Jeremy Irons at BAM Gala 2018

On Wednesday 30th May 2018, BAM honoured Darren Aronofsky, Jeremy Irons, and Nora Ann Wallace & Jack Nusbaum for their commitment and generous contributions to the arts.

6:30PM – Cocktails & BAM Art Auction
7:30PM – Dinner & Program
Brooklyn Cruise Terminal / 72 Bowne Street / Red Hook

9PM – After Party & Auction Closing
Pioneer Works / 159 Pioneer Street / Red Hook

.

.

 

.

 

Jeremy Irons – 7 Questions – TIME Magazine

From the June 4, 2018 issue of TIME Magazine (with Prince Harry and Meghan Markle on the cover)…

.

Click on the image below to view it full-sized:

TIME7Questions4thJune2018

The Love Song of Jeremy Irons – New York Times

.

Click on the image below to view it full-sized:

TSEliotNYTimesBookReview

Audiobook Review:

Jeremy Irons Breathes New Life Into ‘The Poems of T.S. Eliot’

by Lyndall Gordon

THE POEMS OF T.S. ELIOT
By T.S. Eliot
Read by Jeremy Irons
3 Hours, 41 Minutes. Faber & Faber.

There is no definitive voice for reading T. S. Eliot. His own manner, with its proper enunciations, can’t be placed. He was always from somewhere else. In his native St. Louis, his family looked to ancestral New England; at Harvard, he came from a “border state.” As a newcomer to London, teaching schoolboys in Highgate, he was “the American master.” He discarded his American accent without ever coming to sound unquestionably English. I wish it were possible to consult Professor Higgins: Can there be a neutral delivery, devoid of geographical cadence? The recordings of Eliot’s poems try for transparency; lasting content takes precedence over any one reader at a single point in time.

Eliot is the master of the unsaid. Irons’s sensitivity to Prufrock’s hesitation on the brink of utterance allows the poetry to bring out a prophetic impulse without sounding entirely absurd: “Do I dare / Disturb the universe?”

Like other great readers of Eliot (among them John Gielgud and Alec Guinness), Irons combines the velvet with emotionally alert variations in pace. With the line “It is impossible to say just what I mean!,” he speeds up the frustration seething beneath Prufrock’s genteel front, complete with formal necktie. Irons makes a bold decision to let loose the speaker’s longing, to the point of a sigh, and he is wonderfully suggestive in the variations on “Shantih shantih shantih” echoing on at the end of “The Waste Land.” I used to wonder if “the peace which passeth understanding,” Eliot’s note to this word, was building or fading. The poet’s own deadpan reading did not provide an answer, but Irons comes down on uncertainty with three different intonations. His final, stretched-out “Shantih” injects a strange intimacy following a thunderous “DA,” announcing rain — water as a sign of the spiritual fertility that Eliot longed for all his life.

Irons voices an Eliot who craves, desires and suffers more openly than in the sober accents of Gielgud and Guinness. Their recordings, completed during the poet’s lifetime, perhaps felt the impress of Eliot’s neutrality. Yet for them, and for Irons too, the poet appears one of us, which is to say that in all these recordings Eliot becomes more English than I think he really was. Irons glides smoothly over a barrage of judgments in “Marina,” “Death” being embodied in “Those who sit in the sty of contentment” and in “Those who suffer the ecstasy of the animals.” Here is an annihilation of the flesh worthy of his Puritan forebear Andrew Eliott of Salem, a juror in the witchcraft trials.

Instead, Irons lends himself to what coexists with the voice of judgment: what is hesitant, what feels unattainable and the struggles of a flawed being in “Four Quartets.” A high point is when Eileen Atkins joins Irons in the best “Waste Land” reading ever in terms of interpretation and play of voices. Listen especially to the repartee of a man and a woman caged together in a hellish union. Their emotional duo and the naturalness that Irons brings to Eliot make this set of CDs a special gift.

 

Lyndall Gordon is the author of “The Imperfect Life of T.S. Eliot,” and, most recently, “Outsiders: Five Women Writers Who Changed the World.”

