A STAR AT CHRISTMAS
JOAN COLLINS
Having toured all over the East Coast of North America for the past four and a half months, I am more than a touch jetlagged, but incredibly impressed with the modernity, beauty and excitement of some of these US cities. Although Toronto is not in the US, it still is to me American in flavour (although I’m sure I’d be lynched there for saying that). In the seven weeks that Legends played there, we stayed in a divine section known as Yorkville. This area has an eclectic selection of chic boutiques, cafés and restaurants to rival St Tropez, Covent Garden and New York City’s Village. Not only was it a pleasure to browse and dine there in fabulously balmy autumn weather, but there was no graffiti to be seen anywhere, the streets were litter-free and the citizens seemed less stressed, and better dressed, than in the UK. In fact, Toronto is one of the most beautiful cities I’ve visited, and its modern infrastructure and buildings blend in perfectly with their older counterparts. Truly the city planners knew their onions when they designed it. The only strange thing about Toronto is that during the entire time I strolled the city streets, I saw only one child, and that was in the building we were in. I wonder where they keep their tots?
Philadelphia is another spectacular city, with more great shops and restaurants. The women were also all extremely well dressed, almost Parisian, in fact, and the city possesses a trove of museums, cultural centres, parks and squares; also very Parisian. In fact, our favourite hangout (and that of the rest of the denizens of the filial city, it seemed) was a Parisian-style bistro called Rouge. All it needs is some civil unrest and it could easily be mistaken for Paris.
ABroadway icon died while we were in Philadelphia last month, and The Great White Way dimmed its lights for one minute in memory of the dazzlingly talented and adorable Betty Comden. I first met Betty with her writing partner, the legendary and hilariously witty Adolph Green, and no Manhattan or Hollywood party was ever complete without the two of them performing some of the numbers they wrote for Singin’ in the Rain, The Band Wagon, Bells are Ringing, On The Town, Wonderful Town — the legacy of classic movies and theatre productions is endless. Adolph died four years ago, so now they both will be sorely missed.
Of course, few beautiful cities anywhere in the world can beat Washington, DC. It’s as imposing and breathtaking as ever, with the White House seemingly painted and powdered to a shimmering glow. The mighty Potomac bisects the city, with ample parks and greenery on its shores, and the Washington Monument rockets up in twotone glory, aspiring like the hopes of a new nation, while, bridged by the gap of the reflecting pool, the Lincoln Memorial stands solid and stately on the other side, mirroring the man who held this nation together with iron will. (Pity they don’t have one now.) And on top of it all, the streets are festooned with exquisite Christmas decorations. We took a tour of the newly renovated National Portrait Gallery and admired the vast collection of portraiture and art it has amassed, including the Hall of Presidents where I was told that a few hours earlier Dubya had been making an ass of himself in expected fashion while being consulted on his own portrait. I was thrilled that my son Sacha Newley has an entire wall of the museum to exhibit his full-length portrait of the late Christopher Reeves, who sits impassively, like a man of steel, in his wheelchair. It almost brought tears to this mother’s eyes!
The National Theater was finally rebuilt in 1920 (after having burnt down three times) and has all the charm of a classical theatre, including original ‘hat holders’ which are affixed under each seat so that gentlemen could fold up and stow their ‘toppers’. Our audiences were, yet again, hugely enthusiastic while the critics, yet again, were not. I often wonder if they see the same play when, in the same city, one can call me ‘expressionless’ and another accuse me of ‘mugging’. I think it was George Bernard Shaw who described critics as ‘legless men who teach running’ or words to that effect. Or, as my friend Robert Wagner told me the other day, ‘They remind me of soldiers who arrive after the battle’s been fought and shoot the wounded.’ We attended the Kennedy Center honours ceremony, which was a fabulous tribute to five legends of the performing arts: Zubin Mehta, Steven Spielberg, Smokey Robinson, Dolly Parton and our own Andrew Lloyd Webber. We dined with the Lloyd Webbers two days before the awards, and when Andrew returned from the men’s room, he told us he’d overheard a man say to another, ‘My goodness, that Liz Taylor looks amazing these days, doesn’t she?’ I didn’t know whether to be flattered or to sue. The awards ceremony gives about half an hour to each performer, with film clips, home movies, photos and various musicians, singers, performers and civilians saluting them. It’s a four-hour evening with many highs and a few lows, among the latter being Jessica Simpson trying to imitate the inimitable Dolly Parton in a rendition of ‘Nine to Five’ while forgetting the words and going flat. The usually vociferous audience was stunned into stony silence, almost forgetting to clap at the end.
Dolly Parton, however, shimmering in white beads next to the Presidential box, looked as amazing as ever, and I was fascinated by the size of her waist, which is even narrower than her hair! To me, the highlight of the evening was Tom Hanks’s truly moving memorial to five soldiers and marines who stormed the beaches of Normandy in 1944, all of whom had lost friends and brothers to the barrage of gunfire that attacked them from the moment they disembarked from their landing crafts. Spielberg had used these men’s stories to craft the terrifyingly real opening sequences of Saving Private Ryan. The men, each in their eighties, made short but moving speeches about what happened that dreadful day and how grateful they are to Steven Spielberg for not letting the world forget their bravery. The audience could not contain their tears on hearing their stories, and the standing ovations were frequent at this point in the proceedings.
At dinner afterwards I sat one away from Ethel Kennedy and discussed with her the problems of finding suitable Christmas gifts for my three grandchildren. ‘Only three?’ she said wryly. ‘I have 33!’ So now we’re in Kansas City, and then off to London for a few family-filled days of our short break before the whole tour begins again in LA — I’m bloody exhausted! Oh, I almost forgot Hartford and East Lansing. So can you.
Joan Collins will continue her US tour of Legends in January — visit legendsthecomedy.com or joancollins.net for more details.
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