THE GREATEST STAR OF ALL
| Norma Desmond’s star power may have faded, but the opening night guest list for Jamie Lloyd’s gasp-inducing new production of Sunset Blvd. was brilliantly brilliantly glamorous. I spotted Huma Abedin, Babyface, now infamous Jeff Bezos, Greg Berlanti, Betty Buckley, Kandi Burruss, Steve Carell, Jessica Chastain (fresh off her X – née Twitter – feud with JetBlue), Laverne Cox, Clive Davis, Jesse Tyler Ferguson, Ariana Huffington, Daniel Dae Kim, Michael Kors, Lin-Manuel Miranda, Brian Stokes Mitchell, Andrew Rannells, Shari Redstone, Al Roker, Jordan Roth, Brooke Shields, Todd Snyder, Jeremy O. Harris, Matthew Morrison, Alex Newell, Aaron Tveit, Michael Arden, LuAnn de Lesseps, Orfeh and Anna Wintour. There were so many more, but my column inches are limited. Andrew Lloyd Webber held tight onto his magnificent wife, Madeleine, as well-wishes mobbed him while producers Michael Harrison, Gavin Kalin and Adam Speers worked the room.
The real star of the evening, though, was Nicole Scherzinger, who turns herself inside out, revealing layer upon layer of Desmond’s delusion and desperation, vanity and vulnerability. It’s thrilling. It’s heartbreaking. It’s astonishingly unforgettable. She has already won the Olivier, and she might have reason to re-enforce her mantel. (Call me, Nicole — I have the most divine handyman.) Of course, a leading lady is only as good as her scene partners, and Lloyd has delivered a brilliant coterie of supporting players, including Tom Francis, who won a 2024 Oliver Award for his stunning and sexy turn as Joe Gillis. Grace Hodgett Young is an excellent Betty Schaefer and David Thaxton brings such dignified pathos to his Max von Mayerling. I first fell in love with Sunset Blvd. during its ultra-glamorous 1993 American premiere, at Los Angeles’ Shubert Theatre. I attended that opening night, which drew the likes of Barbra Streisand, Warren Beatty, Jack Nicholson, Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman, The Reagans, and real-life Norma Desmond Lana Turner. After the party, which was gloriously hosted on the Paramount Studios lot (and featured chicken pot pies, a favorite dish of star Glenn Close), I was standing at the valet stand waiting for my car, when I heard a pitch perfect, soto voce rendition of “The Greatest Star of All.” I turned around to see which cast member was standing behind me, and it was none other than Kirk Douglas. Seeing my look of shock, he said, “I’m so sorry! I can’t get it out of my head.” All these years later, neither can I. Tidbits from around town: Caught John Mellencamp arguing with the front desk of a hotel that shall not be named over a $60 surcharge for his early check-in. Overheard Calvin Klein asking a friend, “Does anyone actually find Greg Gutfeld funny?” The friend responded, “I’m not sure comedy is the point.” Spotted local TV heavy Lew Leone holding court at Michael’s over a lunch that included Audrey Puente, Linda Schmidt, and Mike Woods. Saw Broadway virgin Jack Antonoff in deep conversation with producer Greg Nobile and Broadway legend Paul Libin at The Palm before the fun opening night of Romeo & Juliet. As always, a toast of something sparkling to you and yours! Kisses,
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