Smash Recap: The Ivy League

You guys! Listen, I’m sorry this recap is a little late, but here is the reason why: Last night, I almost met Stephen Sondheim. It’s true. We were in the same room; He was so close to me I could have reached out and touched His oyster-colored mock turtleneck; I was promised we would be introduced, but He was mysteriously whisked away at the last minute and it didn’t happen.

Honestly, it’s probably for the best. Owing to the vagaries of the service at Joe’s Pub, I was served my second martini well before they thought to bring my turkey club, and at that point, there’s no telling what I might have done. Might I have thrown myself weeping at His feet and/or His non-lapel, while whimpering about what He means to me? Told Him (while weeping) what I want for Christmas? I recently read an interview where He regretted not having had children; as such, might I have — God forbid — weepily and hideously suggestedStephen Sondheim impregnate me, in whatever fashion seems most amenable to Him? My point is, there is no possible scenario here that doesn’t involve weeping, and that you are currently hearing from (a still very slightly drunk) woman who could have met Stephen Sondheim, but instead had to content herself with babbling drunkenly at Meryl Streep’s daughters, Mamie and Grace Gummer, who are both lovely but as yet lack the laying-on-of-the-hands power I attribute mainly to their mother and the composer/lyricist of Anyone Can Whistle. Therefore, (a) I still have scrofula and (b) isn’t this all somehow kind of a perfect analogy for this show? I think so. Also, thank God Arthur Laurents is dead because that could have gotten ugly. Read More...


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