Sunday, June 15, 2008

She is the Greatest Star of the Musical Theatre on the Planet


Her name is Patti LuPone and she is now a two-time Tony winner.
Love you, Patti.

Congratulations!!
Yes, I cried. I've waited to see her win another Tony for as long as I can remember.

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5 comments:

Zev Valancy said...

Okay, I was gonna wait until tonight to get into this argument, but you've forced my hand.

Her performance on the Tonys was terrible--she had pitch issues, no rhythmic spontaneity, the words were almost indistinguishable, and her acting looked over-rehearsed and bloodless at best. It was like she was choosing her gestures from a book, and had planned in advance on what beat she would make what hand-wave. Any sense of the meaning behind them? Missing.

If THAT was representative of her performance every night at the St. James, her winning a Tony was an absolute travesty.

And the self-regard in her speech, the clear sense that she felt that she was OWED this Tony, with repeated references to the 29 years it had been since she last won one, was just nauseating. Be a little gracious!

So basically, Leonard, I love you, but you are wrong wrong wrong.

See, I can hyperbole too!

Leonard Jacobs said...

Would you like a laxative for all that crap?

Zev Valancy said...

Well, her performance made me vomit, so I'm not sure I can afford a laxative as well. One must think of one's poor digestive tract.

Then again, August's wins, and particularly Tracy Letts' highly-appreciated honesty and Anna's absolutely gorgeous speech, more than made up for it

Leonard Jacobs said...

I'm not gonna dis Chicago pride, but Tracy's speech was obnoxious.

Zev Valancy said...

I think it's necessary for someone to mention the rareness of new American plays on Broadway--August was the only one in the category, after all. He was a bit smug, perhaps, but hey, he just won a Tony. (Plus, his new sow starts previews Thursday, so he's probably pretty tired.)

In the category of speeches, by the way, I have decided after some mulling that I loved Mark Rylance's dada prose poem. On national television, no less.