"Soon upon us is the brisk Brit documentary “Tea With the Dames” a.k.a. “Nothing Like a Dame.” Veddy English. Over a cuppa, Eileen Atkins, Judi Dench, Joan Plowright, Maggie Smith chat up their lives, showbiz, theater pains in the arse and wicked memories from days in the pram till now.
All four dames are real dames. DBEs. Dame Commanders of the Order of the British Empire.
Four legends. Oscars, Emmys, Tonys, BAFTAs. Also friends. Director Roger Michell (“Notting Hill,” “My Cousin Rachel”) knew all knew one another and put them together for a weekend somewhere wherever there’s grass over there and under a mike and facing a camera and let them loose. Delicious talk from sex to age.
Atkins, born in Clapton, reared in Tottenham, mum a dressmaker, dad an electric- meter reader. Dench, born 1934 in Heworth, North Riding of Yorkshire, followed brother Jeff into the Royal Central School of Speech and Drama.
Plowright, born 1929 in Brigg, North Lincolnshire. Dad edited the local newspaper, mother was in the amateur dramatic society. Smith even planet Mars knows for the Harry Potter things and as “Downton Abbey’s” dowager countess.
Dame Judi remembers when she couldn’t remember her speech. Dame Maggie remembers how “Sir Laurence Olivier’s eyelashes hit me, and I was more nervous than the critics.”
The IFC Film opens in theaters Sept. 21.
A few things that Simon said
Neil Simon lived next door to me. A genius at great one-liners, he was a friend to my comedian husband and me.
One one-liner he told me was: “As a poor kid, I dreamed of seeing every single home baseball game ever held. When I became rich, my team moved away.”
Another: “Enough already with Broadway revivals. We need some things that are new and fresh.”
“All geniuses sweat to attain greatness. Dickens, Simon . . . I’d like maybe to rewrite ‘The Odd Couple’ someday, but I won’t touch other plays. The difference in today’s creative process is that now there’s more sexual freedom.”
“At the theater the other day, I asked the lady in front, ‘Miss, can you please remove your hat?’ And she said, ‘It’s no hat.’ ”
Aretha Franklin, Robin Leach, Sen. McCain, Neil Simon . . . It’s been a bad couple of weeks.
Weight for it
I reported that Paul Manafort, formerly located around the White House, had gained weight. Manafortians replied I’m stupid, and svelte Mr. Manafort lost weight. OK, with his problems, I now don’t care if he’s thinneth as Gwyneth and I’m a fatterhead than his defenders.
Tony diet
Speaking of weight, Denise Gough, who was just in “Angels in America”: “Tony Awards night starts early with last-minute rehearsals, then it’s readying for the red carpet, then the show, then the finale at 11:30, then scurrying to a party for leftover last-minute Ritz crackers. The world’s best diet is Tonys night.”
Horsing around
Polo. High-class hockey on horseback, with horses costing more than hookers, was in Greenwich, Conn. George Venizelos, a broker (who else, right?), took me. Each player has six ponies. None dare poop on the field. Attendees have to use off-the-turf port-a-potties, where I learned that the Ritz-Carlton is coming out with its own rentable yacht." - PageSix.com
0 Leave a comment:
Post a Comment