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A show and dinner
Well, that was five hours of live theatre I won't soon forget.
I was looking forward to coming home and writing a decent review, but that was before I knew I wouldn't even sit down to dinner until after 9 p.m. Besides, what can I really say about the Neo-Futurist staging of Eugene O'Neill's Strange Interlude except that it's brilliant? Well, quite a few things, actually. I could talk about the man who stalked out screaming at director Greg Allen that he "hates Eugene O'Neill" or the seventh-act stretch or of an entire act reduced to three lines of dialogue or the ingenious use made of a rubber ball, a red balloon, and a Cabbage Patch doll (not all in the same scene, of course).
Leave that until tomorrow. For now, I'll simply say that we left hungry for both food and for dialogue, so the three of us made a beeline for the Atwood Café. They can't make a proper Aviation there, but they make a lovely Montparnasse.
I was looking forward to coming home and writing a decent review, but that was before I knew I wouldn't even sit down to dinner until after 9 p.m. Besides, what can I really say about the Neo-Futurist staging of Eugene O'Neill's Strange Interlude except that it's brilliant? Well, quite a few things, actually. I could talk about the man who stalked out screaming at director Greg Allen that he "hates Eugene O'Neill" or the seventh-act stretch or of an entire act reduced to three lines of dialogue or the ingenious use made of a rubber ball, a red balloon, and a Cabbage Patch doll (not all in the same scene, of course).
Leave that until tomorrow. For now, I'll simply say that we left hungry for both food and for dialogue, so the three of us made a beeline for the Atwood Café. They can't make a proper Aviation there, but they make a lovely Montparnasse.