Those Beautiful Girls

James Goldman wrote my favourite play, The Lion In Winter.

Stephen Sondheim has written many of my favourite musicals, many of my favourite songs, one of my favourite movies and, generally, created a lifetime of work that just feels like breathing to me.

That's a good place to start. Now.

Alexis Smith caught my attention as a teenager. She acted in some movies with my boyhood idol, Errol Flynn. She played Mrs Hallet in the film version of one of my favourite books, THE LITTLE GIRL WHO LIVES DOWN THE LANE. She captivates in another favourite of mine, HERE COMES THE GROOM, almost stealing the film away from Bing Crosby and Jane Wyman. And when I saw her on BROADWAY PLAYS WASHINGTON singing Nothing But from PLATINUM--well, it closed the deal, for me. Pat has called her 'one of Stephen's ladies'.

Lee Remick was my favourite actress. She remains on my list of favourites and always will. Her performance in ANATOMY OF A MURDER continues to leave me breathless, as do most of her films--including the ones I am (only now) getting around to seeing; films like THE RUNNING MAN, LOOT and NO WAY TO TREAT A LADY. I am sad that I will never see her performance in THE OMEN but I cannot watch devil related films. A photo of Lee Remick hangs in my home office.

Diana Rigg was, first, Mrs Peel. I imagine that Mrs Peel is a first for every teenage boy from certain generations past. Those teenage boys either have sexual fantasies about Mrs Peel or fantasies about being Mrs Peel but Mrs Peel is listed as their first. After Mrs Peel, for me, came ON HER MAJESTY'S SECRET SERVICE, EVIL UNDER THE SUN and a host of films made for the large and small screens. We own a box set of THE AVENGERS that is dedicated to the Mrs Peel episodes.

Dee Hoty is one of the Broadway stage's great leading ladies. A statuesque beauty with talent to match, she has warmed hearts in lead roles in WILL ROGERS FOLLIES, THE BEST LITTLE WHOREHOUSE GOES PUBLIC, FOOTLOOSE and MAMA MIA, all the while being gorgeous and alluring, especially in CITY OF ANGELS. She is as lovely a person offstage as she is exciting a performer, onstage. Dee Hoty is never spoken of in my home, that we do not sigh and smile.

Blythe Danner is a great American actress. She has been given numerous awards for her work, throughout her career. She has worked (non stop) onstage, in the movies and on television, all the while raising a family (that includes an award winning actress in the form of daughter, Gwyneth Paltrow). Blythe is also one of the most beautiful and loving women a person could ever hope to meet. She is also one of my household's beloved ladies.

These women have all played a character named Phyllis Rogers Stone in important productions of the musical FOLLIES. FOLLIES has a book written by James Goldman. FOLLIES has a score written by Stephen Sondheim. FOLLIES has a cult following that is nothing short of a phenomenon. Mr Sondheim, himself, has said that the original run of FOLLIES was not really what one would consider a success (especially when one considers the seven Tony Awards the production earned). Whether or not FOLLIES was a success, the fact remains that it is a show that continues to ensnare musical theater lovers in its grasp and hold them, merciless, as each of them...each of US...becomes obsessed by the story, the songs and the fascinating legend of its ever-changing tapestry.

For years no one produced the play FOLLIES. Then, in the Eighties, the very first concert version of a musical was produced (starting a new trend, indeed, a new format in musical theater that has snowballed into something that is by rote, now) and that concert was FOLLIES. It had an all star cast, was recorded for cd, filmed for PBS and released on video. It remains one of the most exciting and revered events in New York theater going history.

A revival of FOLLIES was produced on Broadway in 2001. It sparked much opinion and much debate about whether or not it was any good. It didn't really matter because people still went to the play.

Between the two Broadway productions was a London production that featured new musical numbers and many script changes and there was a Los Angeles concert version that hoped to mirror the success of the New York concert version. There appears, in fact, to be a different script for every version of FOLLIES--and there have been many versions in the regional theaters of America. I don't know about all of them but I have heard tell of many of them, starring people like Donna McKechnie, Juliet Prowse, Karen Morrow, Shani Wallace, Marilyn Maye... the list is endless.

