Big Chrissy and I are in the Big Apple again. We arrived a few hours ago, dropped off our luggage and made our way to see Angela Lansbury, Rupert Everett, Christine Ebersole and Jayne Atkinson in the revival of Noël Coward’s Blithe Sprit at the Shubert. It was delightfully entertaining, with Angela Lansbury performing a pre-trance sort of egypto-jig that had the crowd roaring. Rupert Everett is still as intoxicatingly handsome as he was 30 years ago, and he looks exactly the same. At least from row “R.” The play’s queasy content—astral bigamy, murder, infidelity—are wittily folded into the farcical narrative and delivered for nothing but giggles.
New York stinks. It’s dirty and smelly and everybody wears black and smokes and I’m so happy to be here.