Working on a Special Day is an unusual show in every way, and I was thrilled to have had the opportunity to see it.
Echo’s Bones is a fascinating immersion, somewhat inept in its means, but sincere and gravely serious, in a subject that Samuel Beckett made increasingly his own.
By the end of the documentary, you’re in no doubt that Whitey Bulger was beneath dignity. Though not in his own eyes. There’s even vanity left in a crook who trims his white beard so scrupulously.
Classic rock (which is really a radio format, not a musical genre) is a strange animal, which has spawned an audience that apparently cares more about hit songs and memories than about who’s actually onstage.
Rufus Wainwright is like that: unfiltered family love and dysfunction threaded through whammo pop tunes wrapped in the sequins of more than a little clear-to-those-who-know celebrity.
Louie is a difficult show to advertise because it is the only example of art-television at the moment.
Cassandra Speaks is yet another dazzling vehicle for actor Tod Randolph, who excels in etching brilliant stage portraits of famous, complicated women.
After repeated visits (and you will need several to even scratch this dense content), 9 Artists begins to hang together in satisfying ways.
Ida proffers a cinematic experience that is austere and mesmerizing.
Beau Jest’s playful Apt 4D offers a wonderful opportunity to celebrate the creativity and imagination of the truly extraordinary theater troupe.