FOLLIES has been the subject of much discussion in New York recently because ANOTHER concert version was just produced. When it was announced, I was a bit shocked and surprised. I mean, really, ANOTHER production of FOLLIES? Another CONCERT of FOLLIES? I didn't get it. I didn't care either because I was going to go, for very personal reasons. You see, I have a connection to this character in the play--this woman named Phyllis Rogers Stone. It isn't that I, so much, identify with her or anything like that. I suppose there are women with whom I identify--I know there are--in life and in fiction. And this is a fascinating character, with incredible musical numbers. Playing her got Alexis Smith a Tony award and Blythe Danner a Tony nomination. Yes. That's the connection. Phyllis Rogers Stone has been played, repeatedly, by women I happen to adore. Alexis Smith was the original Phyllis. Lee Remick did the concert version. Diana Rigg played her on London's West End. Dee Hoty starred in the production at PaperMill Playhouse. Blythe Danner brought her to life for the revival. Even the L.A. concert version featured Patty Duke (who I love) as Phyllis and there are famed regional productions that starred Juliet Prowse, who I adored and miss, terribly. For some reason, the universe just keeps sending women I love into that place where Phyllis Rogers Stone lives. It's sort of like Mama Rose. Every few years the GYPSY fanatics get to watch another great lady of the American musical theater experience that journey. I only get to experience them on cd or on dvd (whether pro shot, like the concert, or bootlegged--but we don't talk about that). I saw Dee Hoty as Phyllis and I saw Blythe Danner.

I did NOT get to see the last version of Phyllis Rogers Stone that New York saw. How ironic that it was created by one of my best friends, eh?

I was in Texas for my parents' fiftieth wedding anniversary when she stepped out onto the stage of City Center in her black, one shouldered evening gown. I missed her in her red fringe Lucy and Jessie dress. I had to read on Broadway chat boards about how stunning she was. It was heartsickening but my parents' event simply HAD to take precedence over seeing my beloved girlfriend play Phyllis Stone. Thanks to the internet, though, I got to see snippets of her thrilling work in FOLLIES. My girlfriend, the genius.

Donna Murphy.

I won't talk about Donna's personal life. I respect her and our friendship too much to invade her privacy that way. I can only say that being able to call her my friend, knowing that my favourite person believes in me and that my favourite artist champions my work has given me strength and lit the way in dark moments. The mere fact that she trusts me with the happy task of doing regular family portraits for her is a major part of my self esteem. She is a buoy in this life, for me. This was not, though, the first time that I missed her in a performance. It will, clearly, not be the last. But whatcha gonna do? There are concerts and benefits and appearances and performances and I travel and won't always be there for those performances. She knows where I live and she knows where she lives for me: in my heart.

But the clips on the internet! Have MERCY! She is a goddess. And she is a woman. I like to watch the goddess but I like to talk to the woman.

Recently, I have been working on the Florence Klotz estate. I have mentioned this in recent stories. Florence was (for me) the greatest costumer of the American theater of the last century. Don't get me wrong--I also love William Ivey Long: he's Da Bomb. But Flossie was special. She won Tony awards for A LITTLE NIGHT MUSIC, KISS OF THE SPIDERWOMAN, SHOWBOAT, GRIND, PACIFIC OVERTURES and, natch, FOLLIES. I have been cataloguing and photographing her sketches and her Tonys. Can you think of anyone better suited for this job? (It should be noted that the other people working on this project are show biz historian and author Ken Bloom and musical theater expert David Schmittou. Can you think of anyone better to be working on this project with me? I don't think so.) I have been living with her Tony award for A LITTLE NIGHT MUSIC on my telephone table for three months. Her sisters came to live with us a few weeks ago so that I could photograph each Tony with sketches from the show for which the Tony was awarded (I might post some of the photos, if the interest in seeing them is great enough). Soon, the sketches and the Tonys will be distributed to museums in the area and I will have to bid them farewell. For the time being, though, I am living with FOLLIES.

Phyllis Rogers Stone and the women who have played her have been a part of my personality's patchwork quilt for awhile and they will all continue to be, just as misters Goldman and Sondheim do and will. I am more than happy to be a home where they can congregate together, especially given the earth shattering genius and beauty of the latest Phyllis.

