Perhaps unintentionally, Rick Foster’s hagiographic one-hander captures just what’s wrong with America’s most beloved actress.
Nearly everything about America seems to frighten this playwriting snowflake.
A rare opportunity to see Tell Me on a Sunday reveals a good idea, flawed in the execution.
Walnut Street’s production captures the arch surface of Wilde’s script, but not its anarchic zing.
In the 1980s, America collectively fell head over heels in love with Dr. Ruth Westheimer. And why wouldn’t we? The diminutive German-born […]
To review or not to review? That was my question as we divided up the schedule for City Paper. In the yes […]
It’s clever of the Walnut Street Theatre folks to program 9 to 5 on the heels of last season’s How to Succeed […]