Tim Curry, the deliciously subversive British actor whose Dr. Frank-N-Furter changed popular culture forever, died Tuesday night at his home in Los Angeles. He was 80.For millions, Curry will always be the corseted, fishnet-clad mad scientist of The Rocky Horror Picture Show, or the terrifying Pennywise of Stephen King’s It, the magnificently suspicious Wadsworth of Clue, Rooster Hannigan in Annie, or the demonic Darkness in Legend. But before Hollywood discovered that extraordinary face, voice and capacity for making danger irresistible, Curry belonged to the theatre. And throughout his career, he kept coming back to it.

Born April 19, 1946, in Warrington, England, Curry studied drama and English at the University of Birmingham before beginning his professional career in the original London production of Hair in 1968, appearing as Woof and as a member of the Tribe. From there came an astonishingly eclectic collection of classical, experimental and musical theatre: Titus Andronicus, Man Is Man, The Maids, Life of Galileo, Loot, Danton’s Death and A Midsummer Night’s Dream, in which he played Puck.

Then, in 1973, came the role that changed everything.

Curry originated Dr. Frank-N-Furter in Richard O’Brien’s The Rocky Horror Show at London’s tiny Royal Court Theatre Upstairs. The production moved through London, then to the Roxy in Los Angeles, and finally to Broadway’s Belasco Theatre in 1975. Broadway wasn’t ready for it: the show closed after only 45 performances. History, however, had considerably different plans. Curry’s Frank-N-Furter—seductive, outrageous, dangerous, funny and utterly unconcerned with anyone else’s definition of normal—became one of the defining theatrical creations of the era. Curry received a Drama Desk nomination for the Broadway performance, and the 1975 film adaptation transformed what Broadway had rejected into a cultural phenomenon.

It would have been easy for an actor to spend the rest of his career trapped inside those fishnets. Curry did precisely the opposite.

Later in 1975, he returned to Broadway as the Dadaist poet Tristan Tzara in Tom Stoppard’s Travesties, transferring with the Royal Shakespeare Company production from London to the Ethel Barrymore Theatre. It was an early demonstration of something audiences would discover repeatedly: Curry could be flamboyant without being frivolous and intellectually formidable without losing the wicked glint that made watching him such fun.

In 1980, Curry took on Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart opposite Ian McKellen’s Salieri in Peter Shaffer’s Amadeus on Broadway. His Mozart earned Curry his first Tony Award nomination for Best Actor in a Play as well as a Drama Desk nomination. The role demanded exactly the contradiction Curry did so well: vulgarity and genius occupying the same body, childishness sitting beside something almost touched by God.

London theatre continued to claim him. He played the Pirate King in The Pirates of Penzance at Theatre Royal Drury Lane, earning an Olivier nomination, and later worked extensively at the National Theatre in The Rivals, Love for Love, Dalliance and The Threepenny Opera, playing Macheath—Mack the Knife—in the latter. He was an actor who could move from Gilbert and Sullivan to Brecht without surrendering the unmistakable quality that made him Tim Curry.

He returned to New York theatre as William Hogarth in The Art of Success at Manhattan Theatre Club and then, in 1992, returned to Broadway in the musical My Favorite Year. As the drunken, fading movie star Alan Swann, Curry found both the comedy and sadness beneath the character’s theatrical excess and earned his second Tony nomination, this time for Best Actor in a Musical.

In 2001, he played Ebenezer Scrooge in A Christmas Carol at the Theater at Madison Square Garden. Then came the Broadway role that introduced an entirely new generation to Tim Curry onstage.

Eric Idle asked Curry to play King Arthur in Monty Python’s Spamalot. Curry led the original Broadway company alongside David Hyde Pierce, Hank Azaria and Sara Ramirez when the musical opened in 2005. His wonderfully exasperated, magnificently straight-faced Arthur earned him a third Tony nomination for Best Actor in a Musical. He subsequently took the role to London’s West End, earning another Olivier nomination.

Three Tony nominations across three very different performances—Mozart in Amadeus, Alan Swann in My Favorite Yearand King Arthur in Spamalot—tell their own story about his range.

