Remember my obsession with the corporeal simplicity of The Ocean at the End of the Lane’s final image?
Continue reading “Stay Up”
Remember my obsession with the corporeal simplicity of The Ocean at the End of the Lane’s final image?
Continue reading “Stay Up”The Ocean at the End of the Lane: my favorite use of stagehands ever??
Continue reading “Hands at the Edge of the Stage”Andrew Lloyd Webber is a terrorist.
Continue reading “Fuck Andrew Lloyd Webber”What can thrill us in a production a little while after the curtain rises?
Continue reading “Plop, Not Plot”Sometimes, a play’s conversational concept is enough on its own to sustain our intrigue for the entirety of a performance.
Continue reading “Long Day’s Journey into Scandaltown”No one in the history of the planet has ever been as enamored with neon fluorescent lights as Marianne Elliott.
Continue reading “Body Talk”Try to follow me on this one:
The Royal Court’s here, and these Brits have some things to say, mostly damning, about men.
Every time I see a one-person play, it’s hard not to evaluate the form as a whole through the prism of each individual take on it.
And now, back to your regularly-scheduled programming: the big finish to my Cyprus Avenue trilogy!
Continue reading “A Walk on the Pedantic Side Up ‘Cyprus Avenue’”