This week has been brutal. There’s nothing happening. It got the point that Lucky and I actually had an extensive conversation about writing a piece entitled “Ten Things That Are Not Happening in Theater Right Now.”
And then, Wednesday morning happens and there’s this little article. And suddenly my day—my week—brightens considerably.
Sure, we all already knew about HBO’s “The Miraculous Year.” You know, the TV Pilot that launched a thousand Hunter Foster related jokes. The one filmed in New York City, set amidst the gritty, glittery world of Broadway.
Things sounded good when we heard Kathryn Bigelow was directing—who doesn’t love a girl who plays with the big boys? And then casting was announced, and things sounded even better. Frank Langella, Patti LuPone, Norbert-Leo Butz, Eddie Redmayne, Hope Davis and Stark Sands—those are names we theater lovers like to hear. Plus, just as a bonus, this guy named Adam Guettel is composing the music.
All good things, right? I mean, you can see why a theater-loving someone (like me, for example) might already be somewhat interested in this TV show.
But then, today, we get this:
[The Miraculous Year] opens in Terry’s townhouse, with the composer, who’s in his 40s, snorting lines of cocaine off a “Wicked” playbill. He’s trying to seduce a cute chorus boy with the coke and with verbal zingers aimed at shows he hates — “Les Misérables,” “Beauty and the Beast,” “Mamma Mia!” and “Jersey Boys.”
I’m sold. SOLD, I tell you! If you turned my wet dream into a TV show, this would be it. If HBO had announced a premiere date, I’d already be marking a daily countdown into my calendar. Alas, that’s news I’ll have to continue waiting for.
But, oh, HBO, I’m yours. You had me at “snorting lines of cocaine off a ‘Wicked’ playbill.”