By Albert Samaha
By Steve Weinstein
By Devon Maloney
By Tessa Stuart
By Alison Flowers
By Albert Samaha
By Jesse Jarnow
By Eric Tsetsi
Less ebulliently: After the screening, Danson was overhead asking Bored to Death co-star Jenny Slate, "Are you back to work?" meaning on Saturday Night Live. Slate mumbled something noncommittal, probably horrified that he didn't know she got axed!
Another show about schlemiels in over their heads, IFC's The Increasingly Poor Decisions of Todd Margaret, had a premiere event two nights later, creator David Cross playing a doof who tries to sell energy drinks in the U.K. while sucking all the energy out of the continent. After the screening, an audience member asked Cross, "Your character's a liar, he kills animals, and he pees himself once a day. How do you sell that to a network?" Replied the comic, "There are four episodes out of the six where he doesn't piss himself!" "Two," chimed in co-writer Shaun Pye. He and Cross intently engaged in some cross-whispering, after which Pye said, "I stand corrected. But in one episode, he shits himself." "But that isn't out of nervousness or exhaustion, it's something else," explained Cross, defiantly. Got that distinction?
The Brits are very stiff-upper-lip and such in Broadway's retread of Brief Encounter, in which a married woman enjoys some guilty slap-and-tickle with a doctor as the wacky supporting players threaten to make the audience wet itself. I liked this way more than the similar film-to-stage deconstruction of The 39 Steps. That one's gags seemed a tad too desperate and the cast was so-so (it's overacting!), whereas this romp goes for witty jokes, clever stagecraft, and charmingly interwoven Noël Coward songs. Whether that all makes sense layered onto a tragic love story that's pretty much done straight is a whole other story.
And, finally, I had a brief encounter with modeling at the Christopher Lee Sauve show of T-shirts featuring embellished icons like Lindsay, Jesus, and Anna Wintour. But being the new Naomi wasn't all rock-hard glamour. While I was primping backstage, another model—gogo boy Matthew Camp—sidled up and informed me that he finds practically everything sexy except scat. He then grew strangely silent, so I came up with the best comeback ever: "Scat got your tongue?"
I'll remember it next time I have raw sex with an ex-con.