RENT’s 20th Anniversary

January 25th, 2016

Today marks the 20th anniversary of the first preview of RENT at the New York Theatre Workshop off-Broadway – and also of the tragic and untimely death of the show’s creator, Jonathan Larson, in the early hours of the morning due to an aortic aneurysm. He was one week shy of 36 years old.

For me personally, RENT represents the single piece of art with which I have had the longest and most prolific relationship, as singer, actor, composer, student, teacher, director – but most of all, as a human being. When I encountered RENT at age 15, two years before I would need it, RENT gave me the most critical tools I would use to understand and cope with my own experiences of sickness and the transformation of identity that accompanies it. It’s because of RENT that I write musicals, it’s because of RENT that I write pieces based in advocacy, and it’s honestly not a stretch to say that it’s because of RENT that I am basically a functional human being.

20 years ago on this night, when the original cast of RENT gathered to sing a memorial tribute concert as an unanticipated memorial tribute to Jonathan, the cast stayed seated for almost the entirety of Act One. But once La Vie Boheme rolled along, the cast could not help but surge with the energy and life of this unrivaled musical masterpiece. They jumped on the table and sang their hearts out, as casts across the world have continued to do ever since. It is in this spirit that I share this chronological album I’ve created, to celebrate my own transforming and transformative involvement with this piece over the years. I honestly don’t know who I’d be without it.

From the bottom of my heart – thank you, Jonathan Larson.

Today marks the 20th anniversary of the first preview of RENT at the New York Theatre Workshop off-Broadway – and also…

Posted by Michael Bihovsky on Monday, January 25, 2016

Thank You, Jon Stewart

August 7th, 2015

“It’s the end of an era.”

I usually hate that hyperbolic phrase, which is most often used to indicate distress that, say, McDonald’s will no longer be serving its vintage French Fry-flavored milkshake. And yet as Jon Stewart stepped down from his post last night as host of “The Daily Show,” I could not help but feel it: it’s the end of an era. And even my favorite milkshake can’t console me, because it was discontinued.

It’s difficult to say how much “The Daily Show” has meant to me in the last five years that I’ve been watching it. At the end of what has usually been a long and difficult day, Jon Stewart has consistently provided me with laughter and joy so that I can go to bed hopeful and start again tomorrow. That on its own has been a monumental gift that I have treasured dearly.

But my gratitude goes far beyond that. Jon Stewart has been a primary catalyst to bring me out of my previous apathy to current events, leading me not just to care deeply about the issues affecting our country and our planet, but also to believe that things can change for the better –and to take on the mantel myself as a political activist. Jon Stewart helped teach me that sure, you can win an argument by preaching moral and political truths; but if you can make people laugh while doing it, you can truly engage people’s hearts and minds. I am a better writer, a better performer, a better advocate, and a better and happier person because of Jon Stewart.

Jon Stewart has brought a lot of people together; when two Daily Show enthusiasts meet, we have immediate ground for potentially hours of conversation. The show also brings people who are already close even closer. My parents and I always watch the daily show, and whether or not I am home to watch it with them, it still brings us together as a family, to laugh together and to think together. Although I’m sad that he is leaving, I cannot blame Jon for wanting to experience that same sense of togetherness with his own family more than he is currently able to do under the rigorous schedule of not just a daily show, but the Daily Show.

I will miss Jon very much, but I know that even though he has a unique place in the hearts of millions, his first loyalty is and should be to his own life and family. I am so grateful for every moment he has been a part of my life. And I’m pretty sure he’ll be popping up to say hello every so often – as he said in last night’s final taping, this isn’t goodbye; it’s a pause in the conversation. It may be a bit of an awkward pause, with so much fodder just sitting there for satirical taking – but it’s not forever.

Thank you, Jon Stewart – go have fun. You’ve earned it.

An Open Letter to My Beard

August 6th, 2015


All right, beard. Here’s the deal.

I know that you’re supposed to make me look more sophisticated, and artistic.

I know that your presence sometimes gets me noticed on the street (“Hey, aren’t you the food allergy guy?”).

I even know that women say you make me look handsome, and that on very rare occasions, these women are younger than 60 years old.

But I’m going to level with you: you make me uncomfortable, physically and emotionally. You seriously exacerbate my longstanding Peter Pan complex, and for some weird-ass reason, you make the left side of my face go numb when I’m trying to fall asleep.

And so I’m going to have to let you go. No, don’t look at me like that – you will always have a place inside of me. But inside, beard. For now, it has to be inside.

