Remember my obsession with the corporeal simplicity of The Ocean at the End of the Lane’s final image?
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Category: London Calling
Hands at the Edge of the Stage
The Ocean at the End of the Lane: my favorite use of stagehands ever??
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Fuck Andrew Lloyd Webber
Andrew Lloyd Webber is a terrorist.
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Plop, Not Plot
What can thrill us in a production a little while after the curtain rises?
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Long Day’s Journey into Scandaltown
Sometimes, a play’s conversational concept is enough on its own to sustain our intrigue for the entirety of a performance.
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Body Talk
No one in the history of the planet has ever been as enamored with neon fluorescent lights as Marianne Elliott.
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The Emperor Has No Costumes
Try to follow me on this one:
Holding Court on Un-Royal Men
The Royal Court’s here, and these Brits have some things to say, mostly damning, about men.
Telling & Performing
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.
A Walk on the Pedantic Side Up ‘Cyprus Avenue’
And now, back to your regularly-scheduled programming: the big finish to my Cyprus Avenue trilogy!
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WRITE ALL NITE 