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Blog Post by Rebecca
Picture this: It's 8 a.m. on a cold weekday morning, and
I'm huddled against the cold stone of London's entrancing National
Theatre. I stand at the crossroads for my three favorite subjects in
the entire universe: Brits, schoolboys and sexual ambiguity. The unequivocal
warmth in my soul bubbles through my entire body, keeping me toasty and
giddy. In total, I saw Alan Bennett's "The History Boys" four times,
twice in London and twice in New York. If you require an explanation
as to why, simply lay your eyes upon Dominic Cooper, the finest breed of
Englishman. His tiny frame and charmingly cocky attitude form the
basis of the play's appeal to a straight female Anglophile. I yearn to
cradle his tiny body tight against my bosom.
After
viewing this tale of young boys vying for an acceptance into Oxford or Cambridge
once, I waited in line on a frosty morning to see it again, in the ten pound
cheap seats. My inexpensive place in the audience turned out to be
priceless: first row, and if I hadn't been 100 percent smitten before, it
certainly became official.
When the play came to New York, I
noticed that Rufus Wainwright, the other love of my life, had attended the
premiere in all of his velvet-blazer glory. I saw it again on preview
at the Broadhurst, and for a final time in July.
The gay aspects of the story are what make it so
compelling. Posner, a young, small Jewish boy from Sheffield, longs
for Dakin, Dominic Cooper's character, who receives his jollies by frisking the
Headmaster's secretary, Fiona. All the while Professor Hector (Richard
Griffiths of "Withnail and I") offers rides home on his motorbike to the
best-looking of his students (Posner excluded). Hector has a sort of
Leonardo da Vinci-apprentice relationship with these boys, i.e. he cradles their
genitals as they're riding back home. Call it a transfer of
knowledge. Irwin, the new teacher in town, is young and hard to
crack. Dakin becomes obsessed with pleasing him, and the sexual
tension ensues!
The film is finally out, and I saw it last
weekend, bringing my total views of this story up to five. It's a
fabulous adaptation. See it. And OH, the
soundtrack! Rufus Wainwright does a spellbinding cover of "Bewitched,
Bothered and Bewildered" which Kenneth Hill informs me is from "Pal
Joey," featuring Frank Sinatra and Rita Hayworth. As Rufus' version
sang its way into my heart during the end credits, I knew that immediately upon
my return home, I'd lovingly place my playbill underneath my pillow.
And I
did.
2 comments:
What the hell is all the talk about, If your having sex with someone of the same sex and now you tell me that I must respect you for doing it. I say your full of shit and Fag isn't a bad word to be labeled with what your about.
The only people troubled are the funnies anyway. Have your day sinners and stay the hell away from my children.
The only sin here is that you probably haven't listened to Rufus Wainwright, crazy.
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