(I envy you everything you have seen. Well almost everything. No petty envy. You must have a whole corner of your brain full of wonderful theatre moments. And maybe a few duds.)
(My best theater moments are highlights of my full life. I’ve also put in a lot of time seeing things I can barely if at all recall attending. I recently culled my program collection and stared blankly at a lot of them.)
(Some distant day, GW, Imma go see a play by one of my favourite playwrights in NYC. If I do, Imma go all out—the best seats, the nicest hotel, a couple of lovely restaurants. But I resolutely refuse to contemplate what has to pass here to allow that to happen.)
The late, much-missed Spalding Gray was an *astonishing* Stage Manager. The critics at the time did to him what the British film critics did to Michael Powell after the shock of PEEPING TOM.
I can't know for sure, but I wonder whether what he was doing when the play was reviewed (I recall accusations of arch condescension) might have been vastly different from what he was doing by the time I saw him later in the run, which was lovely and earnest.
Okay, is there something in the water that some people are drinking?
A friend of mine just posted a link to this live broadcast of OUR TOWN from 1955, starring Frank Sinatra (the “singing” Stage Manager), Eva Marie Saint (who, btw, is still with us), and Paul Newman.
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Also, I bawled my g.d. eyes out.
A friend of mine just posted a link to this live broadcast of OUR TOWN from 1955, starring Frank Sinatra (the “singing” Stage Manager), Eva Marie Saint (who, btw, is still with us), and Paul Newman.