Last night, we accompanied Stereohyped to a gypsy run of the Debbie Allen-directed Cat on a Hot Tin Roof Broadway show, the first all-black production of the Tennessee Williams classic. It was the first time the cast, which seemingly just began rehearsals, showed before an open-to-the-public house (if the "public" were press or a friend of the cast or crew).

We happened to have watched an episode of Friday Night Lights immediately before departing for the theatre; we ended up sitting in front of the show's Gaius Charles (aka Smash). It was a good omen: The all-star cast all-star performed.

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Cord Jefferson may think a certain Jossip editor is a jerk. And that certain Jossip editor may be writing in third person at this very moment to adhere to the constraints of Jossip style.

And still, we must take a moment to acknowledge Cord's lament on the suburbs. Namely, that the suburbs suck. And they do. We grew up there.

Usually, Cord's misanthropy is directed at washed up celebrities, which is funny and all, but making fun of Victoria Beckham is like shooting fishing in a barrel. Making fun of the suburbs, however, is like shooting fish at close range.

Wherein we review something that came across our highly selective path in as few words as possible, to exert the least amount of work possible, hoping to snag a Jossip soundbite in press materials.

British-import The History Boys combines eight hottie young men (the hottest who strips down to his tighty whities in the first act) in a smartly written (but perhaps with too many big words, with one drawn-out scene performed almost entirely in French) dramedy that makes molesting hottie young men while they try to get into Oxford worth laughing at while attempting to comment philosophically on bigger picture motifs like how random events are what creates history.

The History Boys. Currently in previews. Opens April 23. Tickets available via Telecharge.

The History Boys [Official Site]

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