights of Sondheim’s intricate lyrics and the discomforting emotional conflicts of Furth’s mercilessly brutal script.
Yes, it’s true that any filmed record of a live performance loses something in the translation; there’s a visceral connection to the players and a feeling of real-time experience that doesn’t quite come through; but thanks to unified vision that Friedman shepherded and instilled into her cast – including each and every one of the brilliant ensemble, who undertake the show’s supporting characters and embody “the blob” of show-biz hangers-on who are central to its cynical theme.
Honestly, we can’t think of another Sondheim screen adaptation that comes close to this one for embracing the raw truth that was always lurking just under the clever lyrics and creative rhyme schemes. For that reason alone, it’s essential viewing for any Sondheim fan – because it’s probably the closest we’ll ever get to having a “real” Sondheim film that lives up to the genius behind it.
a&e features
New book celebrates 1970s dance music icons
‘A Night at the Disco’ features interviews with Donna Summer, Debbie Harry, more
If you’re a fan of 1970s-era dance music, don’t miss the irresistible new book by Christian John Wikane and Alice Harris, “A Night at the Disco,” which revisits more than 90 interviews conducted with some of the biggest names in pop culture.
“A Night at the Disco” (ACC Art Books) was published on March 24, and distributed by Simon & Schuster. It celebrates more than 100 artists who sparked a phenomenon in dance music from 1970-1979 and features excerpts from interviews with everyone from Donna Summer to Debbie Harry.
Lost City Books (2467 18th St., N.W.) will welcome author Christian John Wikane for a book signing and conversation about “A Night at the Disco” on Thursday, April 16 at 6 p.m. Details at lostcitybookstore.com. Bird in Hand Coffee & Books in Baltimore (11 E. 33rd St.) )will also host a Q&A with the author on Wednesday, April 15 at 6 p.m. Details at theivybookshop.com.
Below is an excerpt from “A Night at the Disco.”
“I’ll let in anyone who looks like they’ll make things fun.” Steve Rubell is guiding a New York Times reporter through Studio 54 as resident DJ Richie Kaczor dazzles the crowd with records by CHIC, Odyssey, and T-Connection. “Disco, that’s where the happy people go,” The Trammps sing as dancers spin and twirl underneath tubes of flashing lights. Seven months since Rubell and co-owner Ian Schrager opened Studio 54 in April 1977, it’s welcomed untold numbers of “happy people” … at least those lucky enough to pass through the doors.
“We were part of the chosen few,” says André De Shields, who immortalized the title role in The Wiz on Broadway at the time. “We could show up at Studio 54 and the doorman at the velvet stanchion would look over everyone and point to us from The Wiz to come in, that kind of thing.” As the lead vocalist in the GRAMMY-nominated Dr. Buzzard’s Original Savannah Band, whose debut modernized big band sophistication for the discothèques, Cory Daye had carte blanche in the club. “The energy was like a New Year’s Eve party every night,” she says. “I would go up to the mezzanine and watch the mechanical light pillars go up and down, metallic confetti falling from the ceiling, the spoon and the moon. I was so fascinated and enamored by it.
“When a certain song came on, the people would just rush to the dance floor. There was no contact dancing — the hustle was pretty much on its way out — but it was just an amazing experience to see all the cultures together. It was a fusion of cultures, which described my life and my band, so I was right at home there.”
“Studio 54 was the place,” adds Linda Clifford. “Crazy parties. If you could think it, you would see it. It was like a circus. Just an amazing place to be. I worked 54 so many times. It was like a second home to me. The people there treated me so well. The crowd always seemed to enjoy my show. I always had a good time with them. That was the most important thing: making sure that they had fun.”
Well before Studio 54 opened, disco had become a business juggernaut. “A four billion dollar market and still growing,” Billboard announced in February 1977, with dance music offering more variety than ever. “There is no longer a single, readily identifiable disco beat, but a kaleidoscope of sounds that are melodic and danceable,” Tom Moulton told the magazine. In the clubs, records by veteran artists like Stevie Wonder and the Bee Gees were mixed in with a range of new acts like Grace Jones, Boney M., and The Ritchie Family, while everyone from ABBA to Marvin Gaye scored number one pop hits with songs that had club-centric storylines.
Beyond the charts, disco itself remained as idiosyncratic as ever, especially on several productions by Laurin Rinder and W. Michael Lewis, whose studio creations, El Coco (“Let’s Get It Together,” “Cocomotion”) and Le Pamplemousse (“Le Spank”), joined their own “Lust” from Seven Deadly Sins (1977) among the most tantalizing releases on AVI Records. Rinder & Lewis also produced acts for the newly hatched Butterfly Records in Los Angeles, where Saint Tropez (“On a Rien à Perdre”) and Tuxedo Junction (“Moonlight Serenade”) reflected the duo’s high gloss sound, spanning everything from European sophistication to a more literal translation of the ’40s sensibilities popularized by Dr. Buzzard’s Original Savannah Band.
12-inch singles had also grown as the preferred format to approximate the club music experience at home. Nearly a year after Atlantic Records introduced its series of promotional 12-inch singles for DJs, New York-based Salsoul Records released the industry’s first commercially available 12-inch single, “Ten Percent” by Double Exposure, in May 1976. A year later, T.K. Records was the first label to certify a gold record for a 12-inch single when Peter Brown’s “Do You Wanna Get Funky With Me” tallied one million sales.— Christian John Wikane
(From “A Night at the Disco” by Alice Harris & Christian John Wikane. Published by ACC Art Books.)
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The Bonnet Ball was held at JR.’s Bar (1519 17th St., N.W.) on Sunday.
(Washington Blade photos and video by Michael Key)
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New book celebrates 1970s dance music icons
