I had never before been to a premiere where almost a thousand people rose to their feet for a thunderous ovation IN THE MIDDLE OF THE MOVIE! Until last night. It was Dreamgirls at the Ziegfeld with Eddie Murphy, Beyonce, Jamie Foxx, Jennifer Hudson and the cream of the NYC crop completely electrified and ready to be more electrified before the lights went down.
The movie disappointed no one. (I asked everyone, see -- and a qualm was had by no one!) There was applause after pretty much every song (also rare) and I probably don't have to tell you savvy Andy's Blog folk when the ovation came ... and maybe that's why Beyonce didn't stick around to watch the actual film and was nowhere to be found at the premiere party. Or maybe that is just me trying to stir something up. I am a student of all things Diana Ross and it was jawdropping watching Beyonce channel Diana into Deena, the poses, wigs, photo reproductions, stage banter -- it is all Diana. And indeed Jennifer Hudson kinda does make you forget for a minute the other Jennifer -- but there is room for both those ladies on this earth. Eddie Murphy is sublime as a cross between James Brown, Little Richard, and Marvin Gaye. But Bill Condon is the real star of the film. It is everything it should be and everything a fan of the great musical would want it to be.
The party -- I mean Gays in Entertainment Convention -- was beautiful and at Gotham Hall (a former bank?) at Broadway and 36th Street. I ran into some friends who'd been at the Kennedy Center and gave me the whole sad story about Chestica Suckson's botched fiasco of a performance of "9 to 5" honoring (torturing?) Dolly Parton. I am speaking of Jessica Simpson, and if you have read this blog before you know what a no-talent loser I think she is, and hearing the story after seeing real talent onscreen separated the girls who use the big potty from those who use the little potty.
The short version of the story is that Chestica not only did not know the words of the American Karaoke classic and, further, could not sing it. Is there an American besides this one who canNOT muster a halfway decent version of "stumble out of bed and I fumble to the kitchen, pour myself a cup of ambition......"??? If Lindsay Blowhan, Britney, and Paris are the NY Post's 3 Bimbos of the Apocalypse, throw in Chestica and call it Mount Lushmore. (I know that was stupid but I am tired this morning.)
Dreamgirls starts a limited run with exclusive $25 dollar showings, soundtrack included. It's a deal!? I am trying to determine how soon is too soon to see it again.