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Ultimately, there’s a “look at my technique” quality to composer Lewis Spratlan’s writing in this piece that doesn’t match the musical content and that seems to be striving to be all things to all listeners.
The SpeakEasy Stage Company’s Xanadu is a joyful, fun piece of light summer entertainment, beautifully executed by the cast and crew, that celebrates sublime schlock in surprisingly hilarious and creative ways.
As sorry as I was to lose Mexican writer Carlos Fuentes last week, I was nonetheless deeply pleased that he reached the age of 83. I almost killed him when he was 37.
Stefan Zweig’s was a dramatic, action-packed, intense epic of a life, but Oliver Matuschek’s biography, Three Lives, simply plods along.
A.R.T artistic director Diane Paulus, entrepreneur extraordinaire, seems to have plucked impulse for character and meandering plot from a watered (down) idea of The Tempest.
Beau Jest Moving Theatre has returned to the early, one-act version of Williams’ script, and created a sometimes pleasant, sometimes nightmarish dreamscape.
Mark Morris, no longer dancing, joined his company for the curtain call. He’s beloved here, a part of the contemporary dance scene in Boston over the decades as a performer, a choreographer for the Boston Ballet, a teacher, and an inspiration to a number of local performers.
This family’s twelve-year-old daughter found Little Shop of Horrors to be funny, silly, and wholly enjoyable, further cementing her desire to be onstage as much and as often as possible in the future.
Simon Garfield’s tour of fonts, Just My Type, is a rollicking, sometimes snarky social history of the design decisions behind lettering from Gutenberg to the iPad.
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