As you know, I had real concerns about Ben Platt’s pants at a recent junket for The Politician, to the point where I thought he might have stolen them from a theatre that was in the midst of staging a Tennessee Williams play. And now, he looks fairly costumey again, as if he’s about to hop on the stage at your town hall to sell you a genuine bona fide monorail, or have someone conveniently off-stage throw him a cane so he can sing you a percussive little ditty about Dr. P.J. Timeturner’s Subatomic Supersonic Elixiastic Youth Tonic. The fight about the veracity of his claims on your neighborhood Nextdoor site will be epic.
