I’ve been reading a lot lately about the live theater, and Broadway in particular, being in serious trouble—in its death throes, in fact. Drawing such a sweeping conclusion, based on a two-month dip in box office, is like predicting the advent of an ice age on the basis of a single harsh winter.

Liza Minnelli

I once interviewed the great American playwright and director Garson Kanin (1912-1999), who told me, “As long as I can remember, people have said that Broadway is dying. Well, I’ll tell you. All you need is three hit shows and everybody will say, ‘Broadway is back and better than ever.’”

Well, Hairspray, Gypsy, Spring Awakening, and Young Frankenstein—all holdovers from previous seasons—may be closing, but Billy Elliott is a hit; Shrek looks promising; and West Side Story and Guys and Dolls have yet to open. Wicked is still packing them in at 95 percent of the Gershwin Theatre’s colossal capacity; Jersey Boys is still playing to 100 percent; and Mamma Mia and Irving Berlin’s White Christmas are still holding on at about 95 percent as well. Even among the straight plays, with their more limited appeal, A Man for All Seasons is playing to about 95 percent of capacity; All My Sons is at about 85 percent. and so is Horton Foote’s Dividing the Estate.

Reports of Broadway’s imminent death would seem to be exaggerated. Still the rumor persists and the press seems to cultivate the myth, despite the numbers. In slamming Rosie O’Donnell’s live Thanksgiving television variety show, James Poniewozi of Time magazine went so far as to lament that the show’s disappointing ratings “were further evidence that Broadway is not mainstream American entertainment any more.”

I really think that Rosie’s tawdry, under-rehearsed show bore little resemblance to the sleek polish of Broadway. And to argue that Broadway bears no resemblance to the mainstream of American entertainment is to ignore the history of American popular culture outright. Without Broadway, there wouldn’t be Vegas, there wouldn’t be music videos—at least not as we know them. That’s right—without Broadway, there’s no Britney Spears at the circus; there’s no Beyoncé; there’s no Pink. That American sense of theatricality and showmanship is derived by direct lineage from vaudeville, Ziegfeld, and the Broadway stage. And, oh yes, how do you explain the success of films like Chicago and Mamma Mia, if not for the continued appeal of Broadway-style entertainment?

So why the shudders of fear?

This fall, as the economy tanked, Broadway attendance took a 10 percent dip. Shows that had been overly optimistic in their hype closed. Nonetheless, Broadway attendance, which topped 12 million tickets during the 2005-2006 season, continues to inch upward on the whole. There are fully a dozen shows on Broadway right now, which, despite the economic downturn, continue to play at better than 80 percent of capacity. We’ve seen it all before.

Consider the 1990-1991 season, which suffered because of the Gulf war. Attendance dipped nine percent, to 7.36 million from 8.03 million tickets sold the previous season. Broadway recovered and those tallies look miniscule today.

Last season, Broadway managed to hold its own despite disruption from a strike, selling over 12 million tickets and grossing $937.5 million. That ain’t chump change.

LIZA’S AT THE PALACE

Richard Zoglin echoed his Time magazine colleague’s observations about Rosie O’Donnell’s variety show and Broadway when he opined that “Liza Minnelli wasn’t the only reason Rosie O’Donnell’s NBC variety special flopped a couple of weeks back, but she sure didn’t help.” He described the most beloved survivor in show business as “waddling out onstage as the show’s big-name guest star…[looking] plump, shaky and a little out of touch.”

He was then obliged to concede that “[Liza] looks a lot better on a theater stage than she does under the close scrutiny of TV cameras—sleeker, steadier, slimmer. The spangly pantsuits flatter her. She sounded better too…”

I have to agree.

I’ve seen Liza be painful and Liza be transcendent. Amazingly, in her current incarnation at the Palace Theatre in New York City, Broadway’s most holy temple of vaudeville, she is triumphant. The woman just doesn’t wear out, she simply regroups and returns. Her voice is stronger than it’s been for years, and she looks terrific. Indeed, she sounds a lot like the old Liza again, expertly navigating around the ways that time and life may have diminished her remarkable set of pipes. And when she doesn’t sound like the old Liza, she sounds a lot like Judy.

Liza may be a specialized taste. She has all the down-home sincerity of Mitzi Gaynor, and the unaffected genuineness of Holly Golightly, and yet she is possessed of a certain palpable charm—repugnant to some, irresistible to others. I’m afraid I fall into the latter category. She charms me. I adored her hokey and manipulative show, and I enjoyed her effusive audience, which began the first ovation of the evening as the lights dimmed.

I enjoyed her stories about growing up famous, and self-deprecating jokes: “Remember when I used to sit down during Act Two?” asks Liza. She then pulls a chair out from the wings and announces, “Now I need to sit down during Act One!”

When she reaches the Fred Ebb lyric from Cabaret, “The day she died the neighbors came to snicker; ‘Well that’s what comes from too much pills and liquor,’” she pauses with a guilty look, as if to suggest, “I hope you don’t think this is autobiographical.” She then finishes the thought by altering the lyric, “When I go, I’m not going like Elsie!”

She is especially funny on the topic of her numerous past husbands: “I used to sing a lot of love songs in my act, but lately I seem drawn to songs about falling out of love.”

She is strongest on the signature Minnelli material—“Cabaret” ends the first act; “New York New York” the second. Her second act tribute to her godmother, Kay Thompson, is thrilling, when we can understand the lyrics, and she is especially strong on “I Love a Violin.” Finally, she slays the audience by using her mother’s signature Christmas ballad, “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” as an encore.

The show is a generous two hours and 20 minutes with intermission. Liza continues at the Palace until January 4. Those who don’t understand the appeal can still catch Patti LuPone in Gypsy over at the St. James, through January 11.