His later stage appearances included The Player in Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead at Chichester and Reverend Whoopsie in Eric Idle’s What About Dick? in Los Angeles in 2012. That July, Curry suffered a major stroke that left him using a wheelchair and significantly altered the course of his performing life. He nevertheless continued working, particularly as a voice actor, and remained connected to Rocky Horror, including appearing as the Criminologist in Fox’s 2016 television version.

The screen career, of course, was extraordinary in its own right. The Rocky Horror Picture Show, Annie, Clue, Legend, Home Alone 2, Muppet Treasure Island and his unforgettable Pennywise in It made Curry recognizable to generations who may never have seen him walk onto a Broadway stage. His voice alone became an instrument, leading to decades of animation and voice work and a Daytime Emmy Award.

There was something inherently theatrical about Tim Curry even when no theatre was involved. He understood entrance. He understood timing. He understood that outrageousness works best when the performer underneath it possesses absolute control. And he possessed that rare quality that cannot be taught in acting school: when Tim Curry entered a scene, your eyes went to him.

He could be sinister and hilarious in the same breath. He could make villainy seductive, absurdity sophisticated and camp genuinely dangerous. Most importantly, he never seemed to apologize for taking up the space a performance required.

Yesterday we lost Dolly Parton. Today we have lost Tim Curry. They say these things come in threes. For once, I would be delighted for the old saying to be wrong.

There are stars, there are icons, and then there are those extraordinarily rare people who somehow become part of the American vocabulary. Dolly Parton was one of them.

Dolly Parton, the singer, songwriter, actress, entrepreneur, philanthropist and gloriously self-created woman who traveled from a one-room home in the Smoky Mountains to become one of the most recognizable people in the world, died peacefully Tuesday in Nashville. She was 80.

Dolly Parton-Rockstar

It seems almost impossible to write about Dolly in the past tense because she spent seven decades making herself so vividly present. The hair. The rhinestones. The impossible fingernails. The laugh. The jokes she made about herself before anyone else could make them. But underneath the deliberately exaggerated package was something far more formidable: one of the great American songwriters and one of the shrewdest women ever to navigate show business.

Born Dolly Rebecca Parton on January 19, 1946, in Sevier County, Tennessee, she was one of 12 children raised in poverty in the Smoky Mountains. She began writing songs as a child and headed to Nashville immediately after graduating from high school. By 1967 she had joined The Porter Wagoner Show, beginning the partnership that brought her national attention but eventually became too small to contain her ambition.

When she left Wagoner in 1974, she didn’t simply say goodbye. She wrote “I Will Always Love You.” Years later, when Elvis Presley wanted to record the song but his manager demanded a share of its publishing rights, Parton refused. It was an extraordinary business decision. Whitney Houston’s 1992 recording would eventually turn the song into a worldwide phenomenon. Dolly kept her publishing. That combination—heart and steel—was Dolly.

She could write “Jolene,” one of the most instantly recognizable songs in popular music, and “Coat of Many Colors,” turning childhood poverty into something tender rather than sentimental. She crossed from country into pop with “Here You Come Again,” then walked into Hollywood opposite Jane Fonda and Lily Tomlin in 9 to 5 and proved almost immediately that she was a natural screen presence. The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas and Steel Magnolias followed.

Then there was Dollywood. What might have looked like celebrity branding became something much larger: an economic engine in the region that created her. Her business interests eventually stretched across entertainment, hospitality and consumer products, but Dolly never seemed embarrassed by money or hypnotized by it. She understood what money could do.

That became clearest through the Dolly Parton Imagination Library, founded in 1995 to provide books to young children. Her philanthropy extended far beyond literacy, including support following the devastating Tennessee wildfires and a $1 million contribution to COVID-19 research at Vanderbilt University that helped fund work connected to the Moderna vaccine. Her family has asked that, in lieu of flowers following her death, donations be made to the Imagination Library.

Her honors became almost absurd in their abundance: Grammys, CMA Awards, a Kennedy Center Honor, induction into the Country Music Hall of Fame and, after initially protesting that she did not consider herself sufficiently rock-and-roll, induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. She responded to that last honor in quintessential Dolly fashion: she made a rock album.