Jeremy Irons Interviewed for Introspective Magazine

Source

Interior Design

Oscar-Winner Jeremy Irons on His Irish Castle and Antiques Obsession

The actor’s lifelong passion for design and collecting is reflected in his painstakingly renovated 15th-century home.

VanityFair19

Jeremy Irons, with his dog, Smudge, at Kilcoe Castle, in Ireland. Top: Irons and a team of workers spent six years restoring the 15th-century structure, where, he says, they did “everything from scratch.”

First comes the dog. Then, Jeremy Irons appears, filling most of the door frame of the small mews house in West London that serves as his pied-à-terre in the city. “Smudge! It’s a friend,” he calls out. Tall, with an innate physical elegance, Irons looks pretty much as he did when he shot to fame playing the beautiful young painter Charles Ryder in the 1981 British television miniseries Brideshead Revisited, or Claus von Bülow in his Oscar-winning turn in the 1990 Reversal of Fortune. Just a few more lines and sporting a slightly military mustache, grown for the role of James Tyrone in Eugene O’Neill’s Long Day’s Journey into Night, which moves from London’s West End to a run at the Brooklyn Academy of Music from May 8 through 27.

His sympathetic portrayal of the family patriarch alongside Lesley Manville in the Richard Eyre–directed production has garnered glowing reviews from the British critics. “It’s a marathon of a play,” Irons says wryly. “You have to keep fresh and interested, but that of course is an attraction.”

Nevertheless, on a chilly London morning in the middle of an eight-performance week, Irons seems happy to turn his attention away from acting and talk about his adult-life passion for decorating and furnishing his homes. (Quite often, as he tells stories of finding a chemist’s balance in Bucharest or a group of carved musicians in Morocco, he gives the impression that he remembers his movies purely for the interesting object-spotting locations they afforded.)

Irons’s London home is, he says, much like his other homes, just smaller. It is filled with color, with cream-of-tomato and blue-green walls and fabric hangings found in Afghanistan, which form a border around the living room cornice, framing rough hessian blinds. An eclectic assortment of furniture, much of it picked up at auctions or found in the street, and walls full of art (some of it by his photographer son, Samuel Irons) create a cheerfully warm and relaxed environment. Does his wife of 40 years, the actress Sinéad Cusack (who arrives home mid-interview), take part in the decorating? Irons thinks for a moment. “Not a lot,” he says. “She doesn’t have the passion I have.”

For nearly two hours, Irons talks to Introspective in fluent paragraphs about that passion, along with his belief that inanimate objects absorb the energy of their environment and about managing the restoration of Kilcoe Castle, his 15th-century home in southwestern Ireland.

Jeremy Irons solar room Kilcoe Castle
The castle’s main living area, known as the Solar, features a life-size wooden horse that Irons found in an antiques shop. The actor says he positioned the horse to “stand and watch the door into the main living room, the way white horses would face the enemy.”

 

Brideshead Revisited Jeremy Irons
In the 1981 British TV miniseries Brideshead Revisited, Irons (at right, with Anthony Andrews and Diana Quick) played a young painter who befriends an aristocrat at Oxford. ©Granada Television/courtesy Everett Collection. Take a look at Irons’s most stylish movies on The Study.

Did you grow up in a family that was interested in art or antiques?

Not really. My dad was an accountant and my mum a housewife who raised us, as was often the case in those days. We lived in a house in St. Helens on the Isle of Wight which was, I think, a converted stable. It was just after the war, and unless you lived in a house that had come down to you over generations, people didn’t really think about furniture and pictures. Ours were pretty ordinary, prints and so on.

I think it was when I started at theater school in Bristol that I first bought some paintings. I picked up about ten, did an exhibition at a framer’s shop and sold them for a modest profit. After that, I found a collection of eighteenth- and nineteenth-century Playbills and bought the lot. I slowly framed them and sold them. I still have one or two. My drama school fees were paid by my father, but my living wasn’t, so it was a way of generating a little income.

