In her compelling deconstruct/rewrite of “Miss Julie,” set in South Africa 18 years after the end of apartheid, director/dramatist Yaël Farber doubles down on the elemental energies of Greek tragedy.
Benjamin Evett as Arthur and Erica Spyres as Guenevere turn in solid performances, dependable anchors for a cast that does the best that it can in a drab, bargain basement production.
In “Next Big Thing,” Terry Kitchen’s prose brings 1980s Boston, its music scene, and its rock clubs—from the long gone Rathskeller to the still standing Paradise—to life.
As the individual who quite possibly had the best seats in the house for the monumental legal battle that unfolded over the course of a few weeks in the summer of 1971, James Goodale provers invaluable morsels of insight and information.
Jake Bugg is hardly a punk, but he’s definitely acquired a bite that he didn’t have on his debut album.
Aminatta Forna has given us a novel that belies its modest premise, a book about how the human mind protects itself by not knowing, yet sometimes, due to unexpected circumstances, comes to terms with what it thought it could not.
One doesn’t come away from a Wayne Shorter Quartet performance merely raving about individual accomplishments: the set on Sunday night never felt like just a compelling sequence of solos.
A collection of poems and essays by the admired German poet Gottfried Benn, who, because of his brief association with Nazism, has been absent from our mainstream, non-specialized, English-language view of modern German poetry.
With the 1% rapidly vacuuming up the resources of the upper and middle classes, A.R. Gurney’s comic vision of the tipsy idle rich, shorn of cares and criminality, floats completely free of reality.
The set was thrilling, full of the most intelligent byplay, and consistently songful. Chamber music doesn’t get any better than this.