I know this section of the review is only about me, but it is my website, so I can do whatever I like.
I miss the show and the kids I worked with. London is cold and quiet, like a morgue. Let’s blame global boring. I mean, global warming. Or maybe we should blame the overweight. Or cows. Anyway, me me me…
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.