Then, I started going to the auction house in Bristol. It was a wonderful time. I don’t know why, but the antiques business was just flying, and there was so much interesting stuff about. If there was something I loved, I’d buy it and do it up and sometimes sell it. Often chairs — I’ve always been attracted to them.

Why chairs?

Chairs touch the most of you. In beds, you often replace the mattress, but chairs wrap around you, and if my theory — which I stand by — that inanimate objects absorb energy is right, the chair is the most likely piece to do so.

Kilcoe Castle guest room with ceiling woven of willow branches
A guest room features a ceiling made from woven willow branches.

How much restoration of chairs or other pieces do you do yourself, and how did you learn that skill?

I can do a bit, but I’m not a carpenter. If something needs really fine work, I will find someone. But I learned a lot just by doing. Our first house was in Islington. We didn’t have much money, and I bought most of our furniture at auction. Then, we moved to a lovely Victorian house in Hampstead, and I learned to do plumbing and electricity and more serious woodwork. You know, as an actor, you often have the time!

I remember collecting these wonderful tiles that used to be around fireplaces, and I made a little shower room filled with the tiles in that house. I found an old cast-iron range in my brother-in-law’s bookshop on Kensington High Street which I really loved. It smoked, and I experimented with a hardboard cowl to see if I could stop that. It worked, so I had it made in metal. I’m still sad that, when we left the house, I didn’t take it.

Then, we moved to a Regency house in Oxfordshire, where we still live, and I seriously had to look for furniture for that. I found a wonderful auction house in Newcastle and remember having a really good morning there, buying a French screen and wonderful wingback chairs — all of which we still have. I’m attracted to a Georgian aesthetic, and that’s what I was aiming for with the Oxfordshire house. I don’t like the heaviness of Victorian-era stuff.

guest room in Kilcoe Castle
Another guest bedroom contains a canopy bed and hand-painted walls.

Did you hunt for furniture when you were on tour or on location?

Yes, of course. I remember going to Stratford when I was with the Royal Shakespeare Company and living in a lovely house on the River Avon. Next door was a farm and a barn, and the chap who owned it would find furniture and ship it to America. I would keep going in and saying, “No, you’re not sending that.” I bought loads of really useful things there, like small cupboards.

When I was doing a Bristol Old Vic schools tour of the West Country, around fifty years ago, I found an abandoned house, and at the top of the shed were bedposts for two four-poster beds. I brought them back on the train, and when we did the house in Oxfordshire some years later, I gave them to a carpenter and asked him to make a bed with them.

I love going into traditional hardware shops in countries with different histories to us. I bought a mop in Greece made of wood and with looped rope that you can pull up to squeeze out the water. It hangs in our kitchen, and people often can’t work out what it is.

I hunted at home, too. I had an ex-post-office van, and I would stop at every skip [dumpster] and see if there were interesting moldings. I have always been a sniffer out of unconsidered trifles. Once, I discovered that an old house on Hampstead Heath was being pulled down, and there were these hexagonal white Carrara marble tiles with slate joinery that were going to be destroyed. I listened to a radio review of The French Lieutenant’s Woman while chipping them out. I still have them in the conservatory I built. In fact, I haven’t yet used them all.


“If something needs really fine work, I will find someone. But I learned a lot just by doing. . . . You know, as an actor, you often have the time!”


Kilcoe Castle kitchen
A pot rack hangs from exposed beams above the dining table in the cozy kitchen.

I’m not sure how you have found time to have an acting career.

Hah! It’s true that I’m always on it. Sinéad would tell you about us going out to dinner in Paris when I saw a skip near the restaurant. I looked in and saw a nice copper bowl — an old laundry bowl that would sit over a fire. I had exactly the place for it in an outhouse in Oxfordshire! I pulled it out, all greasy and dirty — we were nicely dressed — and I brought it to the restaurant. The lady who takes your coats took it rather gingerly.

What about paintings? Did you collect those too?