Her private life remained remarkably private. She married Carl Dean in 1966, and while Dolly became one of the most photographed women on Earth, Dean largely declined the circus. Their marriage lasted 59 years, until his death in 2025.

Dolly’s final act may now belong to Broadway. This winter, DOLLY: A True Original Musical, the autobiographical musical she helped create, is scheduled to arrive at the St. James Theatre. Previews begin December 7, with an opening night set for January 19, 2027—Dolly Parton’s 81st birthday.

The musical features Parton’s existing songs alongside new music she wrote specifically for the stage, with a book by Parton and Maria S. Schlatter. Tony winner Bartlett Sher directs, with choreography by Mandy Moore. The score draws upon the songs through which Dolly had already been writing her autobiography for decades, including “Jolene,” “Coat of Many Colors,” “9 to 5” and “I Will Always Love You.”

The date now carries a poignancy nobody intended when it was announced. What was supposed to be an 81st birthday celebration will instead become something else: Broadway opening its doors to Dolly Parton without Dolly Parton there to walk through them.

Yet there is something strangely appropriate about her having written herself into the next chapter before leaving us.

Dolly understood image better than almost anyone. She famously constructed herself from exaggeration and then spent a lifetime allowing people to underestimate the intelligence underneath it. She could be outrageous without becoming vulgar, sentimental without becoming foolish, enormously wealthy without pretending she had forgotten poverty, and deeply rooted in where she came from without allowing it to determine how far she could go.

Most importantly, she understood storytelling. She took a frightened woman begging another woman not to steal her man and made “Jolene.” She took a coat sewn from scraps and made childhood poverty beautiful. She took leaving a professional relationship and wrote one of the most enduring farewell songs ever composed. Now that song inevitably belongs to her.

Dolly Parton spent her life telling us exactly who she was, often while making us laugh so hard that we failed to notice how much truth she had slipped into the joke.

The rhinestones were real. So was the woman underneath them. Come January 19th, the lights at the St. James Theatre will rise on Dolly Parton’s story. She simply won’t be sitting there to watch it.

There is a difference between being scared and believing what is scaring you. Paranormal Activity, now on Broadway, is extremely good at the former and astonishingly bad at the latter. There are moments when the sound, darkness, video projections by Luke Halls and special effects by Chris Fisher genuinely make you jump out of your skin. Unfortunately, once your heart rate returns to normal, your brain begins asking questions, and playwright Levi Holloway’s script would really prefer that it didn’t.

photo by
Matthew Murphy

Holloway, who also wrote Grey House, clearly knows how to manufacture dread. What he doesn’t seem particularly interested in understanding is the supernatural world he is writing about. Psychic ability, hauntings, intuition and unexplained phenomena are treated primarily as mechanisms for the next scare rather than experiences governed by any internal logic. You don’t have to believe in ghosts to write convincingly about them, but you do have to understand the world you’re creating well enough to establish its rules. Paranormal Activity keeps changing the rules whenever the next twist requires it.

I attended with Friday Jones, an astrologer, psychic and artist, who came out wondering whether the script had been written by AI because the fingerprints were everywhere, including its “not this, but that” rhetorical cadence tagline. Indeed, its twists and turns seemed quite disconnected from recognizable human logic. That may be unfair to AI, but I understood exactly what she meant. Things happen because the play needs something to happen, not because the characters’ previous behavior makes the next choice remotely plausible.

Cher Álvarez photo by Matthew Murphy

The premise brings Lou, played by Cher Álvarez , and her husband James, played by Travis A. Knight, from Chicago to London, where they are apparently hoping geography will solve what followed them in America. It doesn’t. Strange things begin happening again almost immediately. This should be terrifying, particularly because Lou has already experienced unexplained phenomena and James has already spent considerable time refusing to believe her. Yet even when the evidence begins practically introducing itself to him, James remains remarkably resistant to the obvious. At some point disbelief stops being skepticism and becomes stupidity.

Travis A. Knight photo by Matthew Murphy

If you move into a house and discover within a day that it appears violently haunted—particularly after leaving another city under similarly disturbing circumstances—how long are you staying? More importantly, how many impossible things does your spouse have to witness before you stop behaving as though she simply needs a good night’s sleep? The audience sees enough to become frightened long before James seems emotionally capable of processing what is happening in his own home. That gap becomes fatal to the story because we are more alarmed for these people than they appear to be for themselves.