She is (and I am) in great company.

please note that I found the photos of the Phyllises on the internet but was unable to find one of Dee Hoty in the actual role, only a red carpet snapshot; or one of Lee Remick, only the headshot used in the Follies cd booklet (a tragedy because both were STUNNING in their Phyllis drag). The photo of the Lucy/Jessie sketch with the FOLLIES Tony was shot three days ago in my studio.

Duality Sucks

Occasionally this happens.

I wrote a piece today for my blog on MySpace. I have gotten adamant insistences that I get it to a wider audience. I think it's a nice story but, to me, it is just one of my stories. When there is adamant insistence from outside sources, though, I guess I am missing something.

So here, for the good folks who read my Blogger blog, is the story from the wee small hours of this morning.

Duality Sucks

I was recently compelled by a couple of friends to join Connexion. It is a MySpace-like community for gay men. I never joined Friendster and it was like pulling teeth to get me to join MySpace; but, clearly, once I joined MySpace, I dove right in, right? So I joined Connexion. I haven't dove right in, there, because I am so scared of gay men. They intimidate me, so.

I feel like Faye Dunaway--my sister, my daughter, my sister my daughter, my sister my daughter.

I love them. I hate them. I love them. I hate them.

I like boys. Men. That is. I enjoy their company, their conversation; I like looking at them and I like kissing them. But there is something about the behaviour of gay men that makes me so uncomfortable, so angry, so bored and tired. But I am one of them and I exhibit this behaviour, too. Not all the time. It comes out of me, in varying degrees and on certain levels, when I am not looking. The funny thing is, it is summed up, almost entirely, by the opening sentence of the pilot episode of my favourite tv show, Queer As Folk.

What you have to know is that it's all about sex.

That's what Hal Sparks' voiceover says to the watcher. And that's the truest statement I can think of. It is all about sex. Whether or not we (as men AND as gay men) are actively thinking about sex, it is always there, like the elephant in the room. That cliche about men thinking about sex every X seconds (the number changes every time I hear the statistic) is pretty darn true--but it's not just that we think about having sex every X seconds: we just think about the entity of sex. Maybe we think about having sex. Maybe we think about the fact that someone, somewhere, is having sex. Maybe we think about someone with whom we would like to have sex. Mayve we think about whether or not someone is watching us and thinking they would like to have sex with us. The exact break down of the thought is unimportant. The fact that sex is the nova inside every (gay) male's being is undeniable.

It's all about sex.

Even the gay men who want to be heterosexuals, who want to be homogenized and living in the burbs with the picket fence and the two cocker spaniels and the house and wardrobe that is muted tones of greys and browns have the underlying thread of sex running through their minds because no matter how much they TRY to be men of substance, reading Jane Austen and picketing for Gay Marriage, adopting children and cuddling in front of the fire, they have to be aware that the reason they must work so hard at having what the world would consider a normal (quotes please) life is because they have sex with men. They aren't thinking about copulating but they know their fornication preference is a part of what defines them.

Who we want to fuck DEFINES us. It is that simple.

And I love that about gay men. I love that our sex lives are such a big factor of who we are.
I also hate it.

I am an intelligent and intellectual individual. Modesty usually prevents me from saying this. I admit it. I play the dumb card far too often because it is easier to get by in this society if you don't have the responsibility, the expectation, of being smart. I have an IQ in the triple digits. I crave stimulation of the mind and conversational banter that goes beyond 'that man over there is so fine'. I read books with a pen in my hand and I argue philosophies of art and humanity with those of my friends who understand that debate does not equal conflict. I quest for spiritual enlightenment and a healthy physical being.

But I go to the gym so that I can look hot and attract that guy I have been obsessing over for the last ten days since I, first, laid eyes on him.

I do not deny that my intellectual side is, instinctively, overridden by the male domination of sexual appetite. It's almost like, the lower you go on my body, the more powerful the emotion: the head is always trumped by the heart and the heart is always bumped by the groin. It's like a freakin divining rod! It is who I am and it is who I hate. No. I don't hate myself. I hate being a foregone conclusion. I hate being a stereotype. I hate not being able to control it. I hate being one of the mass.

