A rare opportunity to see Tell Me on a Sunday reveals a good idea, flawed in the execution.
Tennessee Williams’ wrote his female characters with compassion—why can’t the director see it?
The Walnut Street production’s antic energy is both its strength and its weakness.
Isis’s earnest but constrained production doesn’t fully resonate.
Despite ingenious moments, the gimmick of Beth Wohl’s play wears out before it’s over.
Part II of the Lydie Breeze Trilogy is linear, concise, and better than Part I.
The Arden’s Toni Morrison adaptation is too much handsome staging, too little Morrison.
This heartfelt play about mental health is both too little and way, way too much.
Without its companion pieced, Trouble in Tahiti, this difficult late work feels like half of an opera.
The audience loved this musical Shakespeare send-up. So did I—sometimes.