
Dwelling on the performance for days afterwards, I still feel a great ambiguity. The play lacks coherence.

Dead Man’s Cell Phone is vivid through its accuracy and humour, which is couched in the magic realism of Sarah Ruhl’s writing.

Worthiness of topic doesn’t a piece of theatre make; Slut ought to be much more interesting than it is.

Blood manages to make a theatrical experience accessible yet still ask the large, serious questions about being human and being a member of society.

As a musical form, the waltz turns hand-in-hand with contradiction. Its graceful sophistication and sweeping optimism seem to score the advance of human progress as it glides effortlessly across history's page.
