Stage Dive: David Auburn’s Back! Sort Of
The Pulitzer Prize–winning author of 'Proof' returns with an adaptation of a mothballed drawing room comedy by a playwright no one has heard of. And perhaps for good reason.
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The Pulitzer Prize–winning author of 'Proof' returns with an adaptation of a mothballed drawing room comedy by a playwright no one has heard of. And perhaps for good reason.
British comedy hero Daniel Kitson's one-man show recounts how being a polite Brit can really put a damper on killing yourself.
And who doesn't want to see that? Ibsen's nasty John Gabriel Borkman is at its black-comic best when these two bite into it.
Oscar Wilde's classic comedy is so ingrained in our shared comedy unconscious that it seems impossible to make fresh. That is, unless you're Brian Bedford.
The play is flawed — a majestic wallow set to the music of blue-collar despair — but the voice of playwright Tommy Nohilly is very promising.
Another vampire that sucks on Broadway, and two plays with amorous coupling for all ages!
The Democrats have reportedly secured the nine GOP votes they needed.
Ed Schmidt's haunting one-man show in his Brooklyn bachelor pad is about how theater has failed him in his hour of need.
Personally, I'm hoping for an incredible two-man version of "Another National Anthem" from 'Assassins.'
The play mates two dazzlingly great performances and gets under your skin, but it stops well short of a full Edward Albeean purge.
Rebecca Northan has arrived at a remarkable insight: An unscripted comedy-hour is really no different than a blind date — right down to the two-drink minimum.
The Massachusetts Republican supports the repeal of "don't ask, don't tell."
Merry Xmas from your friend, Republican Senator Scott Brown.
It's comforting, when Big Money rips a big hole in Brooklyn, to see docu-theater troupe The Civilians fill the bleeding void with smart art.
Two new plays, 'The Coward' and 'Break of Noon,' embrace the tradition of lilly-liveredness.
A fallen martyr of our youth retakes the stage, his glory restored, his strangled giggle un-gagged.
When a man eats a lightbulb for your wincing pleasure, you'll follow him anywhere.
In Long Story Short, Quinn skims thousands of year with an autodidact's stentorian emphasis and a drinking buddy's beer-breath bonhomie.