Anyone who has seen these or other first-rate Albee productions will scoff at Aucoin’s generalization that “no one comes to an Edward Albee play looking for uplift …” Well, I do — illumination and vision are exhilarating — I suspect others do as well. Granted, you don’t go to Albee for “fun,” the fashionable requirement for theater these days — supposedly smart, but that is negotiable.
I could go on, but there is not much analysis in the piece — most of the review is plot, aside from adjectives tossed like bones at the performers and plenty of bad writing (“unhinged surreality” — do you know of any sane surreality?)
I had thought that Aucoin was a safe placeholder for the Globe – the serious, respectable critics are retained for the arts that pull in advertising and media attention, such as movies and classical music, while for theater, dance, jazz, etc., the equivalent of the bedazzled cub reporter, kicked up from the ink-stained ranks, will do, supplying blurbs and huzzahs as in the olde days. The goal is to do no harm, keep the box offices humming.