Ms. Lampanelli presents a sisterhood of women who have persevered through it all: physical abuse, fat shaming, love gone wrong and family dysfunction. Think The Vagina Monologues, but with cupcakes.
Ms. Benanti demonstrates a casual and natural sense of humor and a soprano that is as earthy as it is heavenly. Her 13 song set flies by in an instant.
In a world without Edward Albee, where do we turn to witness the effects of family angst and lost youth? To a puppet theater performance in the basement of Dixon Place, obviously.
Under the taut direction of Austin Pendleton, a uniformly strong ensemble reveals the devastatingly calm results of wrong choices and world war, without physically suffering more than a bruise.
Did you hear the one about the Irish taxi driver who created his own one-man show? It was more than fare.
I’ve never encountered anyone, on stage or off, who hates her God as much as Arnold does, though one can hardly blame her.
Perverted men attempting to seduce him? Naturally. Excrement? Exactly. A dishwasher full of dildos? But of course.
Under the fog machines of war, Shakespeare’s Troilus and Cressida, digs deep into the male psyche to explore the dilemma of being in love while being in battle.
I was beginning to worry that summer would pass us by without a time-travel musical featuring dancing zombies, puppet dinosaurs and the spawn of Satan.
Ms. Neuwirth knows of what she writes since she once was, in real life, a student of Mr. Toole’s. Beyond laying out the basic facts of his life and death, she also imagines what his family and personal life must have looked like, and it is a complicated sight.
At the center of the tale is Princess Constance. Like Princess Grace she is a young, beautiful American who marries the prince of a European principality. Like Princess Winnifred, she is culturally unrefined. And like Princess Di, she meets a tragic end at her prime.
Ms. Fellini tells us what we are going to see, shows it to us, and then tells us what we just saw. This is a tried and true courtroom procedure, but in a drama it’s just a bummer.
I felt a little dirty after seeing Adam Rapp’s disturbing new drama; like I had just spied on an unfortunate man for the pleasure of watching him suffer, like I had been manipulated into thinking that a good guy was up to something bad.
Attend the tale of Ollie and Jill,/Like Sweeney and Lovett they live to kill./They made a bargain just like Faust,/But at least they kept a beautiful house.
Just where one spouse starts and another ends is at the center of this clever, if overly complex, hour. Well, it’s at the left-of-center actually. Taking up the rest of the space is a dark, farcical version of a particular TV sitcom.