Thursday, June 25, 2009

Every Little Step

Every Little Step is my new favorite movie in the whole world. It's a documentary about the casting of the revival of A Chorus Line, and I saw it today and fell madly in love with it. Fair warning...this probably won't be for you unless you are A. a mad fan of Chorus Line (which I am), or B. somebody who does theatre. It really is sort of for professionals, in that you see the whole audition process, from the first call to the final callbacks and casting...and of course you get the closing number (One) with all the sequins and top hats. I found it wonderful and fascinating and terrific...but it really is rather an in-crowd thing. As I say, I loved it to pieces, but then, this is my life.

Speaking of said life, I actually went to an audition this week (as opposed to getting up at 3:30 am and going to a movie set). It seems to be a play about an Iranian girl trying to marry somebody's American son - I think. (You don't get a script...just sides, which are merely the speech they want you to it's hard to tell what the hell the thing is about.) Anyway, I auditioned for the mother, who is a rather ghastly character, or at least the monologue of hers I read was. She was speaking to the Iranian girl and yammering on and on about how America's way was absolutely the best in the world, and all other nations should adopt our way of life. Talk about an acting job.

It's not, you understand, that I am not a nice patriotic American...I'm just somewhat more clear-headed (or so I fondly believe) about us. Certainly we don't do everything right, which was the burden of the lady's speech...and I hate, hate, hate this sort of jingoism. Oh, well. If I only went out for parts that reflected me I would A. never act again, and B. be a damned dull actress if I did. Being someone you're not is part of the game.

Anyway, after the audition I went and met an old, old pal for a drink (I mean an OLD damn near fifty years duration), which was enormous fun.

Other than that, I've done nothing all week except go to the movies today. I must say there's nothing like going to the movies in the middle of a weekday afternoon to make one feel deliciously illicit. I somehow feel like I'm cutting school. Given that my taste in movies is somewhat offbeat (I run a mile from anything that says big box office and/or all your favorite stars), I usually wait for them to come out on cable because I can never get anybody to see them with me (I know, I know, Netflix). There's something (to me, at least, but I may be oversensitive) weirdly creepy about going to the movies alone at night. There you are, and there's everyone around you with their dates. Actually, it's not only creepy, it's deeply depressing.

The weekend, however, is going to be one long party. Tomorrow night I shlep up to Riverside Church...which is, God help me, at 122nd Street and Riverside Drive, because my friend Caesar is doing a show...the things I do for my friends. Last summer I ended up in the Cloisters, for heaven's sake. Then Saturday I go to Astoria for my friend Margot's birthday...see "things I do for my friends," above. Luckily Margot is a girl after my own heart and always has this gathering in a beer hall.

And Sunday the whole Village will be roistering - it's Gay Pride Day! That's revving up right now...people are partying out on the pier and the neighborhood is filling up with people. So I'll go and watch the parade end over by Frankie's bar (well equipped with beer, God bless it) and dish on the drag queens and check out the wigs. Although I must say that I hope the parade is more fabulous this's been getting so damn political in recent years that some of the fun went out of it. However, with the new strides in gay marriage (of which I am entirely in favor), the mood should be more celebratory this year. More six foot drag queens in six inch heels, I say!

To bed, to bed...I have to go out and search for a belt tomorrow. I have a neat black sundress and some new gold flats, and I've been hunting all over the place for a gold belt, but so far no luck. Tomorrow I shall go to the East Village and look, and have those nice fried shrimp over on 4th Street...why not.

Love, Wendy

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