Last night Mike Gotch and I had free tickets to the premiere of Streetcar Named Desire on Broadway. We were really excited even though the show has gotten some lukewarm press, because we also had tickets to the opening night party which included a strong likelihood of free cocktails and mini-quiche, which I adore. I adore miniature foods! If I was ever executed and had to pick my last meal, I would choose an assortment of canapes and tapas and pig-in-a-blanket.
We actually seriously considered trying to sell these tickets to one of the desperate autograph hounds lurking around Studio 54 but we didn't really have time. Mike surmised that we could get at least a few hundred bucks for the tickets and the party passes and I think he was right, but we just felt too cheesy hocking tickets to pay our rent. Would have made a better story than the show, in retrospect.
So we go to the show and there's a whole line of press out in front of the theatre, waiting for the celebrities to arrive. I tried kind of ducking my head and pulling my collar up to make them think I was somebody but that didn't work at all. Those paparazzi didn't just get up yesterday, my friends! We found our seats and they were in the balcony, which should have been the first clue that the evening was going awry. The balconies of Broadway theatres are an absolute joke. The legroom is so non-existent you can't even cross your stems. If you're taller than 5'2" there is just no way you're leaving the theater without a limp.
And from the very first moment of the play, I knew it was going to be a turkey. Natasha Richardson as Blanche was just an abysmal choice, along with all of the rest of the casting. John C. Reilly (whom I love) just is not Stanley Kowalski. He's too sweet and gentle. He took all the sex and brutality out of Stanley, it's like he neutered him. And Blanche was just all nerves and stray energy. She couldn't even stand still when she was blocked to stand still. Amy Ryan, who played Stella, just never got there; I don't know what was going on with her. (She might have been high?) There was no honesty in the moments, no crafting of the scenes, everything was just this one-note, blecchy cliche. It's doubly a shame because it's just SUCH an amazing play. I think a big part of the problem was probably that the director (being British)had no concept of the American South and its culture. And I think that's just a teensy problem when you're directing Streetcar.
Which brings me to my rant. WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON WITH NEW YORK THEATRE!? Basically anyone who can be found on IMDB with more than two credits to their name can command the lead in a Broadway play regardless of talent, or appropriateness, or just...I don't know...a commitment to telling the frickin' story. It's so frustrating to sit there and watch a beautiful drama that is so stunningly written get massacred like that. And to know that there must be people sitting there kind soaking it in and assuming that this is what theatre should be; they're falling asleep (on both sides of me at least)and they're bored but they figure that's a flaw in them as an audience. Or maybe they secretly hate it and know it's schlock but they're there to ogle the famous. (see footnote for short list of famous people ogled by mike and me.)
And let me also say, if I had actually paid money to see this show I would have been enraged. The cost of a ticket to this play could buy a well for a village in Africa, or a side of beef, or a pair of socks at Dolce and Gabana. And all you come out with is cramped legs and a bad taste in your mouth.
Anyway, thanks for the tickets, Mike. It's not your bad. And I'm sorry I wimped out on going to the party with you. You know how I feel about the east side. And if someone chanced to ask me about the show, what would I have said? Something like - "They were all stars tonight."
*famous people
Phillip Seymour Hoffman (who didn't seem to recognize me after I met him on that elevator and had that awkward exchange with him. Odd!)
Liam Neeson (Well, duh. His wife was the star. I wonder if he thought it sucked as hard as I did?)
Gina Gershon (She is one sexy lesbian. Shorter than I thought. But then you always hear that, don't you? Tastes like chicken! Same sort of thing.)
Lynn Redgrave (apparently Natasha Richardson is herself a Redgrave. You learn something new every day.)
Eli Wallach (Old.)
John Slattery (Hot! but kind of old.)