"God no! No, I have not watched it. I have way too much on my TiVo right now to even fit a new show. So yeah, that one has not made it on the list."—Lance Bass says he hasn't watched The A-List: New York. If he had, he would have gotten an early Christmas gift with a "song" we'll post on BillyMasters.com . It's just a little piece of heaven.
Prior to spending Thanksgiving with the family in Boston, I managed to sneak into NYC to see a number of shows which I will recommend to my readers who may be travelling over the holiday season. Lengthier reviews will appear on BillyMasters.com, but let me single out Charles Busch's uproarious The Divine Sister. What makes Busch a treasure is not how funny or clever or fabulous he is—it's the amount of heart he instills in his work. His writing is dripping with just as much genuine emotion as it is with brilliant moments of hysteria. And the fact that he's onstage with an extraordinary cast ( including his longtime muse, Julie Halston ) doesn't hurt. The show's run has been extended, so this should be your first stop if you're anywhere near NYC.
Then there's A Little Night Music, which I saw with Jake Gyllenhaal ( a story I've sworn to keep to myself ... for now ) . Some may quibble that Bernadette Peters lacks the innate aristocratic bearing of Catherine Zeta-Jones, but bear in mind that the character's mother is no longer being played by Angela Lansbury. She's now embodied by Elaine Stritch—a member of Swedish nobility by way of Detroit! Elaine appears to search high and low for some lines, but she never steps out of character. If nothing else, both Stritch and Peters are Sondheim scholars. The latter never lets us forget she's Bernadette Peters playing Desirée—from her trademark locks to her kewpie-doll line delivery, she's as distinctive as Stritchy. The role may not fit like a glove, but the sum outweighs the parts. It's probably one of the best casts you'll see—unless, like moi, you caught the London revival with Judi Dench and Siân Phillips back in 1995. Nothing tops that.
You'll recall I told you that Jake Gyllenhaal spends quite a bit of time naked in the flick Love and Other Drugs. What if I told you that you actually get to see his flaccid phallus in the flick? I wouldn't be so boorish as to suggest that you sit through the movie just to see it. Just head to BillyMasters.com .
The finale of Dancing With The Stars has renewed my faith in the American people. Alas, the premiere of Skating With The Stars made me turn on ABC. I wasn't alone. The next day, it was reported that ratings for this gem "dropped precipitously"—which means either no one was watching, or it started raining on Johnny Weir!
Cher made her long-awaited return to films in Burlesque. And how fabulous to see her looking so fetching clad in a creation by her longtime designer, the legendary Bob Mackie ( who whipped up a frock for the finale ) . While the reviews have been tepid at best, there was one rave—from Jane Fonda! "I was revved up because I was so looking forward to seeing Cher again on the big screen and she didn't disappoint. The two opening numbers were a knockout!" Of course, there was drama behind the scenes. Like many men my age, I had a little crush on Steve Antin from The Last American Virgin. A couple of decades later, the Antin family has made a bit of a name for themselves. Steve's sister, Robin, created the Pussycat Dolls, and his brother Jonathan owns Jonathan Salon and was the subject of the Bravo series Blow Out. How did Steve go from occasional actor to writer/director of a film starring Cher? Depends on who you ask—and how you connect the ex-boyfriends. Steve's most recent ex was Clint Culpepper, president of Screen Gems, who produced the flick. He reportedly gave Steve the opportunity to make a film. And how did Cher get involved? Another Antin ex is David Geffen, who also at one point dated Cher. He helped make the connection. While Cher was less than pleased with the final results, she had the opportunity to rewrite portions of the script and bring in her own editor to recut her scenes. Apparently things are currently less than picturesque between Antin and Culpepper—the Hollywood Reporter claims that Clint poured iced tea over Antin's pretty little head, "forcing him to recoil backwards into a rack of clothes." Now, THAT'S a movie I'd pay to see!
Since the holidays are coming up, it's time for Billy's Holiday Gift Giving Suggestions. This week's tip fits in with our column quite well. You may have recently seen Sondheim: The Birthday Concert on PBS. This historic evening celebrating the 80th birthday of Stephen Sondheim has been released on CD and DVD and features some of the luminaries mentioned in this very column. It's no surprise that one highlight was Patti LuPone singing "The Ladies Who Lunch" in front of Elaine Stritch—and pointedly asking, "Does anyone still wear ... a HAT?" But even better was Stritch singing "I'm Still Here" while Patti sat behind her mouthing every word. Priceless.
Our "Ask Billy" question comes from Devin in Orlando: "I know this is in bad taste, but I have such a crush on Joran Van Der Sloot. Do you have any shirtless pics of him?"
OK, that one is a little tasteless. I don't mind, but it is a little creepy. That said, it may be in even worse taste that I have nudes of Joran. Lord knows where they came from or who sent them to me—someone in a prison, perhaps. While I wouldn't suggest going on vacation with him, I'd certainly check him out on BillyMasters.com .
When I'm writing prose more appropriate for the 48 Hours Mystery, it's definitely time to end yet another column. This week, I'm writing you from south Florida, where I attended Care Resource's famed White Party, which was held, for the last time, at the Vizcaya mansion. What a splendid time I had, accompanied by my more and more significant other, Dan Renzi. More details and photos for all of these stories can be found on www.BillyMasters.com . If you've got a question or concern, feel free to write me at Billy@BillyMasters.com and I promise to get back to you before I break my promise to Jakey. So, until next time, remember, one man's filth is another man's bible.
