I’ve spent last week in London theaters. I saw “Matilda,” the kids show, which is heading to us. The Irving Berlin takeoff “Top Hat” I wouldn’t doff my fedora for, although the audience was happy. But, listen, Brits eat mince pies and never fix their teeth — so what do they know?
I went for the opening of “The Bodyguard” at the Adelphi. The theater’s co-owned by Andrew Lloyd Webber and James Nederlander. His Lordship owns eight on the West End. Our lordship owns 12 just on Broadway. The show’s terrific. A blockbuster.
The idea began five years ago. Original writer Lawrence Kasdan thought Warners’ 1992 movie becoming a legit musical couldn’t be done. Its first screenplay, rejected 67 times, took 14 years and a dozen incarnations to reach the screen. His original idea in his head included Steve McQueen as the hero. Heroine? Streisand. Both said no.
Back in ’81, young actor Kevin Costner craved the film role of bodyguard Frank Farmer. Kasdan replied: “Great. First become a star.”
Eleven years later, he had. To play the maybe Madonna, Diana Ross, Janet Jackson, Dolly Parton role, Kevin knew he wanted Whitney Houston. We know her “I Will Always Love You” in her first-ever movie made cinema history.
Now, even those not in Hollywood understand how babies are made. Not everyone understands how an infant creation on its way to an SRO box office is made. Here’s its history. The anatomy of a Broadway hit:
London’s production stars Tony winner Heather Headley (the original Nala in “The Lion King”) and Shakespearean actor Lloyd Owen. It received a cheering standing ovation and A-1 reviews. In the audience — flown over, housed, fed, heard — James Nederlander’s top warriors — wife Charlene, son Jimmy Jr., exec Nick Scandalios plus etc., etc.
Its future was sealed, the deal was made. After a London run, when time’s right and the proper Nederlander theater’s available, it will open on Broadway.
Remember, when it arrives, you heard it here first. It’s a smash.
MORE London. Besides lousy weather, the city’s differences include shopping. Harvey Nichols, a super Saks-type department store, empty. Possibly that’s why no need for a “CSI” hunt to unearth some snarling New York-style salesperson. English ones are helpful, available, eager to assist.
ANOTHER difference? Food. Although we’re not talking Le Cirque, theirs has turned acceptable. New Yorkers, going for dinner, maybe ask a friend, “Feel like eating Swedish?” Or, “How about we have Turkish?” Nobody, not one single body, ever suggests: “Whaddaya say we order British?”
ALREADY having made Oscar’s short list are Alex Gibney’s doc “Mea Maxima Culpa: Silence in the House of God” on the ’50s sexual abuse in a Milwaukee Catholic school for the deaf. And my previously mentioned “The Gatekeepers” about Shin Bet, Israel’s secret service, on their successes and failures to maintain security. Two nonsectarian documentaries.
OHHHH, that recent tiresome “exclusive” released that Anna Wintour may become ambassador to London or Paris. Ohhhh, please, many many moons ago — back when she first got tired and when Vogue still craved her and before Obama’s fund-raisers did — I reported that . . . It’s a long way from Stanislavski but Helen Hunt, who adores being naked and Doing It in “The Sessions,” says: “I love discussing orgasms.” OK?
NURSES quitting, doctors lessening, hospitals closing, medical care soaring, Sandy’s horror creating problems for the elderly. To help provide care, HBO plans to stage free screenings of “Nurse Jackie.”
’TIS the season: Rule 1: To control your eating, do not snack before a party. The whole point of a holiday fiesta is to eat other people’s food for free.
Rule 2. Go heavy on eggnog. So what it’s 1,000 calories per sip. It’s the only time of year you get the thing.
Rule 3. The reason for gravy is to use it. Make a volcano of your mashed potatoes. Pour on gravy. Eat. Repeat.
Rule 4. If mashed potatoes are made with skimmed milk, avoid. That’s like buying a sports car with an automatic transmission.
Rule 5. Position yourself at the frosted Santa-shaped Xmas cookies. Do not budge. Inhale as many as possible before becoming obvious. Like a beautiful pair of shoes, leave them behind and you never see them again.
Rule 6. If you see carrot sticks, leave immediately. Go next door, where they’re serving hot chocolate.
Rule 7. At all cost, ignore fruitcake. Only a Grinch serves it. Fruitcake is mandatory — but, please, have some standards.
Rule 8. Under no circumstances, exercise. This starts in January, when you’ve nothing else to do. December’s for long naps, desperately needed after circling the buffet schlepping 10-pound plates of food plus that eggnog vat.
How to survive the waistline, only in New York, kids, only in New York.