Alvarez’s Lou has the more difficult assignment because she must carry much of the supernatural burden of the story, yet the character never becomes as vulnerable as the circumstances demand. Knight fares no better because James has been written into a state of prolonged disbelief that eventually becomes impossible to defend. These are not bad actors. They are actors being asked to make human sense of behavior that frequently has none.

Then there are plot developments so improbable that the supernatural elements begin looking positively reasonable by comparison. Without giving away the larger machinery, there is a sequence involving a 12-year-old child, alone and soaked from the rain on an isolated road late during a violent storm. By that point I wasn’t asking whether ghosts exist. I was asking what 12-year-old is wandering around out there, why, and what adult writing this thought the situation required no further explanation.

That is the peculiar failure of Paranormal Activity. The ghosts aren’t what strain credibility. The humans do.

What nearly saves the evening is the production itself. Director Felix Barrett, the visionary behind Sleep No More, knows exactly how to manipulate an audience’s attention. He understands anticipation, silence and the unbearable seconds before something happens. His favorite theatrical moments are pregnant pauses. Given a script that frequently refuses to make sense, Barrett nevertheless constructs an extraordinarily effective theatrical funhouse.

When the Chris Fisher’s effects arrive, they are terrific. There are approximately five major effects that genuinely work, including one that is spectacular. I won’t spoil them because surprise is almost the entire pleasure of this production. They are beautifully engineered and timed, and several produced exactly the response intended: screams, gasps and that wonderful collective Broadway moment when hundreds of people simultaneously wonder what the hell they just saw.

Gareth Fry’s sound design may be the production’s greatest weapon. Fry doesn’t merely make things loud, though ear shattering he does; he makes the theatre itself feel dangerous. Sound comes from places your nervous system doesn’t expect, and there are moments when you genuinely feel as though something terrible is about to happen directly beside you. Anna Watson’s lighting is equally effective, particularly her use of darkness. This is darkness with purpose. We become afraid not simply of what we see, but of what Watson deliberately refuses to let us see. The house by Fly Davis gives us multiple levels, but there is also a problem here. They just moved in and it seems very lived in.

Shannon Cochran fares best as James’s mother, Carolanne. She understands that menace becomes more effective when it isn’t being announced, and she brings an unsettling quality to the role that the play desperately needs. Eva Kaminsky, as psychic Etheline, should provide the supernatural credibility that grounds everything else, but the character never feels authentic enough to do so. Again, the problem originates in the writing. If your psychic exists primarily to deliver supernatural information rather than behaving like someone who actually inhabits that sensibility, she becomes another theatrical device.

I came to Paranormal Activity having never seen the film franchise, which turned out to be useful. I wasn’t arriving with affection for the mythology, waiting for familiar references or comparing theatrical moments with their cinematic predecessors. I could simply ask whether the play standing in front of me worked. As a carnival ride, absolutely. As a play, no.

There is considerable theatrical talent on display at Paranormal Activity. Barrett knows how to scare us. Fry knows how to make the building feel possessed. Watson knows how frightening darkness can become, and Fisher the illusion designer knows precisely how to make an audience scream.

But after the scream comes the question. Why? Far too often, Paranormal Activity doesn’t have an answer. It has another effect.

Travis A. Knight and Cher Álvarez photo by
Matthew Murphy

For an evening built around things that cannot be explained, that might sound appropriate. It isn’t. The supernatural doesn’t require realism, but good storytelling requires internal truth. Give me ghosts. Give me psychics. Give me things moving in dark rooms and forces we cannot understand. Just make me believe the people living through it.

Paranormal Activity scared me several times.  I didn’t believe it for a minute.

Photo: Jenny Anderson

Not surprising, one night with the original Broadway revival cast of Falsettos was never going to be enough. The 10th Anniversary Reunion Concert of William Finn and James Lapine’s beloved musical sold out Carnegie Hall in a remarkable 90 minutes, and now a second performance has been added for Monday, November 2 at 7 p.m. at Stern Auditorium/Perelman Stage.

And yes, the gang really is all coming back.

