"Undiscriminating taste," Mr. Webster? Well, maybe the plastic Rockettini cocktail glass (with a stem of svelte dancing legs) for sale in the lobby during a lengthy intermission pushes the "taste" envelope a bit...but no! Any reminder of the Radio City Music Hall Rockettes is worth whatever we pay (in outsize price and inner chagrin) in its acquisition. Time for full disclosure. You see, I'm in love with the Radio City Music Hall Rockettes - collectively, en bloc, en masse. I wouldn't respond to one of them if she fell off the stage into my lap. It's the group, in its perfect precision that won my heart the first time I saw them as a raw youth, fresh from the hinterland. In the words of the poet Yeats, "How shall we know the dancer from the dance?" Right on, W.B.
The Rockettes, lining up for their signature kickline, brought me to helpless tears (don't ask me why; some mysteries are better left unsolved) on that first occasion, and have never failed to open the floodgates in every subsequent encounter.
Over the years, my young guests have glanced uneasily at me and edged away, hoping that our neighbors in the audience won't associate them with the weeping wimp making a Spectacular spectacle of himself next to them. Maybe that's why two generations of co-opted kids have outgrown the Christmas Spectacular and me. But kitsch won't be denied: each year in December my predatory eye roams the landscape, in search of innocents who will spare me the embarrassment of sobbing alone, among strangers (since my wife, Kedakai, has long since abandoned me to my cascading catharsis).
So, dear internet friends, I wish you a Spectacular Christmas if you're anywhere near the Music Hall. I'd also like to offer you an emphatically non-kitsch gift that has begun in December with the Inside the Actors Studio premiere of Daniel Radcliffe, and will continue through the month of January with a parade of premieres: Josh Brolin, Laura Linney, Ricky Gervais, Conan O'Brien (coming to our stage after my 28 appearances on his) and Anthony LaPaglia. I admit I'm biased, but I hope you'll accept that cornucopia of talent as our holiday gift to you, our viewers. And since the holiday season is a time for joyful noise, I hope you'll forgive me if I blow my horn. The paperback edition of my memoir "Inside Inside" has just come into the bookstores; and I'm on the screen at your local Cineplex as John Travolta's director in "Bolt." Since it's a Disney film, I'm animated...or as animated as I can be, Will Ferrell's version of me to the contrary notwithstanding. A very, very Merry Christmas.