Had a marathon week, as I needed to see eight plays in as many days in order to feel relatively guiltless about a weekend away. I noted a disturbing trend. No intermissions! Now this was absolutely welcome for the 65-minute Women of Trachis adaptation (a total delight, by the way, thugh it did only increase my sweetheart’s obsession with Heidi Schreck). But for plays like Frank’s Home and A Spanish Play that clocked in at nearly two hours, the measure seems punitive. The bathrooms at Classic Stage, where the latter is paying, seem punitive, too. Me, I like to stretch my legs, maybe have some coffee, or, if I’m not working and the play doesn’t delight, perhaps sneak away. I also love that moment when I resettle and the lights dim and the play strats up again and the outside word disappears.
Why this terrible move away from the intermission?
This article from the Village Voice Archive was posted on February 7, 2007
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