For us, this year, there is you and only you. Not even the pearly-pale light reflecting off of Matthew James Thomas’s charmingly freckled back could distract us from your amazingness in Pippin. Well, it did for a second, but then we came right back.
Forget Sister Act forever, please. Forget it ever happened. Because we are back in the just and comfortable corner of the universe (sky?) where you are starring — and we do mean starring — in a show that is worthy of you. Cold as ice and sinister as a snake, you are the urgently demented, moderately terrifying, estrogen-and-strychtnine-laden heartbeat of Diane Paulus’s incredible production. And the singing? As we have always said of you: When Patina Miller sings, forget it. Nobody else wins. There are no other nominees. There are no consolation prizes and no sympathy given. Top that, Cinderella.
We hope you win the real Tony, and we think you have a hell of a shot, but if you don’t,you win the Tony of our Hearts and Souls and Minds. And the Tony of Amazing Biceps, too.