Here in my little world we go to the theatre. We drink. We smoke. We eat. We take cabs and subways. We go to museums. The list is endless. In my world I review everything that happens to me on the day that I go to the theatre. Nothing is sacrosanct and everything is subject to my contempt or acclamation. Give me the hook or the ovation but remember it's my world and you're just living in it! Welcome to my world...

Sunday we charged tickets for Cyrano by calling The Roundabout directly. Oddly enough, they were unable to give seat locations over the phone. Undaunted, we were familiar with the size of The Laura Pels and thought we'd take our chances. We arrived at the theatre and the usher told us they were on the seventh row. We were excited to be so close to the stage but as we neared row "GG", we noticed two people in our seats. Stephanie asked them to please check their tickets. NEWSFLASH! We all had the same seats! I'm thinking, "Oh no! Guess who's getting one hell of a phone call?!" The ushers looked panic-stricken, but eventually put us in two seats closer to the stage. Now that's better, and no one gets a phone call. But still, that is a bit odd, don't you think? It gets better, can you guess what famous couple sat in front of us? The sweetest bird of youth and his wife, the three faces of Eve. That's right, Mr. and Mrs. Sockarooni Pasta Sauce themselves, Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward! We about had a stroke! I have to tell you, Paul Newman still looks damn fine! Remember when he was Brick, busting up Big Daddy's antiques in the cellar in Cat On a Hot Tin Roof? Or when he's being seduced by Geraldine Page in Sweet Bird of Youth? Or how about when Joanne pulls up in the convertible in The Fugitive Kind? Oh good lord, if you haven't seen these films, you must! I insist! OK, enough of that, let's talk Cyrano!

Frank Langella has adapted and directed Edmond Rostand's masterpiece of unrequited love, concisely and brilliantly. His streamlined script, sans superfluous subplots and dispensable puns, focusing solely on the triangular love story between Roxane and the two men who love her.

Frank Langella stars in the production as the title character, who's appendage of a nose hinders his proclamation of love for Roxane, portrayed splendidly by Allison Mackie. Cyrano pens the letters for the handsome fool, Christian, in order to win Roxane's heart. Beneath Roxane's balcony, cloaked in darkness, Cyrano impersonates Christian while declaring his ardor. Roxane's affections increase through his proclamations, while Christian becomes the vessel in which love is ostensibly manifest. Mr. Langella's powerhouse performance is heart breaking as the soldier/poet who credits his hideous countenance for keeping love at bay. Langella's interpretation of the role is Shakespearean in his delivery of soliloquies, and part Comedie Francaise, with such self-deprecating remarks as, "My protuberance that precedes me by a quarter of an hour." Mr. Langella's has fleshed out his Cyrano with humanity, eloquent alexandrine rhythmic verse and grace. He is truly a thespian of the highest rank. Miss Mackie's ethereal beauty, perfect diction and balletic carriage make her the consummate object of desire, Roxane. It is a delight to simply watch Miss Mackie ascend the stairs. She's divine! We saw the understudy, Marcus Chait, in the role of Christian. Though his "Chelsea Boy" haircut was rather distracting, his preformance was adequate.

Gil Wechsler's haunting lighting wonderfully assists James Noone's atmospheric sets as they gracefully transport the actors from battlefield to courtyard. Carrie Robbin's costumes blend beautifully into the background, allowing the audience to focus on the actors rather than frill.

Cyrano De Bergerac is an endearing story, eminently directed, and exquisitely acted. Fresh and captivating, it is not to be missed!

After the show we hopped a cab for my favourite East Village eatery, "Orologio." It's such a charming little snuggery where clocks adorn every niche. The menu is rather hit or miss, but if you stick to the pastas, you can't go wrong. My favourite dish is the "Bianchi E Neri," a sumptuous dish of black and white linguine in a spicy pink sauce. You can't beat their prices either, a bottle of wine and two pastas was only forty bucks, which includes all the warm homemade bread you can eat. The only sad thing about the place is that you can't smoke there anymore. But don't fret, it's fun to step outside with your glass of wine and watch East Village denizens while you enjoy a swag.

I bet you'll never guess where we went for our nightcap. You got it, "57/57." We gagged all the way up to Fifty-Seventh Street, as the stench of our cabby was suffocating. Freezing, we rolled the windows down to keep from vomiting. I'm thinking, "Damn, a little soap ain't gonna kill ya!" We breathed in deeply before entering The Four Seasons Hotel and gained our composure. Buffalo Man was there as usual, and came over and spoke to us. When we mentioned how everyone seemed to have suddenly left, he said, "Maybe they heard about your phone call." Touchè! We decided to bury the hatchet, and even Stephanie complimented his tie, which she knew was hideous. Mike Meyers was there with a few people a table across from us. We tried to send him a drink, but he was having coffee and was ready to leave. Remember in Austin Powers, the line, "Let me tell you a little story about Mr. Shhh!" That line was so damn funny!

After my obligatory French Martini we sang, danced, and I kicked boxes and cans all the way home. What a lovely evening we had!

In closing, if you're ever in the East Village, then you must stop in "Orologio" on Avenue A, between Tenth and Eleventh Streets. It's an easy name to remember, it's Italian for clock. Try the "Bianchi E Neri" and you won't be sorry. If you go to "57/57" then tell Buffalo Man I sent you, we're friends now. But don't tell him what I call him, his real name is Felix. Remember that cartoon? "Felix the cat, the wonderful, wonderful cat, whenever he gets in a fix, he reaches into his bag of tricks." I loved that old cartoon, it used to come on the Trooper Terry Show when I was a kid, but I digress. If you're in the mood for a great romantic tragedy, with powerful performances, in a ravishing production, then you must see Cyrano de Bergerac! Enthralling!

As I write this I'm enjoying one of the most delicious Beaujolais Nouveaus I've had in recent years. This one's by Georges Duboeuf, it has a light citrus bouquet and a clean delicate finish. A delightful and perfect wine for holiday gatherings. Speaking of which, I'd like to wish you all a very happy Thanksgiving!

See you next Thursday,

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