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COPYRIGHT 2006 All rights reserved. Reproduced by permission of The Condé Nast Publications Inc.
On a recent morning, Alan Cumming arrived at the Roundabout Theatre's rehearsal studio with a family-sized pizza box. "Your breakfast?" someone asked. "No," he replied, "last night's dinner." Cumming no longer looks the way he did as the m.c. of the nasty little Weimar night club in the Roundabout's 1998 revival of "Cabaret." Then he was like a weasel, a skinny, wiggly thing that could dive down the nearest sinkhole at the sound of a police whistle. Now he has bulked up. He has a chest, shoulders, and biceps, all of which he needs, for he has taken on the testosteronal...
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