Friday, March 23, 2007


photo: Sandra Coudert

Left at intermish.

As we see an author get settled into her new life as a college professor, a fairy? angel? (something in a non-descript billowy white dress) intermittently pops up and giggles like a munchkin and then disappears. That got so annoying after a while. I also sensed another possible playwright self-character: the young, beautiful, wise beyond her years, wildly successful author character bravely carries on with her work whilst all of the people in her life constantly burst through her front door and annoy her. Was playwright Lucy Thurber writing herself? I hope not. If so, gross. At the end of the first act when the Vulcan mind melds started up I decided it was time for me to not stay.

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