NY Mirror

At the restaurant, Ekberg announced, 'I want to sit with my back to the wall. Who'll take the coats? I want proper water, if nothing else!'

Other divas have been acting up in dangerous ways, too. My spies tell me that during an interview for Paper magazine, Kevin Spacey kept pointedly talking about the gorgeous girlfriend he was calling on his cell phone. So that's what makes the Iceman cometh? Right?

Over at the Roxy, Sean P. Hayes, the funny (but not out) actor who plays the queeny one on Will & Grace, turned up with a female escort, no doubt to research the gay lifestyle. I bet he learned a thing or two.

But let's step out of this musty, dank closet— it's against the Constitution— and catch up with Roxy party promoter John Blair, who's been branching out with more merch than Winnie the Pooh. Blair has a new CD of dance music (he doesn't sing it, he presents it) and also a new Chelsea restaurant called JB, where you can stop on the way to getting a BJ. The night I dropped by, the decor, menu, and service were delightful— I got proper water and clean napkins— though the crowd was so uniformly muscley I was afraid there might be steroids in the food.

Where the hell is the light?: Anita Ekberg with Jean-Yves Thual at Primola
Patrick Mcmullan
Where the hell is the light?: Anita Ekberg with Jean-Yves Thual at Primola

I should have taken some fortification before seeing The Lonesome West, which is pretty much the male version of the same author's The Beauty Queen of Leenane. Both works have a pair of sadistic relations torturing each other, a crucial letter that's read aloud before being destroyed, and items thrown into an oven, after which one of the sadistic relations— who turns out to be completely cuckoo— tries to kill the other. Before this bloke writes another one, throw me in the oven.

Off-Broadway, one of my more beloved playwrights, John Guare, has come up with Lake Hollywood, an ambitious but failed snoozathon that doesn't have an oven (or a dwarf), but does feature a credenza, a carriage ride to a hospital, and a lake to oblivion. It doesn't quite add up— and I didn't quite stay up.

And I couldn't quite get it up for It Ain't Nothin' but the Blues, a bare-bones revue with virtually no book, staging, or set. (It's the fourth recent show I've seen that relies on slides, one of which announces "The Blues," in case you forget where you are.) A lot of the singing sizzles, but the all-purpose feeling, instructional tone, and severe lack of movement make this one better suited to high school auditoriums than Broadway. I'd tell you more, but I thought my work was over tonight! I am Anita Ekberg!

Michael Musto can be e-mailed at musto@villagevoice.com.

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