Tony Award winners Stephanie J. Block, Christian Borle and Brandon Uranowitz, Tony nominees Andrew Rannells and Betsy Wolfe, and Emmy nominee Tracie Thoms will reunite to reprise the roles they played in Lincoln Center Theater’s acclaimed 2016 Broadway revival. Anthony Rosenthal, the production’s original Jason, will also make a special guest appearance.

The originally announced October 18 concert was intended to be a one-night-only event. Broadway audiences apparently had other ideas. Once tickets disappeared almost immediately, “one night only” became considerably more negotiable.

There is another lovely full-circle element to the reunion. Tony-nominated director and choreographer Ellenore Scott, who served as assistant choreographer on the 2016 revival, will return a decade later—this time as director of both Carnegie Hall performances.

“Ten years ago, I had the gift of watching these brilliant actors work, and helped bring this beautiful show to life on Broadway as an assistant choreographer,” Scott said, describing the company as having since become dear friends and her return as director as “the most beautiful full-circle moment.”

Vadim Feichtner also returns as Music Director and Conductor, leading a band that will include most of the revival’s original musicians, while Cory Pattak will design the lighting.

The reunion carries particular poignancy following the death of composer and co-creator William Finn in 2025. Falsettoshas always possessed that rare ability to be screamingly funny until suddenly it isn’t. Beneath the neurotic family dynamics, sex, jealousy, baseball, Judaism and glorious messiness lies a story about love confronting mortality—and about the families we inherit, create, fracture and somehow continue to love.

The musical grew from Finn and Lapine’s one-act works March of the Falsettos and Falsettoland, eventually becoming Falsettos, which opened on Broadway in 1992. Set against the emergence of the AIDS crisis, it centers on Marvin, his former wife Trina, their son Jason, Marvin’s lover Whizzer, psychiatrist Mendel and the wonderfully described “lesbians from next door,” Dr. Charlotte and Cordelia.

Lincoln Center Theater brought the musical back to Broadway in 2016 under Lapine’s direction, opening at the Walter Kerr Theatre on October 27. The revival received five Tony Award nominations and was subsequently filmed for PBS’s Live From Lincoln Center, allowing a production with a relatively limited Broadway run to find an audience far beyond West 48th Street.

Ten years later, that audience clearly hasn’t gone anywhere. There is something particularly fitting about Falsettos returning through a reunion rather than a conventional revival. This is, after all, a musical obsessed with the complicated meaning of family. Bringing these particular actors and musicians back together isn’t simply nostalgia; their chemistry became part of what audiences loved about the 2016 production.

Both Carnegie Hall performances will benefit The BroadwayEveryDay Foundation and Family Equality, adding another layer of purpose to an evening already steeped in memory, love and chosen family.

Tickets for the newly added November 2 performance go on sale to the general public Wednesday, August 26 at 11 a.m. ET through Carnegie Hall, by phone at (212) 247-7800, and at the Carnegie Hall Box Office at 57th Street and Seventh Avenue.

Considering what happened the first time around, anyone planning to attend might not want to spend 11 a.m. leisurely contemplating the decision.

Apparently, Falsettos fans move fast.

For four decades, Ken Fallin has been looking at famous faces and seeing what the rest of us miss.

Joan Crawford

A few strokes of ink become a raised eyebrow. A slightly exaggerated jaw becomes an entire personality. A familiar silhouette suddenly tells you everything you need to know about the person inhabiting it. That is the peculiar magic of caricature when it is done brilliantly: exaggeration somehow produces something closer to truth.

Alfred Hitchcock’s website

This fall, Fallin celebrates that remarkable career on two fronts. On Wednesday, October 7, from 5 to 7 p.m., New World Stages will host the opening reception for an exhibition of his work, offering audiences an opportunity to see the drawings beyond the pages and screens where so many first encountered them.

Gregory Peck

At the same time, Fallin is assembling a self-published book featuring selected drawings from his 40 years as an illustrator and caricaturist—and for those who think they know his work primarily through Broadway, the collection may contain a few surprises.

Ethel Merman in London

Because Ken Fallin’s world has always been considerably larger than the theatre district.

