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He had such an unbelievably believable presence on the stage. But he was also some sort of ethereal creature-- tall, slender, graceful, passionate, heartbreaking. Visually stunning, emotionally wrenching: he was every single critic's cliche. Honestly like something from some other world. His Leontes was terrifying. (Me to Gina after a particularly poisionous Shakesperean outburst: "He's scaring me.") He spewed venom that was almost palpable. You had to flinch back from some of it. He thundered and murmured with equal skill. He made me cry. Twice. Hard. (Me to Gina after a particularly heart-wrenching Shakespearean outburst: "I hate it when the children cry.") Don't laugh, but he was like nothing so much as a silver, beardless unicorn: ageless and awe-inspiring and blinding and elegant and beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. (Okay, laugh then. You're just jealous 'cause you didn't get to see the show.)

Look for my upcoming review of "Scooby Doo: Stagefright!": Scooby's Knob, or: Me Love Shaggy. Coming soon.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:47 AM | shower me with attention