The foremost chronicler of how plays use nudity for dramaturgical purposes has logged back on.

Prudes might wonder why John Turturro drops trow in Sabbath Theater’s final coup-de-théâtre, but the rationale seems clear to me: the decision feels true to the taboo-schtupping ethos shared by both his theatrical-showman character and Philip Roth’s original novel (also, celebrity nudity sells tickets, relevant to his character’s uneasy relationship to the commercial side of his art).

But I’m more interested in why he doesn’t bare it all in the opening scene, a simultaneous orgasm in plain sight where the fornicators make sure to hide the sight of their privates.

Turturro’s character appears inhibition-free from the jump . . . but how do we square this impression with his initial junk-covering reserve? What change(s) does he undergo between the beginning and the ending that’s represented by his newfound willingness to dangle it out there?

Well, the play tells the story of this trajectory.