Unfortunately, they didn't have Broadway Bares back in the days of Ethel Merman. That might have turned me gay even sooner. But nowadays, the annual bash is a sweaty, writhing spectacle of hot bods that has long provided a welcome part of choreographer/director Jerry Mitchell's body of work, as it were—AND it's raised kazillions of dollars for Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS in the process. And now, all that naked flesh has somehow morphed into a very heavy coffee table book. Backstage Pass (Rizzoli; June 22) is shaping up as a nipply, butt-cracky peek into all the clotheless magic that has long made Broadway stand up and explode. My favorite part of the book description: "It includes as little text as costumes worn in the show." Sounds like my kind of read! But if you're looking for those lost Merman nudes, look elsewhere--maybe in Ernest Borgnine's upcoming book?

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Broadway Bares