Over the Hill

A perfectly fine evening of nonprofessional dinner theater

"You have to admit that it was kind of cute how they swapped out names that sounded like Mandy during the 'Mandy' number," I try.

"They kiped that from Barry's six-CD box set," my sister moans. "And what was with all those numbers that ended with the singers slowly raising one outstretched arm toward the sky at the end of the song? Nobody does that any more!"

I try to explain cabaret style to her, but she's not really listening; her eyes are closed and she's humming the chorus of "Copacabana." She stays this way until we pull up in front of my house, when she rouses herself and says to me, "Thanks for tonight. The dinner was really good."

Looks like he made it -- if a revue of your greatest hits onstage at a Phoenix dog track counts as "making it."
Looks like he made it -- if a revue of your greatest hits onstage at a Phoenix dog track counts as "making it."

Details

Continues through April 2 at Phoenix Greyhound Park, 3801 East Washington Street. Call 602-279-3129.

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She leans over and kisses me on the cheek. "And the next time the director of a show asks you not to review it, listen to him."

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