I hope that you’ll understand. I hope you’ll appreciate that I talked this out with you ahead of time, instead of doing something rash. Speaking of which, did I mention you’re giving me a rash?

This is the way it has to be. Fine, go and tell your friends I abandoned you – I don’t need you. And I certainly don’t need to be saved.

I need to be shaved.

Go See “Inside Out”!

July 20th, 2015

If you have not yet seen “Inside Out” – go. I’ve seen it twice now, and I think I could easily see it another dozen times and continue to find new layers of nuance, wit, and beauty.


I’ve written extensively on the topic of chronic physical illness. This is an important topic to me for many reasons, one of which is that chronic physical illness is something of a taboo in our culture. And yet I find that mental illness is even more stigmatized, and the idea that people can just “snap out” of something like depression is horrifyingly pervasive.

“Inside Out” is a fantastic and endearingly nuanced way to introduce children to the concept of depression, which unfortunately so many of them will have to deal with later in life. Some of them may be going through it already, and they deserve the knowledge from day one that it isn’t trivial, and it isn’t their fault.

The kids in my life loved this movie, but if anything, adults appreciate it even more. Most of the people I’ve spoken to have received the gifts of this movie’s themes on an extremely personal and cathartic level.

I have much more I’d like to write about this movie, but I don’t want to give away any spoilers. So perhaps a part two will follow sometime soon. In the meantime, if you haven’t already – go see “Inside Out”!!

A Tribute to James Horner

July 7th, 2015

Last week, I was devastated to learn of the untimely death of James Horner, an extraordinarily prolific film composer, and my personal favorite composer since I was twelve years old.

James Horner

Second only to John Williams, James Horner is likely the most well-known film composer of all time. And even if you do not know the name of James Horner, you are most certainly familiar with his music. “My Heart Will Go On” from his hauntingly beautiful Titanic score. “Somewhere Out There” from An American Tail. The scores to hundreds of films, including Braveheart, A Beautiful Mind, Apollo 13, and Avatar. James Horner’s music blended the hauntingly ethereal with the emotionally available, creating scores that brought me and millions of others movie and music fans to another level, and often another world.

The goal of the film composer is to walk the delicate line between serving the visual story and existing independently – between guiding an emotional journey and not being noticed. I can’t think of a single composer who mastered this line better than James Horner. I have loved every single film that he composed – and yet in every case, I discovered the soundtrack months, and more often years later. Yet the themes were there, latent in my subconscious, so that when I listened to these albums for the first time, it was with a sense of blissful familiarity.

There is one notable instance where James Horner failed in maintaining this balance – a failure that led to the creation of what I believe to be the most beautiful piece of music ever written. When composing the score for Avatar, James Horner wrote a piece called “Night Iridescence” (have a listen below; note how he introduces the simple theme in an ethereal Dorian mode, and how this same theme re-enters with incomparable beauty, driven by the soaring melody and accompanying chimes, at 1:53.

If you watch Avatar, however, you will notice that the aforementioned segment is not in the movie. The story goes that this piece of music was so good that it needed to be taken out of the film, and replaced with something less noticeable. “Night Iridescence” was distracting from the visuals of Avatar; quite an accomplishment, as Avatar pioneered the use of visual mastery never before seen on film. And yet James Horner’s music was more powerful. The piece was taken out of the film, and moved to the menu of the DVD instead. And of course, it is on the soundtrack, where even now, on probably my 1,000th listen, I still get chills.

The world of film and music will be different without James Horner, and all the scores he was yet to write. But I am so grateful for the hours upon hours of musical legacy that he has left behind, for the inspiration I have received from his music, and fpr the countless times that his work has brought me comfort and calm. I would like to say that in his memory I will be setting my Pandora station to him, but honestly, I already do that more days than not. So if you feel so inclined, I would urge you to do so yourself, and experience firsthand the beauty of James Horner’s music.

Rest in peace, James Horner – and thank you for your many, many gifts.

New Parody Video: “Clorox Urine Remover: Fake Infomercial (Real Product!)

October 18th, 2014

I’m thrilled to announce the release of my new parody about…well, it’s pretty self explanatory.

This video is probably one of the crazier things I’ve ever done (which, between you and me, is saying something), and was written, directed, and scored by me. It also marks my first collaboration with Felicia D’Ascanio, a phenomenal photographer who co-directed this sketch with me. I am thrilled to add her to the team, and hope this will be the first of many exciting collaborations in the future!