But I love being one of the mass.

But I hate being one of the mass.

My sister, my daughter, my sister, my daughter, my sister, my daughter...

There are men at my gym that I love. Yes. I love them. I don't even know their Goddamn names but they walk by me and I say (not even completely) under my breath "I love you...." But then I look at my body and think of how much I want to look like they do and I turn to Pat and say "I hate him."

My sister, my daughter, my sister, my daughter, my sister, my daughter...

I spout the ideals of intelligent conversation and inner substance but the moment I am in a crowd where I am the pretty, the sexy, the witty one, that little dog-door opens up and the sexual inuendo designed to shock comes pouring out.

My sister, my daughter, my sister, my daughter, my sister, my daughter...

I have been surfing the profiles on Connexion. Almost seventy percent of them have a default photo (of the member) in which his shirt is off and the rippling muscles are showing. I make the noise that goes ECH and my lip sneers up on the left side. How base. Then I click on the photos of the guys that are hot.

My sister, my daughter, my sister, my daughter, my sister, my daughter...

Once inside the hot guys' profiles, I find that almost all of their photos are of them in a state of undress. ECH. Gay men are so base. Click.

My sister, my daughter, my sister, my daughter, my sister, my daughter...

I look at my own MySpace profile pic and see, not a face or a personality, but a BICEP. Shit, yeah. I worked hard for that mutha, you think I ain't gonna show it off? Because we ALL use what we can to get what we want and until I have tits like that boy I have been obsessing over, a bicep shot will have to do. I may not be actively thinking about having sex but I know that when a guy looks at my default pic, he (at least) thinks (if even momentarily) about what it would be like to have sex with me. I don't like that I am this way -- in fact it bugs the shit out of me -- but I can't change it. So I will just have to suffer over my difficulties with duality until I become a more evolved human being. Dammit.

Now if you will excuse me, I have to go read my boxed volume of Proust before going to help out at the soup kitchen.

In my tank top and torn jeans.

please note that the photo of me (that I call 'rock star ste') was done by Derik Klein

Oh, Grow Up

How did your childhood idol break their personal mold so that they could be considered an adult? To break away from the Mary Ellen Walton image, Judy Norton Taylor posed for Playboy. A lot of young actresses used playboy to get the public to forget that they were, once, children. Brooke Shields didn't have to because she was never a child. Starting out in the movie PRETTY BABY and then moving to the provocative Calvin Klein jeans ads, getting people to buy her as a child was never a problem--though getting people to accept her as a serious actress was. Jodie Foster was fourteen when she played a teenage hooker in TAXI DRIVER and just to make sure that the childhood mold was broken, she played a sexually active teenage killer in THE LITTLE GIRL WHO LIVES DOWN THE LANE that same year. Ricky Schroder didn't do anything drastic--he simply changed his name to Rick and took ONLY serious parts (though he did pose in an artistic nude for a legitimate magazine doing an article on "what's sexy now"). Christopher Atkins DID pose nude for Playgirl and his career foundered anyway.

Show business is filled with young people who decide, early in their lives, that performing is the way to go; and we have certainly all heard the stories about how difficult it is to be a child actor and the ramifications that it can cause later in life (Patty Duke is one of the most vocal artists about this occurance.) The stories of huge failure are numerous (and always being featured in stories on the E! Network): DIFF'RENT STROKES kids have become one of popular culture's most oft pointed at examples. There are the scandals (Alfalfa Switzer was murdered), the troubled (Danny Bonaduce jokes about "going to jail a LOT"), the embittered (Jay North has spoken openly about the downfalls from his life as a child actor but has turned it into something positive, counseling young actors in their careers), the bad choices (Elizabeth Berkley in SHOWGIRLS) and the ones who just walked away (Kristi McNichol says she "just got tired of acting").

Then there were the ones who just, succesfully, transitioned to being accepted as adult actors.

