Gypsy<br> Review by Matthew Murray
Two things are very wrong. One is LuPone, who with her steel-belted personality and ceiling-slamming belt might have been born to play Madam Rose, the Medea-hewn ultimate stage mother, but forgoes the opportunity to instead deliver one of the most disgustingly self-indulgent performances in recent Broadway history. The other is the bookwriter, Arthur Laurents, who aids and abets her and directs this classic into nons…
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