Richard Nelson’s family members talk to each other, not to us. We are privileged to be permitted to listen in.
trumpeter–composer Mark Harvey’s imaginative conducting made the pieces work together in fascinating ways.
Richard Nelson does not compel us to pay attention to his characters’ psychological disclosures, and his reluctance to underline is refreshing.
In 1939, Clifford Odets wrote that ‘we are living at a time when new art works should shoot bullets.” Fat chance of any shots coming from our voluntarily disarmed theaters.
Dramatist Richard Nelson’s language is plain poetry, which passes as prose. It is conversation, as another poet hymned, transmogrified.
Given the Russian writer’s modernist pedigree, should director/playwright Richard Nelson and translators Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky be punished for putting some “unevenesses” into their staging of Turgenev’s finest play, “A Month in the Country”? I think not.
A 19th-century Russian masterpiece presented in a translation and a production whose mishmash of style distorts the play and confuses both actors and audiences.