Skip to main content

Tony Award Nominations

 The Tony Award nominations are a big deal in this house. Our recurring questions are:


*Where is Phillipa Soo?
*Where is Laura Linney?
*Gavin Creel? Alex Joseph Grayson, for "Parade"?

It's a truism that *roles* win awards; actors don't actually win awards. If you're in the shoes of a flashy, dynamic, volatile character, then you have a shot at the prize, even if you yourself aren't especially insightful. If that's the case, we should give a loud cheer for Julia Lester ("Into the Woods") and Ruthie Ann Miles ("Sweeney Todd"). These are roles (Little Red, Beggar Woman) that pop up periodically on Broadway, and before this year, they had *never* attracted "Tony" attention.

To me, the part of Kimberly Levaco is tailor-made for a Tony. Kimberly is dying, heroic, flawed, and capable of enormous growth, within a two-hour journey. It doesn't seem difficult to score awards with that kind of material--so it's especially delightful to point out that Victoria Clark just burns down the house every night. She knows what she has been given, and she holds your attention even when her mouth is shut. I will babysit for you, for free, if Clark loses to Annaleigh Ashford in June.

Have I been using my "tutoring minutes" to talk about Micaela Diamond with uninterested students this week? You bet. Happy nominations day, to all who celebrate!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

How to Host a Baby

-You have assumed responsibility for a mewling, puking ball of life, a yellow-lab pup. He will spit his half-digested kibble all over your shoes, all over your hard-cover edition of Jennifer Haigh's novel  Faith . He will eat your tables, your chairs, your "I {Heart] Montessori" magnet, placed too low on the fridge. When you try to watch Bette Davis in  Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte , on your TV, your dog will bark through the murder-prologue, for no apparent reason. He will whimper through Lena Dunham's  Girls , such that you have to rewind several times to catch every nuance of Andrew Rannells's ad-libbing--and, still, you'll have a nagging suspicion you've missed something. Your dog will poop on the kitchen floor, in the hallway, between the tiny bars of his crate. He'll announce his wakefulness at 5 AM, 2 AM, or while you and another human are mid-coitus. All this, and you get outside, and it's: "Don't let him pee on my tulips!" When...

The Death of Bergoglio

  It's frustrating for me to hear Bergoglio described as "the less awful pope"--because awful is still awful. I think I get fixated on ideas of purity, which can be juvenile, but putting that aside, here are some things that Bergoglio could have done and did not. (I'm quoting from a survivor of sexual abuse at the hands of the Church.) He could levy the harshest penalty, excommunication, against a dozen or more of the most egregious abuse enabling church officials. (He's done this to no enablers, or predators for that matter.) He could insist that every diocese and religious order turn over every record they have about suspected and known abusers to law enforcement. Francis could order every prelate on the planet to post on his diocesan website the names of every proven, admitted and credibly accused child molesting cleric. (Imagine how much safer children would be if police, prosecutors, parents and the public knew the identities of these potentially dangerous me...

Raymond Carver: "What's in Alaska?"

Outside, Mary held Jack's arm and walked with her head down. They moved slowly on the sidewalk. He listened to the scuffing sounds her shoes made. He heard the sharp and separate sound of a dog barking and above that a murmuring of very distant traffic.  She raised her head. "When we get home, Jack, I want to be fucked, talked to, diverted. Divert me, Jack. I need to be diverted tonight." She tightened her hold on his arm. He could feel the dampness in that shoe. He unlocked the door and flipped the light. "Come to bed," she said. "I'm coming," he said. He went to the kitchen and drank two glasses of water. He turned off the living-room light and felt his way along the wall into the bedroom. "Jack!" she yelled. "Jack!" "Jesus Christ, it's me!" he said. "I'm trying to get the light on." He found the lamp, and she sat up in bed. Her eyes were bright. He pulled the stem on the alarm and b...