Terrence McNally's early plays are among my favorites in contemporary theater. This one stunned me. It is all wrong. There are weak jokes at the start. The story is oversentimental to the point of sappiness. The talents of Bill Irwin are wasted on a pointless insert. The concept of an unrehearsed performance at the Met is ridiculous, as is the character of the novice diva. I rented The Last Mile from Netflix, watched it ten times and bought three copies. I have no idea why it succeeds. Nathan Lane seems at first to be doing an impression of Nathan Lane, but ultimately creates a warm quietly funny character. Paul Sorvino is over the top of the top, but hilariously believable. The trite plot elements become a surprise in how well they work. The sentimentality is ultimately sincere, and the final moment when Bernadette Peters walks on stage as Tosca is heart wrenching
Review of The Last Mile
