This blog originally posted on March 25, 2009. I was able to see Jeremy Irons live in his performance of Impressionism (I would go on to see that play three times. Loved it, though the critics did not.) I met him at the after-party and he gave me the (then single-girl) thrill of a hug.
I went to the opening of Impressionism last night. In reading the reviews this morning, they are not as good as I thought they would be.
“Set in Manhattan, Impressionism is the story of a world traveling photojournalist and a New York gallery owner who discover each other and also that there might be an art to repairing broken lives.“
The traveling photojournalist, Thomas Buckle, was played by Jeremy Irons. He was very comfortable in his role and made his character believable. A man who has traveled to Africa and watched as a young boy died shortly after photographing him. How desperately he wanted to save the boy, how devastating that he could not.
The NY gallery owner, Katharine Keenan, was played by
Joan Allen. This character was an uppity New Yorker, set in her ways and beliefs. It seems that everything for her has to be black or white which is ironic as she loves a genre of art that involves the blending of pastels. I liked the portrayal, but I cannot say I was a huge fan.
The show was good. It lacked the in your face Broadway that is often seen. It was a sweet show, a sweet thought and a wonderful ending. I LOVED the transitions between acts. The stage screen would drop along with faux frames that electronically housed various paintings of the Impressionist era. This was visually stunning and, I thought, well done.
So, you ask, what is with the title of this blog? Well, let me tell you…
I have a wonderful client, Ms. Jamie deRoy who is a Broadway producer. She has been very kind to me over the years I have worked with her and has given me entry to some wonderful opening nights and spectacular performances. The tickets for this performance were given to me by Jamie. I was also privy to the celebrity cocktail party that took place after the performance. Within the crowd was Rupert Everett (love him), John Lithgow, Marsha Mason, Joan Allen and Jeremy Irons. It was quite interesting to walk among these people and those people who work tirelessly to bring these shows to fruition.
I am a huge Jeremy Irons fan. So this play meant a lot to me. At the after party, I watched as his handlers dealt with where he needed to be, his agent walked him to meet people who were important to the show, pausing for photos along the way with fans…then the waters sort of parted and for a brief moment he was standing alone. I walked up to him and said, “I do not want a picture or anything like that, all I want is a hug”. He looked at me with smiling eyes and said, “Of course”. Those of you who know me know that I love younger men. I would make very few exceptions to that rule. Mr. Irons is definitely one of those exceptions…lol He stepped in to hug me, but not one of those four feet of space between the bodies and a quick pat pat pat on the back back back. He put his arms around me and did something sexy – you know when a man hugs you and the four fingers of each hand caresses your spine and the thumbs kind of come around your waist. Yeah, that. He pulled me in and tight and whispered in my ear, “Is this what you wanted.” The British accent was more than I could bear. However, bold as I was, I whispered, “As a matter of fact, this is just what the doctor ordered, thank you.” And without realizing I inhaled in a way that was audible and he squeezed me a little more before letting go. There were nice pleasantries exchanged and he looked to my friend and said, “You friend gives a great hug.”
Then the evening was over. And I was smiling. I think I really need to win the lottery because I would so make a life of this kind of thing…..
Thank you, Mr. Irons, for giving me my jollies and making me feel quite warm and fuzzy. Kudos.
Categories: Theater - Literature - Language