Speaking of which: I’ve just set up a donate button on the front page of, specifically to help fund these videos, which do take a whole lot of time and expense. The ideas are endless – the sky (and our budget’s) the only limit. So if you’d like to see more videos, please help us out! And of course, don’t forget to share this new video with all your friends, family, and those CIA agents disguised as your neighbors.

A City of Light – September 11, 2014

September 11th, 2014

In a city of light, two narrow white beams pierce the night sky above the southern skyline – just as thirteen years ago, two columns of black smoke darkened the most beautiful blue sky I have ever seen.

There is no other day in my life that I remember so vividly as September 11th, 2001. Not just images, but videos play over in my mind. It was my second week of high school when the world as I knew it changed.

In the weeks that followed, I saw things that I had never seen before. My father took me to the World Trade Center, where a pile of dirt and rubble had replaced the iconic towers that had always marked our trips to New York. I saw grief, anger, and confusion. But I saw something else as well.

I saw a truly united nation. As my friends and I held a car wash to help raise money for the United Way, I proudly waved an American flag along Lancaster Avenue in Wynnewood, Pennsylvania. The cars that passed rolled down their windows and cheered, and honked in triumph, in mourning, and in solidarity.

There were no Democrats. There were no Republicans. There were only Americans – and I was, and remain, so proud to be one of them.

Planes, Pains, and Minty Asphyxiation

August 25th, 2014

So here’s a fun horror story, presented to you by American Airlines:

Yesterday I was flying out of O’Hare Airport, on my way to Minnesota. I was on an American Airlines flight, but not really. It was one of those smaller airplanes that the major airlines use for flights where no one in their right minds would want to go. You know, like Minnesota.

Short of my model airplane hobby as a kid, this was the smallest plane I had ever seen. I was waiting for a dozen clowns to pop out of it. I literally could not have lay down horizontally on this plane (which eventually I would have been more than happy to do).

It all started at the gate, when the desk attendant told us to board the plane – or at least, that’s what I think she said. To quote, verbatim:

“Guf abdanun labesan gendle. We willnobordinz onen.”

Everyone looked at each other blankly. The attendant got annoyed, and repeated, loudly:


“Did you catch that?” I asked a friendly looking elderly woman.

“If that woman is speaking English,” she replied in a delightful British accent, “then I’m a Dutchman.”

Uncertainly, we boarded the plane, the desk attendant giving us the evil eye. As it turned out, we probably should have stayed put, because shortly after we got on board the pilot announced that the air conditioning unit was broken, and that the cabin pressurization wouldn’t work without it, causing us to – you know – die. They needed to call maintenance. “The pilot says it should be about fifteen or twenty minutes,” the flight attendant told us, adding that it was her first day.

An hour later, maintenance showed up. Now seems like a good time to mention that during this hour, I had accidentally swallowed a sour cream and onion potato chip whole, and it had caught in my throat. My throat hardened and inflamed painfully, and remained that way while we sat in an unairconditioned plane in 84 degree weather.

But I digress. Maintenance finally arrived, and accessed the problem via the seat in front of me. It turned out that the blame lay with a metal spring, which, over the course of events, had ceased being a spring and apotheosized into a long piece of flacid metal.

“How the hell have they been flying?” one of the maintenance guys asked the other.

Nothing like a touch of confidence.

Maintenance went away to look for a replacement spring, and didn’t come back or return calls for about an hour. Finally, the pilot managed to get a hold of them, and he filled us in on the good news:

“Well,” he started (this is never a good start), “maintenance went back to their warehouse, and unfortunately they don’t have a spare part. But they think they might be able to come up with another temporary fix.”

‘Duct tape?’ I wondered.

The pilot continued. “There aren’t any spare planes, unfortunately. There might be one coming in about an hour, but we’re not sure. I think this temporary fix is our best bet, but then again, I’ve been wrong about everything else.” I swear to God, he said this.

Now some of you might be wondering: “Shouldn’t they have let you off the plane while they dealt with all this?” I would encourage anyone who wondered this to please go apply for a job at American Airlines. They could use minds like yours.

So back came maintenance – this is now two hours after we boarded – equipped with the ultimate power tool: an iPhone. They snapped a picture of the problem and sent it back to their office, to get their opinion on whether or not this fix would actually work. Apparently they got a “yes,” or at least a “maybe,” because whatever it was, they did it.

