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February 5, 2018

Please allow him to introduce himself, not that he’s remotely shy about doing so. He’s a man of stealth and taste, a smooth talker out of 1960s London who dresses like a Teddy boy and seduces with buttery brashness. The name of this spiffy young devil, whose contemptuous charm is dripping from the stage of the Linda Gross Theater, is Mooney. He’s a dab hand at misdirection, the sort of fellow who sets even stolid minds spinning in paranoia and perplexity.

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