Yes, and that was fun, because after a while, I was earning well, and I bought some lovely pictures. I tend to be attracted to paintings done between 1880 and 1930, mainly of women.

Sometimes, I would meet friends in different cities, and we would go looking for paintings and antiques. I remember being at the Marché aux Puces at the Porte de Clignancourt, in Paris, and nearly spitting with rage because it was all so overpriced and uninteresting. Then I saw, leaning against a shop door, an oil painting of a maid sitting at her embroidery. In the background, you could see a little iron single bed and a table with a daffodil in a glass. Her face was wonderfully painted, and she said, “There you are. I’ve been waiting all fucking day!” I knew exactly where it would go. I put it up in our bedroom, and she yelled at me: “Get me out of here, I don’t want to be in this bedroom!” So, I put her in the other place where the light was right, in the sitting room, and she said, “That’s better.” She still sits there now.

Jeremy Irons
Irons says he once salvaged hexagonal white Carrara marble tiles from a house that was set to be torn down, and he later used them in a conservatory he built.

You own a castle in Ireland, which you restored. How did that happen?

Sinéad is Irish, and before the castle, we bought a little cottage in Ireland that was supposed to be a lock-up-and-go kind of place. We really rebuilt it, because it was falling apart. And that was great, because I went out into the Irish countryside and found some wonderful old things — settles and fire surrounds — and did the cottage in indigenous bog-Irish style. I came across a wonderful book about Irish furniture [Irish Country Furniture 1700-1950 by Claudia Kinmonth], and learned a lot from that.

During that time, I knew of the castle, which had been ruined since 1603. I thought, Someone is going to buy it and mess it up. I was getting bored with film work, so I thought, Why not me? It’s a military building, very male, very hard. How could I make this a nice place to be? It was such fun. It gave me opportunities I had never had before with a home.

We did everything from scratch. It took six years, but the first three years was the main stuff: rebuilding walls with a green sandstone I found — after looking through so many quarries — in the Forest of Dean [in Gloucestershire, England]. I drove it in my trailer all the way back to Ireland. Then we cut the windows and repointed the castle to a hand’s depth. Inside, we found that the mortar that had been put there in 1450 was still moist. The walls all the way round the castle were nine feet thick at the bottom.

After the repointing and cleaning, I had people going around almost with magnifying glasses, looking for striations and filling them with lime mortar. It looked absolutely beautiful. Then, we had our first major storm, and the water poured in. I called a mate who is a mortar expert, and he said, “You have to render all the walls with lime mortar.” So, now my green stones are all covered with render, and I needn’t have spent any time on the searching!

bedrooms in Jeremy Irons' castle
Left: A ladder leans against the built-in bunk beds in a guest room. Right: The doorway of the master suite is decorated with art and treasures from Irons’s travels.

 

sitting nook at Kilcoe Castle
The Solar includes this sunny sitting nook, where light streams through the stained-glass windows.

Did you manage everything yourself? Did the restoration process ever feel overwhelming?

No, because it wasn’t a twenty-four-hour-a-day thing. We’d start at seven-thirty in the morning and knock off around five-thirty. It’s a bit like being a film director: If the weather is bad, how do you keep everyone busy and employed? A lot of the workers were musicians, and I told them, “We are doing a jazz riff on the medieval. We have to remember where we are and can play with it.”

I’m quite particular. When they did the castellation, I thought it just didn’t work. I climbed up thirteen floors to tell the guys, and the supervisor said, “The trouble with fucking actors is the rehearsals!”

Did you know what you wanted the interior of the castle to look like?

Originally, I thought I’d repair all the rooms and do the walls, which I wanted to be rough, with all the kinks retained. I had stayed in a ryokan in Japan and loved the way it was so peaceful, with nothing to distract the eye. I thought maybe that’s what I’d do: keep it all glass and modern and empty. But then, I just let it evolve and talk to me as we were working on it. And it evolved into a cluttered interior! There is a sensibility that is the same in all my homes — different objects that I love, a lot of different colors.