The pilot came back into the loudspeaker. “The maintenance guys are just filling out some paperwork,” he said. (“We hereby deny all liability for the forthcoming flight, or for that matter that we are even certified maintenance men.”) And then came the big moment:

“Welcome to American Airlines,” they said. Which is what finally pissed me off. What kind of a host welcomes you two and a half hours after you get there? Manners cost nothing.

We got treated to the usual: the weather (hot); the air time (roughly one third of the time we’d already been on the plane); the safety lecture (the first time in my life I gave it my undivided attention).

And then, like a majestic bird, we…stayed put.

“Well,” said the pilot. “Another plane just landed and parked behind us, and now we can’t get out.


I used the additional time to text my mother what was going on. She totally flipped out, but I reassured her that there was probably only a 30% chance we’d asphyxiate.

And then, at last: we were off. And all seemed fine, until we reached our first cloud, and water started seeping through the ceiling, accompanied by an inexplicably minty smell. Fortunately, I love mint, and it struck me that it would probably be my first choice of odors to die to.

The flight attendant came rushing to fix the problem, bumping into all the seats on the way (it was her first day!). She carried a secret weapon: napkins!

‘Napkins?!’ I thought. ‘How about a parachute???’

But the rest of the trip went just fine, and I don’t appear to have suffered any lasting brain damageudnnsgsyxd. We landed in an airport with a grand total of two TSA guards, which is fine, because my feeling is that anyone who wants to blow up Minnesota is probably justified.

Hi Minnesota! It’s great to be back.

In Memory of Robin Williams… My First Hero

August 12th, 2014

When I was 11 years old and first discovered that I wanted to be an actor, there was one man I admired beyond any other. One man I wanted to be when I grew up. That man was Robin Williams.

Robin Williams as the adult Peter Pan in "Hook"

Robin Williams as the adult Peter Pan in “Hook”

Robin was my first hero. Aside from my closest friends and family, there was no one more consistently in my life than he was. Aladdin, Mrs. Doubtfire, Popeye, Jumanji, Hook…These movies weren’t just the happy foundation of my childhood. They were on constant repeat as I drank in the glorious talent, joy, wonder, and commitment of Robin Williams. In happy times, Robin’s movies were something to study, and emulate. And in troubled times, these same movies were places I could turn to for escape and elation. As I witnessed what Robin did for me, I made a very conscious decision that I wanted to do that same thing for other people. That same dream keeps me going to this day.

As I got older, I also got to know Robin through his standup comedy, which I was listening to just hours before I got the horrible news of Robin’s death. Robin is best known for his manic transitions in and out of characters and accents (something I began replicating at a very early age), but much of his comedy was extremely dark. But Robin was able to use this darkness, to put it out for display without shame or censorship, so that his struggles could become the world’s laughter. I am inspired that Robin Williams, like so many comedians, was able to use his pain and create something good out of it for millions upon millions of people around the world. But I am so very sad that this same pain became too much for him.

Depression is a disease. Robin’s may have taken his life by his own hand, but in reality he died of a disease that society just doesn’t take seriously until it is too late. But even so, there is more to this story.

Robin Williams’ wife just revealed that in addition to his substantial psychological struggles, Robin was also beginning to experience the symptoms of Parkinson’s disease – something he had not yet felt ready to share with the public.

Depression and addiction recovery are hard enough on their own…add on top of that a serious physical disease that is 100% guaranteed to get worse? The scenario strikes a deep chord with me, and I am profoundly sad.

I’m sad because I wish we lived in a universe where people’s mental and physical states were solely a reflection of their own acts and choices. I’m sad that a man who probably made more people laugh than anyone else who has ever lived was not allowed to be happy. I’m sad because of the cruel irony that a man who virtually never stopped moving would have been permanently stuck in a state of uncontrollable movement.

What an unimaginably difficult fate to live with…and though I wish with all my heart that Robin’s mind would have allowed him the hope to persevere, to become inspirational on an entirely new level – how could anyone possibly blame him for his choice?

I just wish that these weren’t the choices. More than anything, that’s what I wish.

I never got to meet Robin. My sadness is of course nothing compared to the friends and family who knew and loved him. But I’m sure going to miss him too. I think we all will.

Thank you, Robin – for changing my life, and for making this world a happier place to live in. It truly won’t be the same without you.


April 7th, 2013

Hi all! I’m very excited to announce the release of a new website,! We’ve put together all the behind-the-scenes info you could want on the film, including commentaries, cast and crew bios, press, behind-the-scenes photos, and much more! Be sure to check it out, and to send it on to anyone who craves more info on the project (cravings are common in food allergy land).

Enjoy, and happy spring!