Girls, It Is Time To Talk About Miracles!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Darlings, who knew I would be, but I was on the aisle again last night. This time, I was viewing the just opened Broadway revival, "The Miracle Worker," which Mr. Closest Case himself, Ben Brantley, had the temerity to pan, but several of my illustrious coworkers saw it--no closet cases or theater morons, they--and thought it was terrific.

Now, girls, ever since viewing the apocryphal movie at 13, I have always been drawn to "The Miracle Worker" as both an actor and director. I would love to act in it, and wouldn't I be just brilliant as Helen Keller???? I mean, an actor loves challenges, and with this role I would have them all- a gay middle aged man, playing a sprited child, who is physically encumbered. Just think what Meryl (as Annie) and I could do with this, loves? It would be ELECTRIC theater.

However, the Misses Abagail Breslin and Allison Pill were no less electric as Helen and Annie, and hats off to them and the rest of the cast. The trouble with the show rests with production designer Derek McLaine, who made the moronic decision to suspend the furniture above the stage, above the actors, on wires, bringing it down only when needed, then back up again. I mean, wires? What about actor safety in the theater. This is in the round, darlings, meaning if something should fall, not only the actors, but some seated down front could be injured, even killed. Duh, McLaine, how dare you physically jeopardize your cast and undercut Gibson's play.

But once the actors are doing their thing--and allowed to--this goes out the window, and "The Miracle Worker" becomes the dramatic classic it always was. I saw a production of it two years ago at Paper Mill, and let me say if only the TWO productions could have been combined, because then you would have PERFECTION. THIS one is better directed and acted, but THAT one, on a proscenium, was better staged.
But all the right moments and responses are obtained here, which means it works. Now, if only someone would anchor that goddamn furniture.

At least my Oscar gown arrived on time, girls. It is shocking pink, like the borders of this blog, with pearls to match. Just perfect for me, and I don't believe Meryl has ever worn pink, so there should be no problem. Thank you Oscar, even if it took you this long to get it here. I am going to look so ravishing I may have to stay on a bit in Hollywood, so who knows?

Back to "The Miracle Worker" for a second. I hope before she died someone signed into Helen Keller's hands what VOGUE is, because being, blind, deaf and dumb is no excuse for poor fashion sense. I think Helen knew how to put herself together--she went on to become a renowned lecturer, but I don't know if Annie taught her her designers as assiduoulsly as she did her alphabet. As for me, I know my alpahabet,loves, but let me tell you, if "The Miracle Worker" had been MY story it would have been the miracle of Annie Sullivan finding me a husband, which is the Helen Kelleresque challenge I face every day of my life. Wait till I tell my therapist a thing or two on my next session on Tuesday.

But it is Oscar weekend, girls, so go out there, catch a husand, have a drink, and watch Meryl get her third Oscar tomorrow. Look for me on the red carpet, darlings, I will sure to wave to all my girls!

Toodles, loves~!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!