I saw the movie Women in Love around 1969, when it came out, and one of the characters lived in a converted barn. I thought, That’s what I would like. And in the back of my mind, that image has always been there when I’ve done a house and collected the furniture.

master bedroom Kilcoe Castle
The master bedroom includes a hanging bed, which Irons commissioned from local craftspeople. The “upturned boat” shape of the room was inspired by the farmhouse where he filmed The Man in the Iron Mask.

How carefully did you plan each room? Or did you just try out different pieces?

A bit of both. Sometimes, I knew exactly where certain things would go, like a life-size wooden horse I found in an antiques shop in Stow-on-the-Wold, in Gloucestershire. It was a lot of money, and we were just starting the castle. So, Brian Hope, who has looked after the Oxfordshire house, and I went for a drink. I said, “If we use the horse as a mold, we could make fiberglass ones for people’s gardens and sell them.” And Brian nodded and said, “Good idea.” Of course, we never made a single one, but it justified the purchase. I knew I’d put him to stand and watch the door into the main living room — the way white horses would face the enemy — and frighten away those who shouldn’t be there.

For our bedroom, which is under the roof, I knew what I wanted from a time when I was filming The Man in the Iron Mask in a farmhouse in Le Mans. There was this room that I loved, like an upturned boat. I went there with Brian, and we took all the dimensions and rebuilt the room like that.

I’d always wanted a hanging bed, and I found local craftspeople to build it and the chests against the wall, which are built on a slant. There is willow work on the back of the bed, around the bath and even on the ceilings which was done by a local woman. So, all of that was quite thought out.

Other things were just serendipitous, things I found while traveling, like paint tins from the Skoda factory in Bucharest that are now lamp bases, or cushions and rugs and fabrics I bought while filming in Nepal.

Jeremy Irons and his dog Smudge ride in a carriage on the property around the castle.
Irons and Smudge ride in a horse-drawn carriage on the property around the castle.

 

Among all these wonderful discoveries, are there particular pieces that mean something special to you in any of your homes?

It’s difficult to choose, but there is one barrel-backed armchair I bought in Bristol. It’s probably Georgian, like a wing chair but with a rounded back covered in panels. Under the seat there was a commode, which I did away with when I got it reupholstered. It’s in my bedroom in the country, and it’s lovely to sit there with a cup of tea and look out of the window and think about the day.

https://www.1stdibs.com/introspective-magazine/jeremy-irons/

 

 

Jeremy Irons Plays Himself – The Village Voice

Jeremy Irons Plays Himself

‘You bring to it what you have as a person,’ the actor says of his approach to Eugene O’Neill’s James Tyrone in “Long Day’s Journey Into Night”

by Harry Haun

The voice is the sound of what one critic called “chocolate on gravel,” and it’s served Jeremy Irons superbly for close to four decades. It won him a 1984 Tony for The Real Thing, a 1991 Oscar for Reversal of Fortune, and a 2006 Emmy for Elizabeth I — plus a couple of auxiliary Emmys for Outstanding Voice-Over Performance (1996’s The Great War and the Shaping of the 20th Century) and Outstanding Narrator (2012’s Big Cat Week). Yet still he falls one award short of a full EGOT sweep. That could change soon. Last year, Irons cleared his throat and went gunning for that elusive Grammy, applying all his mellifluent might to recording the complete works of T.S. Eliot for the BBC. (A four-CD set of this is currently in release, from Faber & Faber.)

Giving voice to two of the last century’s greatest writers is something Irons brings off with effortless aplomb and assurance. Prior to taking on O’Neill’s demons at BAM, he had a night at the 92nd Street Y, doing an hour-long recitation of his favorite Eliot. He didn’t just read the poetry — he acted it, in a natural and uninsistent manner that made it movingly accessible to the rapt, sold-out house.

