It’s just a bit from the review for She Stoops to Comedy. A bit about me. Printed before Christmas, but I’m only just adding it to my site, which just goes to show you:
A.) How bored I am in cold, lonely London, and
B.) How busy I was in lovely SF. I miss the cast. And the burritos. And the yoga. Whenever I bring up yoga in London, people smirk. Just a bit. Or maybe they’re burping. Hard to say with the locals.
That leaves us with Capurro’s Simon, who delivers the show’s most electrifying moment. Could it be significant that the play’s best speech is also its least funny one? At about the 60-minute mark, Simon gets the stage to himself, and his monologue is worthy of Jaques’ darkest complaints. Identifying himself as “the stereotype of a self-loathing homosexual,” he excoriates himself for embodying, despite his best intentions, even the most tiresome gay clichés. He retires drunkenly to his hotel room, waking in the morning to take another handful of HIV meds. Set amidst a riot of sexual shenanigans, the monologue is a bleak retreat from the play’s otherwise comic vision: Greenspan, like his heroine, might just be well-suited for tragedy.