John Cafaro
Sam Morrison recently got mugged. His attacker said, “I have a gun, give me the phone.” Morrison said no, and—as he tells the audience at SoHo Playhouse (to Feb 17) at his brilliant one-man show Sugar Daddy—“I know, isn’t that funny? I know we just met, but I think we can all agree that was off-brand. I’m an anxious, asthmatic, gay, diabetic Jew. We’re not known to excel in moments of crisis. If you ask me for my phone charger right now, I’d be like, of course, just take the whole phone. If you’re looking for the nudes, they’re under ‘Israel Trip 2012.’”
Morrison was determined not to hand over his phone—it had pictures of his dead partner on it. The “no” was coming from somewhere deep inside.
As theater prepares to rumble into its Tony season full-gear, Morrison’s is the best new show in New York right now: a whip-crack 65 minutes, beautifully told, sharp, moving, and truly laugh-out-loud, doubled-up, head-thrown-back funny. The title is a multiple play on words—referring to managing diabetes, his attraction to older men, and the ongoing grief he feels over the death of his most-loved “daddy,” his partner Jonathan (who was far from rich, he emphasizes).