As citizens of the nation continue through the summer, distracting themselves by howling at the moon and one another, I spent this past weekend in Manhattan seeing revivals of two classic period pieces of American theater.
The pluses are lots of zingy one-liners and an insider's wink and a nod to Broadway glamour. If Neil Simon were gay and from a comfortable suburban Jewish family, he could have written Secrets of the Trade.
The challenge is to create a single look that tells the audience in a very brief glance who the Marie Claire woman is. I can tell you in one sentence: A woman who cannot find Vogue, Elle, InStyle, or Glamour at the newsstand.
The new 90 minute format means I will have to summarize in places to keep from staying up all night -- my stamina, which has been eroding on a par with Mickey Rourke's face since Season 6, is no match for a Supersized ProjRun).
If Matthew Marsden is really honored to hang out with anti-gay, religious-right hate mongers -- and that's who he flew halfway across the country to be with in private -- then he should do it in the light of day.