The performance art group art.party.theater.company has found a rather ingenious way to make cynical New Yorkers a hint more childlike and vulnerable.Step one. Cut a door in a box.
Step two. Put a star in that box.
Step three. Make 'em walk in that box.
Inside of a silver mylar-covered cube in the middle of Bryant Park is a mystery star (or stars). The company promises, "You know them and probably love them." When I arrived around 6:45, the line was already so long that the APTC rep said that we wouldn't make it into the Starbox by the time it closed at 8:30. As they surely hoped, this only intensified our curiosity. Who could be in the box? Beyonce? David Spade? Ed Koch? The possibilities were endless.
Working full-time in PR and having wrangled a few celebrities, I knew that the two faux security guards and no police presence in this public park meant, at the very least, no Mrs. Shawn Carter. (Ed Koch...maybe.) Banned from crossing the velvet rope like some kid from Dubuque at CentroFly circa '97, my friend and I commenced to conjecture.
"What if it's John Stamos? Dave Coulier? Bob Saget? Candace Cameron?"He had a Full House thing going.
"What? No. I think Dave Coulier is currently employed. Maybe Candace Cameron."
"It's a mirror," he said.
"Oh my God, you're right."
"It's a post-modern reflection upon the instant celebrity that the modern media churns out for every asshole Kardashian, Jersey Shore guido and fat farm reject."
And I knew he was right.
So while I won't be returning to the Starbox for the final two Fridays of its installation next month, I feel satiated knowing that I didn't wait in line for two hours to look at myself in a mirror. No matter. APTC had already gotten one over on me and my prescient pal. We walked to Bryant Park. We buzzed around. We even contemplated waiting on line. For what? To spend 120 seconds with Roseanne Barr or whatever "celebrity" would sit in a little-known theater company's homemade shack? Yes. That's exactly it and that's exactly what they want us all to realize.
