Oh hey Harry! Oh hey Potter! Oh hey Whip It Out! Ok, so yes, the truth is, the majority of the audience was there to see one thing and one thing only...one little thing...: "The powerful and provocative story of a stable boy and a psychiatrist who seek to understand the sexual and religious mystery which leads to a climactic and unbelievable event"?!?!? No, motherfucker. Everyone wanted to see some cock. Ahh Times Square is back to it's former glory where hoards of desperate sluts are paying to see penis! Who says you can't go back?
We arrived at the theater last night to be greeted by hoards of unattractive Midwestern tourists, the usual Broadway gays, and some very frumpy theater dorks who decided to deck themselves in Equus t-shirts and ski caps (These dump trucks have a long life of Twinkies, microwavable meals, and slightly annoying gay friends to look forward to...). The first 15 minutes of the show was about as pleasant as being gang banged by a lawnmower and his friend the weed wacker. Ouch! After the initial hump (ahem...), the show picks up and by intermission, it was actually quite interesting. The second half is even better and we even all forgot that we were waiting to salute Daniel's foreskin until he whipped it out (Eh, it's really about the balls anyways, isn't it? Oh HEYYY!). Surprisingly, the nudity isn't gratuitous and falls in line with story. Aren't they clever?
I was quite impressed with Miss Potter's performance. Who knew he could do more than wave around some wand and have an ugly scar on his forehead? The Harry Potter situation never really did it for me. Ohh it's so magical! Ohh it's so mystical! Ohh I'd rather shove a handful of raw tuna in my ass, wait for it to marinate, then glob it all over my face and call myself magical! I mean, wouldn't the storyline be more interesting if the lighting bolt was scarred on his penis and he Superman'ed Hermione in the opening sequence? We could call it "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Bone"?
We arrived at the theater last night to be greeted by hoards of unattractive Midwestern tourists, the usual Broadway gays, and some very frumpy theater dorks who decided to deck themselves in Equus t-shirts and ski caps (These dump trucks have a long life of Twinkies, microwavable meals, and slightly annoying gay friends to look forward to...). The first 15 minutes of the show was about as pleasant as being gang banged by a lawnmower and his friend the weed wacker. Ouch! After the initial hump (ahem...), the show picks up and by intermission, it was actually quite interesting. The second half is even better and we even all forgot that we were waiting to salute Daniel's foreskin until he whipped it out (Eh, it's really about the balls anyways, isn't it? Oh HEYYY!). Surprisingly, the nudity isn't gratuitous and falls in line with story. Aren't they clever?
I was quite impressed with Miss Potter's performance. Who knew he could do more than wave around some wand and have an ugly scar on his forehead? The Harry Potter situation never really did it for me. Ohh it's so magical! Ohh it's so mystical! Ohh I'd rather shove a handful of raw tuna in my ass, wait for it to marinate, then glob it all over my face and call myself magical! I mean, wouldn't the storyline be more interesting if the lighting bolt was scarred on his penis and he Superman'ed Hermione in the opening sequence? We could call it "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Bone"?
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