My main problem with criticism today, both formal and informal, can be summarized in the phrase: “the selfish audience.”
News regarding Escape to Margaritaville; Sweat; Hamilton in London’s quest to stop scalpers/touts; the Stuttering Association for the Young (and Bruce Springsteen, kinda); the Ambassador Theatre Group/Colonial Theatre; and the Nassau Coliseum:
Leave it to a Brit to find a (potential) solution to a problem that has long plagued the theatre community.
French Playwright Florian Zeller burst onto the New York theatre scene this past season with the excellent Broadway production of The Father. Though he’s been popular in London for a few years thanks to the excellent translations of Christopher Hampton, the relatively young Mr. Zeller is a new, much welcomed commodity for New York theatregoers hungry for fresh dramatic voices. As such, when I found out another of his plays – also translated by Mr. Hampton – had recently transferred to the West End’s Wyndham’s Theatre after a successful run at the Menier Chocolate Factory, I made it a priority to see The Truth on a recent trip to London to determine whether Florian would be a one-hit wonder or a promising playwright to keep an eye on.