Kevin Kline, having survived a stint with Miss Patti LuPuone and more than two decades as Mr. Phoebe Cates, appears, alas, not to be (as Frank Rich dubbed him) "the American Olivier" when it comes to a shall-we-say fluid private life. Pity, given how promising this very mid-eighties lavender ensemble would seem to be. Whatever the reality, he's long had a piece of my fantasy-heart, whether in modes heartbreaking (Sophie's Choice) or immortally ridiculous (A Fish Called Wanda).
It's hard to credit that he's 65 today, but many happy returns all the same.
Oh, and remember my ongoing follicular crisis? At the moment, this is more or less the overall effect I'm rocking, grooming-wise. I only wish the general effect were even fractionally as successful...
Kevin and I no longer speak, and he knows why. Needles to say I was the best thing that could have ever happened to him had his security team not dragged me kicking and screaming from his bedroom.
ReplyDeleteOh, the 80's and 90's dreams that were launched by my golden boy. From his first moments onstage in Pirates of Penzance, I was lost. He reached up to the rear mezzanine of the Minskoff, picked me out from all the others in my HS English class, and stole my very heart. Completely his.
ReplyDeleteWalked near him for much of an AIDS Walk in NYC a decade or so ago. He was as charming and affable as one could hope.
I still swoon.
Mr Kline's finest moment, in my opinion
ReplyDelete"Like the drip, drip drip of the rain drops
When the summer showers through
A voice within me keeps repeating
You, you, you"
Jx