STAR-CROSSED
The New Yorker|November 04, 2024
“Sunset Blud.” and Romeo Juliet,” on Broadway.
HELEN SHAW
STAR-CROSSED

Nicole Scherzinger is Norma Desmond in Jamie Lloyd ’s cinematic production.

In Billy Wilder’s ur-camp masterpiece “Sunset Boulevard,” from 1950, Gloria Swanson plays Norma Desmond, an aging grande dame of silent film, who slides from self-regarding eccentricity into homicidal delusion. Intent on a comeback, Norma has seduced a young screenwriter named Joe Gillis (William Holden), but, when both he and the studio reject her, she swerves into a permanent dream. “All right, Mr. DeMille, I’m ready for my closeup,” she famously purrs to a wall of crime-scene photographers, her face smoothed f lat with grease and powder. In the film, Gillis still narrates—though he’s just been shot dead, like Jay Gatsby, in the pool.

Andrew Lloyd Webber débuted his musical adaptation of “Sunset Boulevard” (co-written with Don Black and Christopher Hampton) in 1993, returning to the dark sensibility of his then recent mega-hit, “The Phantom of the Opera.” Webber might have felt on familiar ground. The Phantom and Norma are both attention-hungry spiders in glittering lairs; both are fantasists whose faces, either twisted or simply aging, become their obsessive focus.

Faces—gigantic, black-and-white ones—are certainly the main scenery of the director Jamie Lloyd’s souped-up and stripped-down “Sunset Blvd.,” newly transferred from London to the St. James (after winning seven Olivier Awards), and starring Nicole Scherzinger, onetime lead singer of the Pussycat Dolls. Casting a gleaming Scherzinger as the fading Norma is deliberately counterintuitive: a burlesque dancer, she twerks her way through Fabian Aloise’s club choreography barefoot, wearing only a black negligee. Everything— the “reality” of 1949 and even Norma’s supposed decrepitude (she’s meant to be, like, fifty)—will have to exist in the imagination.

Diese Geschichte stammt aus der November 04, 2024-Ausgabe von The New Yorker.

Starten Sie Ihre 7-tägige kostenlose Testversion von Magzter GOLD, um auf Tausende kuratierte Premium-Storys sowie über 8.000 Zeitschriften und Zeitungen zuzugreifen.

Diese Geschichte stammt aus der November 04, 2024-Ausgabe von The New Yorker.

Starten Sie Ihre 7-tägige kostenlose Testversion von Magzter GOLD, um auf Tausende kuratierte Premium-Storys sowie über 8.000 Zeitschriften und Zeitungen zuzugreifen.

WEITERE ARTIKEL AUS THE NEW YORKERAlle anzeigen
ART OF STONE
The New Yorker

ART OF STONE

\"The Brutalist.\"

time-read
6 Minuten  |
December 30, 2024 - January 6, 2025
MOMMA MIA
The New Yorker

MOMMA MIA

Audra McDonald triumphs in \"Gypsy\" on Broadway.

time-read
5 Minuten  |
December 30, 2024 - January 6, 2025
INTERNATIONAL AFFAIRS
The New Yorker

INTERNATIONAL AFFAIRS

\"Black Doves,\" on Netflix.

time-read
5 Minuten  |
December 30, 2024 - January 6, 2025
NATURE STUDIES
The New Yorker

NATURE STUDIES

Kyle Abraham's “Dear Lord, Make Me Beautiful.”

time-read
5 Minuten  |
December 30, 2024 - January 6, 2025
WHAT GOOD IS MORALITY?
The New Yorker

WHAT GOOD IS MORALITY?

Ask not just where it came from but what it does for us

time-read
10+ Minuten  |
December 30, 2024 - January 6, 2025
THE SPOTIFY SYNDROME
The New Yorker

THE SPOTIFY SYNDROME

What is the world's largest music-streaming platform really costing us?

time-read
10+ Minuten  |
December 30, 2024 - January 6, 2025
THE LEPER - LEE CHANGDONG
The New Yorker

THE LEPER - LEE CHANGDONG

. . . to survive, to hang on, waiting for the new world to dawn, what can you do but become a leper nobody in the world would deign to touch? - From \"Windy Evening,\" by Kim Seong-dong.

time-read
10+ Minuten  |
December 30, 2024 - January 6, 2025
YOU WON'T GET FREE OF IT
The New Yorker

YOU WON'T GET FREE OF IT

Alice Munro's partner sexually abused her daughter. The harm ran through the work and the family.

time-read
10+ Minuten  |
December 30, 2024 - January 6, 2025
TALK SENSE
The New Yorker

TALK SENSE

How much sway does our language have over our thinking?

time-read
10+ Minuten  |
December 30, 2024 - January 6, 2025
TO THE DETECTIVE INVESTIGATING MY MURDER
The New Yorker

TO THE DETECTIVE INVESTIGATING MY MURDER

Dear Detective, I'm not dead, but a lot of people can't stand me. What I mean is that breathing is not an activity they want me to keep doing. What I mean is, they want to knock me off. My days are numbered.

time-read
3 Minuten  |
December 30, 2024 - January 6, 2025