Something from out of the archives, cleaned up a little bit and brought back into the spotlight for your enjoyment.
Blasts from the Backlog
It seems that each time I turn around, some milquetoast or incomprehensible author receives the laurels of a "revolutionary voice" in today's theatre. The eagerness with which our critical establishment flings this wreath at every pair of feet they see is almost embarrassing. This reflex, labeling
Blasts from the Backlog
That sounds like angry bees is not an unseasonable swarm approaching from the south. It is the perennial, the perpetual, argument over the ownership of text in the theatre. This is something we here at the Friendly Neighborhood Dramaturg have discussed and even been embroiled (albeit unwillingly) in as a
Blasts from the Backlog
To paraphrase a childhood hero of mine, it's a dangerous thing going out your door. A-holes seem to be everywhere, cutting you off in traffic, mowing their lawn at 7am on a Saturday, and generally making life unpleasant for everyone around them. Mo Rocca explored the A-hole in