Fela is astonishing! One of the most vibrant and uplifting theatrical experiences you will ever see. You should treat yourself to a night out. The show has migrated from off-Broadway to the Eugene O’Neill theatre on 49th Street. Some heavyweight producers have signed on (Jay-Z, Will and Jada Smith) and luminaries in our packed house included Spike Lee (yes, wearing a baseball cap) and Oprah BFF Gayle King (sporting a Michele Obama-esque waist-cincher). Written by Jim Lewis and directed and choreographed by the legendary Bill T. Jones, this music and dance extravaganza is about Fela Anikulap-Kuti, the Nigerian creator of Afrobeat, a unique synthesis of highlife jazz, James Brown and traditional African rhythms. We saw Sahr Ngaujah in the taxing lead role, but some nights Kevin Mambo takes over. Apparently he is just as good. As incredible as Sahr is, and as smokin’ as is the on-stage band, the show for me was all about the nine female dancers. They represent the 28 women who worked and toured with Fela, all of whom he married in one big ceremony.

Their performances are centered around their incredibly regal attitudes and their amazing booties, constantly rotating and shaking to the beat. The colorful and sexy costumes (designed by Marina Draghici, who is also responsible for the fine set), and the extraordinary makeup, are like the vivid plumage on rare birds. Their bodies range from Amazonian to tiny, from sinewy to well-muscled; they are all strong and supple and gorgeous.

Preceding this visual (and aural) feast, was another of an entirely different sort: dinner at Co., the year-old pizza place on Ninth Avenue (a quick jaunt from Broadway). It’s Jim Lahey’s venture (Jean-Georges Vongerichten is an investor), a chance for him to further explore the excellent square pizzas he has long offered at his Sullivan Street Bakery. In his review in the Times last July, Frank Bruni had this to say about it, “What an odd place.” Fortunately, we don’t have to listen to his drivel any more. We sampled all four salads on the menu—radicchio with taleggio and balsamic; finely shredded Brussels sprouts with roasted squash and frizzled shallots; escarole with anchovy and croutons; beets with watercress—and found them to be very good if not spectacular. The fennel-&-sausage pizza is not on the menu right now, so G had the boscaiola, with pork sausage, mushrooms and chile. Stephanie ordered the flambé (béchamel and lardons) and was willing to share, so Philip and I both went for the stracciatella, with puddles of soft, creamy buffalo-milk cheese, blobs of tomato and a flurry of spicy fresh arugula. They were uniformly delicious with chewy, blistered crusts and just the right amount of toppings. After the show, we all went back to the Ace, where the lobby scene was so extreme we high-tailed it to the room. The bottle of Bookers was waiting…