“The Cats poems are lovely, and The Waste Land is fantastic, and some of the others are great — but, for me, Four Quartets is his arpège, where it all comes together,” Irons says somberly. “It’s where I think people try to get when they meditate. It’s what some Indian gurus have. I think Four Quartets is an attempt, over four poems, to describe what that is and how one gets to it. It’s imperfect, but it contains wonderful ideas which only poetry really can get near. You couldn’t do it in prose, and you really couldn’t do it verbally describing it. It’s like Leonard Cohen’s line, ‘Look for the cracks — that’s where the light gets in.’ I’m a great believer in that. I think that there are many cracks in Four Quartets, but it has a great luminosity as a poem.”

Irons owes his introduction to Eliot to the late Josephine Hart, whose novel Damage was the basis of his 1992 Louis Malle film of the same name with Juliette Binoche. “Josephine did poetry readings and got me to read quite a bit of Eliot. His widow, Valerie Eliot, attended a lot of them, and she told me once afterwards, ‘I think you’re today’s voice of Eliot. Every period has its own Eliot voice, and I think you are today’s. I’d love for you to record as much as you can of him.’ So I recorded it all for the BBC. We put it out all in one day on Radio 4 on the first of January [2017] — eight hours of poetry, and all Eliot.”

He approached these poems much the way he approaches a character. “I’m not very intellectual as a person,” says the man who tosses off “arpège” and “luminosity” like bonbons. “I never studied Eliot till I had to record it, and then I really studied it — but not as an intellectual, just as an instinctive actor. ‘What do those lines mean?’ ‘What feeling was he trying to get across?’ I approached it that way, saying, ‘This has to be between me and him, between Jeremy and Eliot. What does it mean to you, Jeremy? And can I pass that on to the listener?’ I think — with Four Quartets — we did that.”

Irons’s entry level into O’Neill’s autobiographical “play of old sorrow” was a much straighter shot: The career path not taken by James Tyrone, the play’s penny-pinching patriarch, notably parallels his own — a comparison Irons himself invites. Both were seduced by Dame Success, opting for the easy, commercial route instead of one that tightened their grasp on their craft. Rather than challenge himself as an actor with Shakespeare and such, Tyrone took the popular path and endlessly toured in his signature hit, The Count of Monte Cristo. Similarly, when Brideshead Revisited brought Irons forth in 1981, stage took an emphatic back seat to screen. He had started in movies the year before, and now has amassed some ninety credits.

The closest Irons has come to a comparable Count of Monte Cristo cash-cow concession has been butlering for Batman as Alfred Pennyworth. “That role only needs me for a month or two every year, but I do see that compromise, and I can easily understand it — even though the business is not now like it was when Tyrone was an actor. Back then, there were potboilers, and there was Shakespeare. Now, there’s film and TV — not so much Shakespeare — but I do look at actors like Sir Ian McKellen and think, ‘Well, if I’d really worked my socks off, I could have gone for that sort of career and done movies later.’ But I distinctly remember when I was making movies and he wasn’t, he deeply wanted to be.”

Save for a filmed Merchant of Venice in 2004, when he played Antonio to Al Pacino’s Shylock, Irons has all but abandoned the Bard for movies. But, before cinema called, he got off a good lick playing Petruchio (to Zoë Wanamaker’s Kate), and another later, in 1986, playing Richard II. The Melancholy Dane got away, “but I don’t regret it. I would have liked to have done it. There was a time in my career when I was trying to get Harold Pinter to direct it. I think everyone’s got a Hamlet in them, but it’d be lovely to have a really interesting, transcendental viewpoint on the play. And I would have liked to have done Benedict, also. There are a lot of Shakespearean roles that would have been fun, but I would have liked to have done more. You can’t do everything, you know.

“It’s different now. I don’t think — had I not made movies — I could have had the sort of career Olivier had, for instance, because we don’t do that many plays. I remember reading his autobiography — and I think at the end of chapter two there was a list that took a whole page of the plays he’d done. They listed them all, and they said at the end, ‘And he had done this by the time he was 27.’ You couldn’t do that now.”

