By Albert Samaha
By Steve Weinstein
By Devon Maloney
By Tessa Stuart
By Alison Flowers
By Albert Samaha
By Jesse Jarnow
By Eric Tsetsi
Most of the same drag queens turned up at Queen Bee (the Sunday night glamour orgy at Mother) to celebrate the sardonically sane Linda Simpson'svery own birthday, one that apparentlymade her so advanced in age that she was made to sit in a wheelchair during the show put on in her honor. Barbara Patterson Lloyd who Linda joked is an acquired taste ("like when you go to the Orient and they serve fried rat") did a frothily bonkers Fosse-inspired number and Misstress Formika rocked with a slutty rap song followed by a defiant Pat Benatar tune, during which she rolled Linda right off the stage.
I had just rolled over from a screening of Hilary and Jackie, which is not about a pair of cuckolded first ladies, but rather about a terminally ill cellist and her sister, whose hubby the cellist is desperate to duet with. Call it Shine with MS and an attitude. At the Le Cirque 2000 after-party, the film's producer, Alan Paterson, told me that when he saw Shine, "I thought, 'Oh, fuck! Is this going to help or hurt us?' " It ended up having no effect at all, but Breaking the Waves did; when Paterson saw thatone, he knew he had to get the charismatically quirky Emily Watsonto play the plucky cellist. He and his cohorts pitched Watson the story at a divey London restaurant and she started bawling, the men promptly following suit. "And we don't think of ourselves as weepy guys," Paterson told me. "We watch soccer games together!"
I sobbed on noticing that the brief but sweet same-sex couplings in last year's On the Town revival were chopped right out of the version that just made it to Broadway. What's more, while there's still some joy in this mixed bag of lyricism and shtick, a few parts that were great now just grate. On opening night, Mayor Giuliani introduced the show, and we nostalgically entered a world of cooch dancers and Times Square girlie shows and you thought irony was dead.
If you thought creepiness was a goner too, Glue magazine has been boasting that they've nabbed convicted killer Michael Alig to write articles for them and also shoot a fashion spread in prison (I guess that fab location access explains why they didn't hire O.J.or the Ramseys). Final thought: Don't fellate your horse unless there's real feeling there.