Monday Nathan Lane, Lewis J. Stadlen, Cady Huffman open in Lincoln Center’s production of “The Nance” A few hits ago, all three were in “The Producers.”
Cady: “We all know nothing ever can be as high and crazy as ‘The Producers.’ Not in our lives.
“None of us expect such success again. It was something special.
“Terrific is working with someone you know. Comforting. You know their style, how to work out kinks. I’m happy to be onstage with non-fear animal Nathan. He’s prepared. Focus is always present. Nothing rattles him. No chances taken.
“Back then, ‘The Producers’ was a kind of fantasy you could do so dastardly and wicked that they once almost ‘broke’ me. Just lift an eyebrow, and something crazy results, and me, I got caught in the middle.
“This play’s very different. Small cast. Characters current. Rooted in reality. I’m New York stripper Sylvia, Nathan’s antagonist. Opposite political views. He’s conservative, I’m the middle-aged Catholic no-nonsense communist feminist.
“It’s 1937, pre-World War II, post-World War I Depression time. Homosexuality’s illegal. Women just got the right to vote. My character’s passionate about issues of justice, workers-fair share, feeding your family.”
And where is her Tony?
Cady — the name came when at age 5 she spelled her name Catherine phonetically — says: “In the living room. But the cat chews it.
“I have four cats. My life is the most boring. Up at 7, take care of my four cats — one of whom chews this award like it’s a piece of candy. I do Pilates, yoga and have a trainer. I keep a strict metabolic diet — no gluten, alcohol, caffeine, dairy or red meat. It evens out the hormones, and I feel better.
“I go to work, and I’m very orderly. My ritual is first the makeup, warm up my voice, warm up my body and always in the theater two hours early. Then I take the subway home.
“And I got the role the old-fashioned way. I went to an audition.”
SUNDAY’s opening of Berry Gordy’s nearly three-hour “Motown: The Musical” at the Lunt & Fontanne might have a Top 10 audience.
Wanting seats are Diana Ross, Bon Jovi, the Clintons, and those Cuba visitors Beyoncé and Jay-Z . . . As an animal lover who loves everyone who loves their pets, I love “Charlie Girl: ‘Tails’ of a Very Original Poodle and Her Very Happy Life in the Town She Calls Home, New York City” — even though Elizabeth Frogel’s title is longer than her dog.
REPLACING the Ice Age, Stone Age, Jet Age is the Litigation Age. Next up, a lawsuit centering around the Sovereign, an East 58th luxury co-op that has known residents like Plácido Domingo, Mary Jo White, Calvin Klein, Sue Simmons and boasts goodies like concierge desk, valet service, private outdoor space.
Alan Kersh lives directly above Dr. Constantine. Unfriendly neighbors, locked in an ongoing noise dispute, chat betwixt them is not warm and fuzzy.
Both taking the same lift, one snapped to the other: “Take the next elevator.” Result? Shoving. The car’s mirror shattered. There were injuries. Cops came. One of them was taken in. And lawyers have signed on.
Hey, be it ever so humble . . .
WHAT stars do when they’re not starring: Jesse Eisenberg was browsing second floor of Whole Foods on East Houston . . . Back aways came an SOS for Annette Funicello’s memorabilia. I don’t know why, but a Hollywood writer wanted to buy, sell or trade for her music, autographs, letters, photos, magazines, records, clippings, cuticles, anything about Annette.
MARTY Richards was large in life.
Tonys for producing shows like “La Cage,” “Sweeney Todd.” An Oscar for films like “Chicago.” He and his late wife, Johnson and Johnson heiress Mary Lea, lived a four-star existence. River House duplex, Southampton mansion, parties. Marty helped every big-time charity and low-life chorine. Clive, Chita, Goldie, Michael Douglas, the world jammed his memorial.
That Edison Ballroom was once also starry. Like when it held Dick Cheney’s fund-raiser and Secret Service stationed outside metal detectors. Right smack over the subway’s iron grates. The detectors then wouldn’t work. And taught smartasses from DC they know BS about NY.
I APOLOGIZE for this one. Reader Mr. L.E. Shapiro, a quiet gentleman, phoned with: “Mike Bloomberg’s new job when he leaves office will . . .” again, I apologize for repeating this . . . “governor of MinneSODA.” Like I say, I’m sorry. Excuse me.
Only in New York, kids, only in New York.