Laurence Olivier was the first James Tyrone that Irons ever saw, and it’s with him still. “I saw him do it with Constance Cummings when I was in my twenties. He was such a brilliant actor. It was the last production they did at his National Theater, and it was sorta iconic. It remains iconic, certainly, in memory. At the time, it was great.” He continues, “I saw the film with Katie Hepburn and Ralph Richardson — with moderate rapture.” Spencer Tracy turned down Tyrone because he couldn’t see himself as an aging matinee idol. “Maybe he’s right, but I think he would have been absolutely perfect,” Irons counters.

Irons also recalls a speedy, sharply edited edition that Jonathan Miller directed with Jack Lemmon and Bethel Leslie in the mid Eighties, as well as the most recent Broadway revival with Gabriel Byrne and a Tony-winning Jessica Lange. “I think it’s always Mary’s play. Hers is the journey, and the three men are coping with that journey. I think if it’s not her journey, if it’s not her play, then there is something missing.”

These are the performances that filed through Irons’s mind as he was preparing his own James Tyrone. “When I watched the play before I knew I would do it, I always gave into the play. But, once I knew I was going to do it, I thought, ‘I want to see what other people have come up with and see whether I can learn anything from them.’

Now “next door to seventy,” Irons could himself step into the septuagenarian roles played in his Brideshead breakout by a pair of legends — John Gielgud and Olivier. The latter, in particular, was acutely instructive on that project. “It was a great eye-opener for me because I saw [Olivier as a] tiger,” he remembers, “this tiger who was watching while other people rehearse — what they were doing, how he could shine. I thought, ‘Ah, so it never leaves you. You never become secure as an actor. You’re always watching, watching, watching…’ ”

Jeremy Irons to Perform at 2018 Irish Repertory Theatre Gala

Source

Text and image from irishrep.org

Alan Jay Lerner: A Centennial Celebration 2018 Irish Repertory Theatre Gala

Directed & Arranged by Charlotte Moore
Full Orchestra and Chorus under the Direction of  John Bell

Honoring Tina Santi Flaherty for her long history of philanthropy and support of Irish Rep

Monday, June 4, 2018, 7pm
The Town Hall
123 W 43rd Street

Join us for an unforgettable one-night-only gala performance celebrating the life and music of Alan Jay Lerner on the centennial anniversary of his birth.

Featuring performances by Jeremy Irons, Melissa Errico, Stephen Bogardus, Donna Kane, Maryann Plunkett, John Cudia, David Staller, and more!

Tony, Emmy, and Academy Award-winning actor Jeremy Irons will join a host of Broadway stars, a live orchestra, and a full chorus in unearthing rarely-heard gems and revisiting long-time favorites from Alan Jay Lerner’s most celebrated musicals, including Brigadoon, Paint Your Wagon, Gigi, Camelot, and My Fair Lady, all written with Frederick Loewe, and a special preview of Irish Rep’s upcoming revival of On a Clear Day You Can See Forever, by Alan Jay Lerner and Burton Lane, as Tony-nominated actors Melissa Errico and Stephen Bogardus take the stage to perform selections from this highly anticipated show!

Last year’s gala sold out in record time, so this year, “pull out the stopper…let’s have a whopper!” – just get your tickets on time!

BUY TICKETS NOW

We are proud to begin our 30th anniversary season by honoring our great friend, board member, leading business woman and arts advocate Tina Santi Flaherty, in recognition of her support of animal welfare, heritage, and cultural non-profit organizations both in New York City and around the world, as well as her history of philanthropy at Irish Rep.

Join us for the full gala celebration:
5:30pm: Cocktail Hour at Bryant Park Grill
8pm: Dinner with the Cast at Bryant Park Grill

BUY PREMIUM PACKAGES

For additional information about premium packages, please contact 212.213.1166 or events@carlacapone.com

All proceeds of tonight’s performance and special events will support Irish Rep’s mission to present the best of Irish and Irish-American theatre.

Screen Shot 2018-05-03 at 4.29.36 PM