Almost half of the listed “running time” for La Voix Humaine is actually schlepping time, as the audience tromps en masse to and then from an Area 51-like warehouse in the nether recesses of Governor’s Island. Tucked away there is the latest depth charge by Ivo van Hove, who has jettisoned much of his high-tech trickery for a spare, raw, enormously affecting production of Jean Cocteau’s 1930 monologue, brought to incisive... More >>>