Despite erratic sound, the 63rd Tony Awards, hosted by Neil Patrick Harris, were, to me, a huge hit – everything that an awards show should be, but rarely is, and by that I mean gay, gayer, and gayest. Harris, charming and cute as a button (if said button were to wear a faux-leather black tuxedo) was the obvious highlight from brilliant beginning to the effortless end – the ad-lib 11:03 P.M. closing number so funny – but there were other moments too. The national treasure that is Liza Minnelli, a genuinely moved and moving Angela Lansbury, eloquent Frank Langella, the wondrous Jerry Herman, the fabulous Harvey Fierstein, Hair, and the three Billy Elliot’s – David Alvarez, Kiril Kulish, and Trent Kowalik. Billy Elliot won ten Tony Awards and God of Carnage won three.
A more memorable moment: Poison lead singer and Rock of Love reality oddity Bret Michaels himself head banged.
Adam Lambert, looking a little like Butch Patrick, aka Eddie Munster, attended Sunday evening’s Young Hollywood Awards, but, for the moment, remains closeted. The tension, I know, is killing all of us.
The Clay Aiken and Adam Lambert saga meanwhile, took a new and awkward turn when it was reported that certain fans of Aiken had manufactured a story that I posted a link to last week, about Adam’s new found diva deportment, and yet I suspect that source in question is one lone scary stalker.
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