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in the spotlight~new york update


Volume 15/Issue 16




New York Update

by Brian Sands

I thought I could beat the heat of New Orleans by going up to New York City for a week in July. Silly me. I managed to get there just in time for the first heat wave of the summer while Hurricane Danny brought the temperature down a bit here. Oh well. There are still lots of cool things to do in NYC.

For now, the place to go is g, where the crowd is actually (gasp!) friendly. On a recent Saturday night, smiles abounded, the attitude level was fairly low, and the music flourished but at a volume that still allowed you to have a conversation-or start one with any of the many cute men there. Located at 223 W. 19 Street, g features tasteful but not over-powering decor, charming bartenders, places to sit and a food counter in the rear.

I left g around midnight and made it to Twilo at 530 W. 27 Street just before my pass expired at 12:30 am. (Anything that can save you twenty bucks in New York is a good thing.) Taking over the Sound Factory's old space, Twilo reigns as THE big dance club of the moment and by 1:00 am it was packed. Within the hour, though, I had tired of big chests connected to empty heads, bored-looking go-go dancers and especially the steady boom- boom-boom dance music that seems best enjoyed on some psychochemical high.

Leaving Twilo, I returned to g and had no sooner walked in the door when I saw some familiar N'awlins faces (you know who you are). We proceeded to cut up in our best Bourbon Street style and discovered that NYC girls wanna have fun just like their sistahs in the South. Kudos to owner/manager Jimmy for creating such a cool atmosphere.

Friends took me to La Nueva Escuelita (301 W. 39 St.) for the drag show on Friday night at 1:00 am. If you like classic pretty drag with a Hispanic accent, this is the place to be. I'll not soon forget the finale-how often do you see four statuesque girls wearing drop dead gowns making moves in perfect synchronization? If you're not into drag, but still like salsa, meringue and other types of Latin music (and Latin boys), take at least one class at La Nueva Escuelita (The New Little School). If you misbehave (or get lucky), the dick dancers may whack you with their impressive billy clubs.

Thursday night's heat and humidity seemed to be keeping many at home-or had they already decamped for the Pines? Spike, Eagle and Break were all pretty dead. New-on-the-scene Twirl (208 W. 23 St.) was empty, though the lovely young lady at the register assured me this was unusual. I hope so-it's a cool place with beds, sofas and computers scattered around and deserves a chance. (I heard it was much livelier on the following nights.) Gold, on Monday nights there, features Louisiana's own Varla Jean Merman as one of the Golden Girls.

Miss Mona Foote, the reigning drag queen at Barracuda (275 W. 22 St.), had just finished her Star Search contest when I arrived (bitch), but it looked like fun. Only Splash (50 W. 17 St.) was packed as usual. Warren and Bubbles, in town for the weekend (was anyone left in the Big Easy?), had earlier seen Nathan Lane there. Puff puff.

Speaking of theater (thanks Nate for the segue), though the season just ended was noticeably short on pizazz, a few triumphs emerged. Leading the list, and recently extended until August 31, is Ibsen's A Doll's House. Janet McTeer as Nora and Owen Teale, as her husband who would keep her in her cage, bring such immediacy to their roles that you might think this is a contemporary drama rather than a revival of an 1879 play. Frank McGuinness' crisp translation and Anthony Page's astute direction keep you enthralled until Nora's celebrated slam of the door at play's end.

To say that Gross Indecency: The Three Trials of Oscar Wilde is the most gripping new play of the season would probably cause Oscar to retort, "Yes, but what was there to grip about?" Rather, this would have been the most gripping new play of any season in recent memory. Using original trial transcripts, newspaper accounts, letters, biographies and, of course, Wilde's own copious writings, Moises Kaufman has fashioned a thrillingly entertaining courtroom drama, social commentary, comedy of high and low manners, aesthetic critique and morality play.

Set, costumes and, especially, Betsy Adams' superb lighting all enhance Kaufman's theatrical realization of his material. The entire cast does a fine job, with Michael Emerson, as the poet/playwright/wit, brilliantly limning Wilde's fierce intelligence and the stubborn pride which led to his downfall.

I wish I could be more enthusiastic about Paula Vogel's How I Learned to Drive which garnered numerous year-end awards for its sensitive exploration of pedophilia. Yet despite an exemplary production, it left me with a feeling of "been there, seen that" either by way of TV/movies or just what goes on all too often in our own backyard.

