New B’way musical “Shucked” is delicious. Wholesome. No shooting, no filth, nudity, drugs, hate, stabbings. It’s about raising corn.
Alex Newell who must grab a Tony stops the show every performance. His song’s “Independently Owned.” Even opening night’s tough audience gave him a standing ovation.
Alabama parents. Boston educated. Male. Plays a female. About his sexuality, he’s also independently owned and operated: “I’m everything. No such thing as one thing. I’m not specific about pronouns. Years ago there was no specific terminology. No phraseology like ‘binary.’ No gender of queerness. I cannot say what I am.”
Done TV with Jennifer Holliday. Done “Ain’t Misbehavin’ ” and “Dreamgirls.”
Says: “All you have to fear is fear. Once I stood onstage frozen. Mortified. Voice gone. Listen, it happens. I kept going. I had to sell the number. And I got a standing ovation.
“Look, to be queer and black means no looking back. I have t—ts to my chin. Hair bigger than God’s. I walk with wigs. I know what I can do. I know my worth. I do what it takes to make it — but if my heart’s not in it I don’t give a f —k.”
Tight jeans, T-shirt, looong hair, creative dialogue. Newell’s private lifestyle? “I like a bar. I love dogs. I want to buy a Manhattan apartment. I have romances exclusively with men. Not live with one though. They tend to be dirty.”
He draws audiences like Faith Hill, Reba McEntire. He does not eat corn.
Nothing’s like it was. Writer Jim Fragale’s at West 80th Street Staples. Guy buying a printer. Salesperson: “How old’s your old one?” Customer: “Ten years.” Salesperson: “This one won’t last that long.”
More: Young guy. Asleep on the sidewalk. Right in front of a high-class Park Avenue building with an A-1 address. Doorman helping an elegant tenant to her chauffeured car stepped around him. Eventually EMS types got him.
Maybe we need more than a nice new commissioner.
Questions: How can America seat confirmed liar George Santos in Congress, America’s voice . . . How can America keep Biden, his son, brother, kin around despite sticky finance allegations . . . How can America have a DA and maybe Chief Judge who allow criminals to walk free . . . How can America print daily photos on the behinds and boobs of Lopez, Kardashians and that Ratajkowski who just poses and dates . . . How can America have TV spokespeople with ALWAYS a chorus of blank faces standing behind doing nothing, just nodding on cue?
The Friars Club, East 55th Street, once frequented by names like Frank Sinatra and Martin and Lewis, is now shut tighter than its accounting records. NEC Financial Services just added to its current lawsuits.
Once NYC’s great institution, destroyed by those who took it over out of ego and greed, they even lost their trademark. It’s tragic. Reporter Roger Friedman asks: How could it have become so ravaged?
Comedian Joey Adams’ “Here’s to the Friars: The Heart of Show Business” book reports them telling Milton Berle: “You’re the only MC we want. You’re the best. Nobody is as great as you.” Berle: “I can’t. I’m booked that night.” Friars: “OK. So who do you suggest?”
Only in New York, kids, only in New York.