Alan Harris’s rollercoaster of a play is a hint of Spring renewal in the depths of February.
Mastery of style is everywhere in this jewel of a show that is wistful, wry, and deeply touching.
How could some very talented people deliver a show so devoid of authenticity?
But why isn’t there more light and clarity in this moody but muddy work about illuminated manuscripts?
Hats off to EgoPo for the theatrical coup of the season: mounting John Guare’s epic play cycle.
In director Ken Marini’s revelatory production, Beckett’s modern classic feels freshly-minted.
MJ Kaufman’s play is big on dogma and short on insight.
This chamber-sized production offers some large-scale musical pleasures.
Walnut Street’s handsome production doesn’t quite cut to the core of Stephen Karam’s fine play.
McCarter’s enjoyable production doesn’t fully realize the shows virtuosity or pathos.