ART on Broadway is basically three metrosexual French men in the middle of a friendship meltdown, fighting like drag queens but serving it with philosophy, wine, and artisanal olives. And darling, it is chef’s kiss theatre. And ok, maybe I wish they were a couple of gay characters with sharper claws, sassier lashes, and Balenciaga hoodies over Crocs with Jibbitz… but let’s be real, they’re French. Isn’t that basically the same thing?!
I went in gagging to finally see James Corden. Never caught him on Broadway before…and mama, the man cries like he’s got the TikTok cry filter permanently stuck on his face. He’s the melodramatic queen of the trio and I lived for every tear and meltdown. Neil Patrick Harris is the bougie intellectual doctor who spends a fortune on a blank white canvas because of course he sees meaning. He’s that friend who orders a $200 bottle of Bordeaux and then judges you for liking rosé. Bobby Cannavale is the overbearing bro, rolling his eyes, throwing shade like confetti, and acting like he’s the sommelier of friendship when really he’s just loud with great hair.
What makes it so relatable is that it’s never really about the painting. We’ve all had those ridiculous fallouts with friends, over a boyfriend, a bag, a Taylor Swift ticket, or who Venmo’d for the Uber. The fights that feel like the end of the world but end up being just another messy chapter in your group chat. That’s why it works: it’s petty, it’s profound, it’s friendship playing out center stage under a bogie spotlight.
Why see it? Because watching these three tear each other apart with wit is like Drag Race: French Philosophy Edition. You’ll laugh, you’ll cringe, you’ll see your own group of friends in their chaos. And by the end, you’ll leave grateful for your own messy, fabulous, judgmental, melodramatic ride-or-dies because baby, that’s what makes life art.
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1 Comment
I missed James and Neil so much they did great