Word: stopparded
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...spent the afternoon with the playwright, Ira Levin, and the cast, making cuts in the script and rehearsing the changes. At 5 p.m. the rehearsal broke up; the Boston Globe arrived to talk to John Wood, the show's lead, who had stopped in Boston last year with Tom Stoppard's Travesties, and we settled down in the auditorium with a relaxed, casual Robert Moore. A few stagehands milled about the stage...
...fact that these days Shaw fills a newly felt vacuum in the theater. In recent years there have been plenty of playwright absurdists, psychologists, realists or surrealists. But when it came to the drama of ideas or a pure pyrotechnic display of language, there was only Tom Stoppard. And Stoppard is a pussycat compared with that tiger named Bernard Shaw. like his disciple Bertolt Brecht, Shaw regarded plot as the sentimental opiate of the middle-class theatergoer. In Man and Superman, he simply inverts the boy-meets-girl formula: woman wants man, man runs for his bachelor life, woman gets...
Theater critics and detective stories are the butt of the jokes (what could possibly be funny about play reviewers?) in Tom Stoppard's play-within-a-play-within-a-play, The Real Inspector Hound. Or maybe that's a play-outside-a-play-etc? It's immutable essence isn't esoteric (humph) but I dare you to understand the ending. It's a zany play by the author of Travesties and Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. Dudley House is producing The Real Inspector Hound tonight through Sunday at Lehman Hall...
...Stoppard's 1974 play Travesties sizzles in epigrams and bubbles with life for about another week at the Colonial Theatre in Boston. The Colonial is a superb playhouse, a child's conception of a theatre with gilt boxes and Michelangelo cherubs dancing on the ceiling. They've also got some $4.50 seats, and if you've missed the Tony winner for 1975--take your first chance and the Green Line down...
...interesting proposition--Joyce and Lenin in Zurich together in 1918--and Stoppard runs with it. Seeing Travesties is like getting on a runaway rollercoaster of one-liners, reminiscences and digressions. The play careens wonderfully through history and facts. John Wood, as the protagonist Henry Carr who knew Joyce and Lenin, is simply magnifificent; Stoppard wrote the play with him in mind. The other actors are at least competent, but dim in the light Wood casts. Although the serious theater-goer may say this isn't drama--too flashy, its characters lacking in depth--it is a fascinating and entertaining evening...