Broadway Baby Says Goodnight...

Sad hearts on the Rialto tonight, kids, and no mistake about that.  One of the ever-fewer number of truly Great Dames has up and left us.  Dammit.

Perfect Relationships

Something about this just feels right for today.  I don't know about you, but I'm feeling a tad sentimental, and really very proud of Our President.  Oh, I know - took long enough, and all that, but what's said is said, and here we are.

Of course, the Mr. and I do have a stake in this, as what keeps us overseas, at least in part, is that we have no choice.  We are a family (as they sing in sitcom-season-promotional specials), and it's nice to think that yesterday we moved one step more toward having that recognized.

Everybody Rise!

In honor of the opening today of perhaps the least-anticipated (and certainly, as it stands, least necessary) film of recent years, The Women, I thought we might enjoy seeing Miss Luce's epic of love, loss, and laughter in Gotham high society reduced to its most primal themes, courtesy of Mr. Sondheim.

I won't lie to you: Elaine Stritch frightens me. I've seen her perform this half-a-dozen times, at various benefits, galas, and dos around town back in my palmy days, and every time (a) she nailed it as completely as she does here and (b) she did something different with it.

That ain't easy, kids; not any easier than playing angry, scared, drunk, and vulnerable when you are very likely one or more them at any given time...

Leg Show: Golden Years

I don't know about you, but I like it when ladies of a certain age flash a little gam.

My grandmother would always, of certain of her acquaintances, observe "well, yes, she looks fine - but she's lost her ankles!" and then flash a demure glance down at her own dainty feet.

Marlene, of course, kept hers insured by Lloyds of London, and had them prominently on display when pitching Blackglama:


And it makes sense that a hoofer like Chita Rivera would keep hers in fine trim:

Elaine Stritch's trademark outfit seems designed to highlight her legs (in what I have long thought is the most calculatedly casual ensemble ever seen on stage):

I have to say it came as something of a surprise to find Mrs. Hart indulging in a bit of what Hollywood starlets once referred to as "Drape Art," but she carries it off:

It's even a pan-gender phenomenon, which in this case, at least, is a very good thing:

Those knees aren't getting older - they're getting better!