Just like I love Jean Smart – I’ve been glued to her exquisite humorous brand in TV sitcoms for five seasons Design for women– I was disappointed when I suffered a misleading oral marathon with an incomprehensible southern accent in the new Single Women’s Broadway show Call me Izzy In Studio 54. Often, I think smart fashion is impeccable and flawless. In this labor-based yawn, playing something Southern Gothic writer likes to call “trailer garbage”, she not only hopelessly mistakenly, but also shocking. She is a famous comedy idol, and she is also at home in everything Eugene O’Neill to Anton Chekhov. But for the specialized product of the Northwest Pacific, he never came closer to New Orleans than Carnival Glimpse, I wouldn’t say that an ignorant Louisiana cookie character was uneducated outside of high school, living in a trailer camp, with an abusive countryman, with a abused husband who beats black and blue, defeats black and blue, hiding in toilet poetry, it’s a real work, it’s a real thing.
Author Jamie Wax lives in the South, so he may have more experience in real life, such as the protagonist Isabelle Scutley, Née Fontenot, the Izzy like Jean Smart. A genius like Kim Stanley would undoubtedly turn Isabel into a memorable character like anyone in Tennessee Williams’ drama, but the written character lacks the depth and insight of Kim Stanley to make her life deeper in scripts within the scope of the script on Xerox Machine.
However, it must be noted that there are enough outlines here to make Izzy worth rewriting. She grew up, confined to the restrictive parameters of Mansfield, a person who never expanded to the Union Pacific Railroad warehouse. There used to be fruit from the loom lingerie factory, but it closed. (Things are coming up – Mansfield now has Walmart.) At the age of 17, instead of getting a scholarship at LSU, she married a lazy racist plumber who gave her a cemetery for wedding gifts, who had been with him for over 20 years, her only escaped poetry, but escaped poetry, she hid in the Tampacs box. She is allergic to any real expression of feelings. “I can fake orgasm, but I can’t fake a worthy hug,” she said with a relentless bab drone, like everything else in Wordy’s play, sounds like a mouth full of gravel and sawmill gravy. “What is this?” becomes “Wuz’is?” “This is what I’m going to do”.
Jean Smart struggles to create a pathetic character muttering to himself on a somber old bathrobe, long, fuzzy, uncombed hair and clumsy hair and clumsy people, but I was able to decipher 20% of the speech. Call me Izzy. All I have to do is call it disappear.
To eliminate running time, more painting descriptions followed – her stupid sister child attempted suicide, threw the radio into a bathtub filled with water without realizing it running on the turret; in various escapes she escaped from reality, sleeping with a bald dwarf and a man she met on a handsome guy across the street, looking like James Dean East of Eden “If James Dean wears a cowboy hat and acne.” Her child was born prematurely and died. Ferd burned her poems with 50 gallons of oil drums and stomped on her writing hands. “Everything,” Thelma Ritter famously talks about Anne Baxter’s life story About Eve“But the hound stings violently.” When Izzy called Ferd “Imbecilic Lobotomite,” the audience finally applauded, wrapped her last two surviving poems in a duffel bag and headed to the bus station. Aside from a vague and confusing ending, it was too late to rescue Izzy from an uncertain future.
I’m thankful for an actor who wants to stretch, and I’ll never forget the powerful work Jean Smart did in making TV drama serial killer Aileen Wuornos Lethality: The Story of Aileen Wuornos In 1992. She tried but didn’t do it again Call me IzzyThis is the vehicle with her completely wrong skills. It’s a self-indulgent exercise without real humor or adventure. Jean Smart deserves her role. Izzy is not one of them.
