Author Archives: Alan Ilagan

The blooms of the Hawthorne tree always remind me of our old home, where an enormous specimen grew right outside my bedroom window, raising its thorny branches and blooming in sweet, creamy style every spring. Mom remembered how much Dad was annoyed at the tree – those blooms soon dropped their petals to the ground – and the ground was the bulk of our driveway. Petals don’t sweep up as easily as one thinks. Afterward, the berries would fall, even messier than the blooms, to greet the fall and make a further muck of things. I didn’t mind – that tree was a signal of the shift of seasons, and I welcomed all of them. On this morning walk by Central Park, we spotted a Hawthorne in bloom, and springs from my childhood came lovingly back to mind. 

‘The Picture of Dorian Gray‘ by Oscar Wilde is a novel that informed my youth, and devastated me every time I opened its worn and earmarked pages. Such an exquisite rendering of the gorgeous folly of humanity and vanity and art spoke directly to the person I was becoming, and Wilde’s words stayed with me, haunting the nights and peppering the days with wit and wonder. When I heard about Kip Williams and his take on the novel in a revolutionary play starring Sarah Snook, I proposed seeing if we could get same-day half-off tickets at from the TKTS booth at Lincoln Center. Mom was game as she had enjoyed the novel too, and after a bit of a line, we procured the perfect seats to viewing this life-altering show. 

We were both amazed at what we saw on the stage of the Music Box Theatre – a once-in-a-lifetime performance that must be seen to be believed. Worlds within worlds within worlds – the way New York stacks itself inside of itself, closing and opening all at once, revealing and obscuring and ever-enthralling.

We chose a simple, convenient, and classic establishment for a quick dinner – Sardi’s – as it was almost time for our final show. 

That seems a fitting point to start the closing of this lovely weekend, as evening descended over the unhushed city – and the magic of ‘Maybe Happy Ending’ began – is that a tragic ending? Not at all. 

The moon floated over the Empire State Building, and you know what they say when you get caught between the moon and New York City… 

Last year’s return to Broadway was a bittersweet one, as it marked the first time Mom and I would be spending our Mother’s Day weekend in New York since we lost Dad. This year was a little lighter, a little sweeter, and a whole lot brighter, as far as the spectacular roster of shows we would see.

We began in slightly misty fashion, and though that Friday threatened to be consumed by rain, we escaped most of it, as the heaviest part fell while we enjoyed dinner. In between, we managed a quick jaunt through Bryant Park and did a brief bit of shopping along Fifth Avenue. 

A Greek dinner at Kellari proved a delight, and I jinxed us by mentioning that I hoped Audra McDonald would be at that night’s performance of ‘Gypsy’ for which we had front row tickets. We got in the longest line right before showtime, before overhearing someone state that this was the cancellation line. Jinx confirmed, Audra was out, and it was too late to come up with another plan, so we filed into our seats – the first time that I’ve been in the front row of any show and not had anyone on either side of us. In fact, the bulk of the front section was woefully empty. 

No matter, the show must go on, and the rest of the company was enthralling, including understudy Tryphena Wade, who absolutely nailed the iconic role of Rose in a way that all too often gets overshadowed by whatever fabulous baggage a more well-known leading lady can often carry. A toast to the understudies then – they keep the theatrical fires burning. 

A misty walk back to our hotel revealed the magic of a spring night in New York, which turned directly into a glorious spring morning. 

And a hint of that evening’s show…

… but that happy ending would have to wait until after we took in the single greatest performance I have ever witnessed on any stage, Broadway or otherwise.