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Metropolitan Diary
DEAR DIARY:
I often have my morning coffee and read my Times in a place called Le Pain
Quotidien at Eighth Street and Fifth Avenue. There is a big community-type table
down one side that I sit at because I can spread the paper out.
Today several people sat across from and beside me, and I became aware that
the man, about 50, had a cockney accent. So I said, “You’re from the East End of
London,” which was correct and brought a big smile and a fun conversation with
him and his wife and the young friend of their son, about 30, who works here at
Morgan Stanley.
We chatted for 15 minutes or so (the man had seen a film I had made when I
lived in England, “Women in Love,” and asked lots of questions about it,
particularly about the nude wrestling scene, which people who have seen it
always do ask questions about) before a young woman sitting a few seats over to
my left, about 30, came over and asked if she could request a favor of the man
and woman:
“Would you read this scene for me? I’m auditioning on Monday and I have to
get the accent right.” She, too, had heard their accent.
The scene was from “Sweeney Todd.” There was much good humor as the
middle-aged couple read Todd and Mrs. Lovett, quite well, actually, particularly
the woman (the man is an air-conditioning engineer at the Wellcome Institute in
Cambridge, and they had seen the show and movie both), and then the young
actress read it with him, also quite well, and was commended by the Brits.
Then she said: “Thank you. I owe you something.” And so she started singing
to us, softly and very beautifully, the “Worst Pies in London” song, completely
unself-consciously. It was all very moving.
Then I told them that I knew Stephen
Sondheim and that I would tell him this story. Which I did. “What a charming
story,” he said to me. “Send it to the Metropolitan Diary of The New York Times.
You never get a chance to see your name in print, so it might be worth it.”
Larry Kramer
Laurie