Karl Lagerfeld

The proposed book reaches through an astonishing range of subjects and assignments: actors and filmmakers, politicians and journalists, fashion royalty including Karl Lagerfeld and Yves Saint Laurent, architect Jean Nouvel, and hundreds of figures drawn during Fallin’s long association with The Wall Street Journal. Taken together, the images become something more interesting than a conventional career retrospective. They are a visual record of the people who shaped several decades of American culture.

Fallin’s first major break came in 1983 when he began creating the posters and advertising artwork for Gerard Alessandrini’s deliciously wicked Forbidden Broadway. It proved an ideal marriage of artist and subject. Fallin’s ability to lovingly skewer a famous face mirrored exactly what Forbidden Broadway was doing musically to Broadway itself.

Andy Warhol

Those drawings eventually traveled far beyond Manhattan, with Fallin’s Forbidden Broadway artwork appearing as productions reached London, Tokyo and Sydney. His visual language became inseparable from the show: you could recognize Forbidden Broadway before reading its title.

Bassets

By 1987, The Boston Herald had commissioned Fallin to create a weekly celebrity caricature for its Sunday arts and entertainment section. But another chapter of his career would eventually introduce his work to an enormous national readership.

Jean Nouvel

For The Wall Street Journal, Fallin has illustrated roughly 500 notable figures, ranging from presidents to movie stars, cultural figures and newsmakers. His subjects have included Barack Obama and Paul Newman, as well as journalist Tim Russert, whom Fallin drew for Peggy Noonan’s memorial following Russert’s death.

Bernard-Henri Levy

That work reveals something particularly interesting about Fallin’s gift. Caricature can easily become cruelty. Fallin rarely needs cruelty. His drawings can certainly be wicked—and anyone who has followed his theatrical work knows that his pen possesses teeth—but underneath the exaggeration is observation.

Warren Buffett

He isn’t merely drawing what someone looks like. He is drawing what makes us recognize them.

Cole Porter

Sometimes it is posture. Sometimes hair. Sometimes the architecture of a face. Sometimes it is simply attitude. Fallin understands that likeness has surprisingly little to do with photographic accuracy. Capture the right three things about somebody and suddenly there they are.

DOVER Quartet

That ability made him equally valuable outside editorial illustration. His commercial clients have included American Express, HBO, Showtime, CNBC and Walt Disney Productions, while assignments have taken his distinctive line into national advertising campaigns and commissioned work far removed from Broadway.

Patti LuPone

LuPone Carnegie Hall

Then there are the subjects themselves.

Gloria Vanderbilt

Sunset Blvd. Gloria Swamson

Fashion designers. Architects. Movie stars. Presidents. Broadway legends. Journalists. Cultural eccentrics. Fallin has spent forty years quietly assembling an extraordinary paper cocktail party populated by people who, in many cases, would never otherwise have occupied the same room.

John Williams

The forthcoming book promises finally to invite us into that room.

Judge Douglas Ginsburg

What makes the project especially appealing is the possibility of seeing work that even longtime admirers may never have encountered. Editorial illustration is ephemeral by nature. A drawing appears beside an article, advertisement or review and then disappears into an archive. Decades later, an artist can discover that he has created an enormous visual history almost accidentally. Fallin has.

Lani Bell

While the mediums surrounding illustration have transformed dramatically during those forty years—from newspapers and print advertising to digital publishing and social media—the fundamental appeal of his work hasn’t changed. A Ken Fallin drawing remains unmistakably a Ken Fallin drawing.

Robert Glasper

That may be the greatest achievement of all. In an age increasingly dominated by photographic perfection, filters, digital manipulation and now artificial intelligence capable of manufacturing faces that never existed, there is something wonderfully human about the visible intelligence of a hand-drawn line. You can see the decision. You can see the joke. You can almost see the instant when Fallin looked at his subject and thought, Ah. That’s it.

Steve Jobs

The October exhibition at New World Stages brings that line back where so much of Fallin’s story began: the theatre.

Yves Saint Laurent

The book promises something larger.

Vivek Ramaswamy

It reminds us that Ken Fallin hasn’t simply been drawing Broadway for forty years. He has been drawing his time. And what a cast he has had.

Ken Fallin