Cy Coleman's The Life wants to be a hard-edged view of 42nd Street in the 1980's, but it evokes instead the aura of an unproduced 1950's musical about hookers with hearts of gold. Though Lillias White and Chuck Cooper deserved their Tony Awards, The Life manages the dubious achievement of making Showgirls look like cutting-edge art.

For art, cutting-edge and otherwise, a trip to the Metropolitan Museum is always revivifying. Along with its ever-rotating permanent collection, small exhibits of Klee graphics and Hopper watercolors are currently on view. Fans of Gross Indecency should visit the Ivan Albright exhibition which brings you face to face with the original painting used in the 1940's movie version of The Picture of Dorian Gray. Though said to be an avuncular gentleman, Albright took years to paint his luminously creepy portraits. After Albright, go up to the sculpture garden for some fresh air, cocktails and wonderful Central Park vistas.

A few blocks from the Met, the Whitney Museum is now featuring a huge Keith Haring retrospective with paintings, videos, writings, etc. A Rockwell Kent show reveals his talents as a painter, as well as his better known woodcuts-look for some very (intentionally?) homoerotic works here. Drawing on its permanent collection, the Whitney imported a curator from London's Tate Gallery to group paintings around several broad themes. I particularly liked the "Cityscapes" and "Death and Glamour" sections with powerful canvases from Cadmus, Hopper, Warhol, Lichtenstein and other twentieth century giants of American art.

In connection with the Haring exhibition, over a dozen of his large metal sculptures are now being displayed along Park Ave. (what we'd call the "neutral ground") between 57th & 74th Sts. Frolicsome and whimsical, they bring color and vivacity to an otherwise uptight area. Keith would've approved.

Keith would also have approved of the new gallery scene in the 500 block of W. 22nd St. (Between 10th & 11th Aves.). If you're into avant-garde, "what-does-it-all-mean?" kind of art, this is where it's at. Of course, some of it is of the "my-five-year-old-kid-brother-could-do-that" variety, but I'll let you be the judge of that.

It was not easy judging the eighth annual Bastille (sun)Day Marie Antoinette Costume and Talent Contest, and Sybil Bruncheon wisely declared it a tie between Chiquita, who wowed the audience with her live rendition of the aria from "La Wally" made famous in the movie Diva, and Mona Foote, who wowed the audience with her lip-synched rendition of Let em Eat Pussy. The contest, with outfits designed by Isaac Mizrahi and Betsy Johnson among others, was the finale to a day-long block party in the Meat Market district that also served to benefit an organization that helps homeless PWAs.

And as the rabble mixed with the Bourgeoisie mixed with the aristocrats under a clear, starry sky, it was the perfect finale to a week in New York.

A few blocks from the Met, the Whitney Museum is now featuring a huge Keith Haring retrospective with paintings, videos, writings, etc. A Rockwell Kent show reveals his talents as a painter, as well as his better known woodcuts-look for some very (intentionally?) homoerotic works here. Drawing on its permanent collection, the Whitney imported a curator from London's Tate Gallery to group paintings around several broad themes. I particularly liked the "Cityscapes" and "Death and Glamour" sections with powerful canvases from Cadmus, Hopper, Warhol, Lichtenstein and other twentieth century giants of American art.

In connection with the Haring exhibition, over a dozen of his large metal sculptures are now being displayed along Park Avenue (what we'd call the neutral ground) between 57th and 74th Streets. Frolicsome and whim-sical, they bring color and vivacity to an otherwise uptight area. Keith would've approved.

Keith would also have approved of the new gallery scene in the 500 block of West 22nd Street (between 10th and llth Avenues). If you're into avant-garde, "what-does-it-all-mean?" kind of art, this is where it's at. Of course, some of it is of the "my-five-year-old-kid-brother-could-do-that" variety, but I'll let you be the judge of that.

It was not easy judging the eighth annual Bastille (sun)Day Marie Antoinette Costume and Talent Contest, and Sybil Bruncheon wisely declared it a tie between Chiquita, who wowed the audience with her live rendition of the aria from La Wally made famous in the movie Diva, and Mona Foote, who wowed the audience with her lip-synched rendition of "Let'em Eat Pussy." The contest, with outfits designed by Isaac Mizrahi and Betsy Johnson among others, was the finale to a day-long block party in the Meat Market district that also served to benefit an organization that helps homeless PWAS.

And as the rabble mixed with the bourgeoisie mixed with the aristo-crats under a clear, starry sky, it was the perfect finale to a week in New York.

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