Barefoot and poignant
In the adult swim that is New York theater criticism regarding Sarah Ruhl’s Eurydice, I’d like to so my laps in a middle lane, somewhere between Charles Isherwood’s encomium and David Cote’s harangue (n.b., they’re both critics I respect and often agree with). I found that the play does suffer from some of the whimsy and triviality that dirtied up The Clean House and that makes me impatient. Yet this is a far more affecting script. At the matinee performance I attended, many audience members were in tears–and they couldn’t all have been mourning Scott Bradley’s unfortunate set. If The Clean House glossed over or prettied up difficult emotions, Eurydice sits with them. There’s treacle here, yes, but bitterer and more interesting flavors as well. And whatever criticisms one might make certainly don’t stick to Maria Dizzia, who is luminous in the title role.
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