Last night, I had the good fortune to attend the premiere of Noël Coward’s “Private Lives,” an intimate comedy in three acts. The performers were splendid and the staging inspired. After the show, my escort and I retired to a nearby tavern where we regaled the crowd with tales about the glory of theater.
OK, none of that really happened.
The truth is I got stuck having to go see a client perform in an original play called “I’ll Take My Love on the Side.” That title alone probably tells you everything you need to know, but I’ll share some more details just for fun.
I grew up in Chicago, so I’m one of those straight guys who actually loves the theater. And that’s why it saddens me when I’m forced to endure plays that are nothing more than mediocre, unproduced screenplays. “I’ll Take My Love on the Side” was a dull romantic comedy that might’ve worked better in the ’90s as a film with Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan.
To be clear, the choice of material wasn’t their only mistake. The next one was choosing a space that had no parking. This is a mortal sin in L.A., especially if you expect industry guests to show up. So, stuck with no
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