Mario Lopez, Kirsten Dunst, Melissa Gilbert, Susan Dey, Elinor Donahue, Mark-Paul Gosselar, Kim Fields, Thora Birch, Jamie Bell..... Christian Bale played Patrick Bateman AND Batman. Oh, and a boy from the tv show GROWING PAINS has been nominated for the Academy Award for the third time, this year: Leonardo DiCaprio. Just like my favourite actress, Diane Lane, who was a nominee in 2002 for UNFAITHFUL. And Opie Taylor won and Oscar for directing BEAUTIFUL MIND.

It IS possible for a succesful child actor to become a succesful adult actor, in spite of the worlds' view of them as being forever young. It IS possible for a succesful child actor to be considered a grown up without making a sex tape or going to rehab to prove that they are, in fact, no longer twelve.

So why, on January 30th, did EVERY news program lead with the story of the furor over Daniel Radcliffe's shocking photos for the West End production of EQUUS? It was on the cover of newspapers and on the AOL bulletins. I am sure it was covered in many places I didn't see. Everywhere I turned, that day, it was the hot topic. Chatterati on websites, everywhere, had to weigh in on Harry Potters nude pics. People think it is appalling. People think it is sexy. People are speculating about what kind of message this sends his young fans. People are criticizing his pale skin, his body hair, his body, his morals, his ethics... You name it, people must discuss it. I know we are a race of closed minded know it alls and judgemental puritans but I just think there must be something more important to focus our attentions on, rather than an actor taking a job that requires him to nude. And the nudity isn't gratuitous! EQUUS is a serious play, a work of art that has been produced on Broadway, filmed by Hollywood and presented in theaters around the world since its Broadway debut in 1974. The story is a serious one and the acting must be first rate. The boy who has been criticized for being "only ok" in the Harry Potter movies (and if I may weigh in, I think he is a beautiful actor--always honest, and you know how much I love THAT) has been chosen to perform in a piece that demands true acting talent. He is the most famous child actor in the world--oh, wait. He isn't a child anymore. According to IMDB he will be 18 in July. By the time I turned 18 most of my friends had begun engaging in sexual congress (including myself) and all of them had seen naked men and women in books, magazines and movies. This boy, this man, though, has chosen to be seen naked FOR HIS ART and he won't be seen naked by observers of his art (alone); he will be seen naked by stupid, insipid, childish fans who flock to the theater just to see Harry Potter naked.

I was in London when Kathleen Turner opened in THE GRADUATE. The lines for tickets were around the block. The thing is--most of us had already seen Kathleen naked in films like BODY HEAT. What was the big deal? And in the London production, she was lit, straight on--not backlight like on Broadway. People are so obsessed with seeing other people (especially famous people) naked. I get it but I don't get it. It's one of those things I wrestle with. I suppose it is because I have seen SO many naked people--in front of my camera. I photograph nudes often. It's a body. It's beautiful. God created these bodies for us. I think it is a wonderful work of art; AND there are those who make it more of a work of art by taking care of it, by making their bodies look like the bodies we, so, admire in the artwork seen in museums (and other places). So Daniel Radcliffe has chosen to blend his two artworks for one glorious purpose: EQUUS. And his body is a work of art. Look at the photos. It is a work in progress but it is beautiful. This is not the opinion of some lascivious perv: it is the opinion of a photographer who must light the human body to accentuate the muscle tone. It is, also, the opinion of a gay male obsessed with his own body image, who diets and excercises to look like a porn model and who beats himself up when a binge keeps him from that appearance.

Some of the online chatters have been nasty about Daniel's palid skin. I think it's beautiful, clear, white skin that will probably not have any cancerous growths because he MUST keep out of the sun (without sunscreen!). Others have criticized his hirsute-ness. Well, all I can say about that is: whatever. I think people are just judgemental and mean.

My bottom line is this: good for Daniel for being a man, for being an artist, for growing up through his art and not humiliating himself in public (I think it is much more effective to retain the respect of others by appearing nude in an artistic play, rather than having your brazilian waxed vagina all over the internet like Britney Spears and Paris Hilton). He isn't falling in the street cause of drugs and alcohol and he hasn't been seen online in a home made sex tape. He has his dignity and his integrity and, soon, he will probably have an Olivier Award.