Every day is opening night.


Ladies and gents,

I know I am dispatching this column in the midst of a very busy news cycle, but please turn your eyes away from CNN, MSNBC, or (heaven forbid) Fox News and give me your undivided attention for just a few minutes. I promise there isn’t a drop of fake news in the following account of Wednesday’s opening of Meteor Shower, and Mike Flynn will still be singing like a canary when you come to my signature sign off.

The current fashion on Broadway is to do away with red carpet arrivals altogether and try to make your opening as nonchalant as possible. The Broadway equivalent of a high school kid leaning against his car in the parking lot, trying to obscure the fact that his hormones are wreaking havoc on his innards and his head is throbbing with crushing anxiety. Well, I can strike a cool pose with the best of them, but boy was I happy that the producers of Meteor Shower broke with the trend, laying out a luxurious stretch of green astroturf posing cheekily as red carpet.

Among those who trod the turf? Well, let’s start with Steve Martin, who wrote the play, and Jerry Zaks, who directed it. Then came the cavalcade of guests: Goldie Hawn, Alex Brightman, LuAnn de Lesseps (née Countess), Marsha Mason, Paul Rudd, Martin Short, Victor Garber, Seth Meyers, Amber Tamblyn, SNL’s Vanessa Bayer, George Stephanopoulos and Ali Wentworth, Peter Asher, Zac Posen, and Kristine Nielsen (to name a few). Top brass from all three major theater owners were there, which I always think makes an opening feel that much chummier.

I was seated right down front with my friend Cindy Adams, and we both spent the entire time chortling so loudly we worried we’d distract the actors! The ensemble, featuring Amy Schumer, Kegan-Michael Key, Laura Benanti, and Jeremy Shamos, is the most exciting cast Broadway has seen in seasons. They were working like a finely tuned machine, wringing laugh after laugh out of us until we were left completely spent and satisfied.

After the show, I snuck downstairs and tried to look as nonchalant as the aforementioned high schooler, while the cast and creators assembled for photos and champagne (the French stuff, so you know the show is selling well).

Mr. Martin has officially conquered the theater world from coast-to-coast, as his tuner Bright Star was opening at San Francisco’s Curran on the very same night. (Which explains why Carole Shorenstein Hays wasn’t amongst the night’s glitterati here in NYC.)

I hitched a ride with Schumer and her manager, Carrie Byalick, to the after party at La Sirena at the Maritime Hotel.

They were all giggles, as bubbly as the (French) champagne they had sipped just moments before.

Tidbits from around towns…

Spotted David Letterman — still sporting that beard — at a Soho House screening of Call Me By Your Name.

Ran into Hillary Clinton’s right-hand, Grady Keefe, in Battery Park City, who confirmed that “The Secretary” loved Dear Evan Hansen.

Saw Chris Rock shopping for menswear at J. Crew’s Liquor Store on West Broadway.

As always, a toast of something sparkling to you and yours!


Scoop V.