I went a whole day yesterday without turning on my computer. My family and I, along with my sisters and their kids, went to New York to see a play and drop a ton of money on a couple of restaurants. Unfortunately, my brother in law was not with us, so I have no one to cajole into writing a review of the play, which he most likely would have panned anyway, had he seen it.
We went to Is He Dead?, a farce written by Mark Twain in 1898. It was an extremely silly play, the premise of which is that Jean-François Millet (a then deceased French artist) had faked his own death increase the value of his paintings. In order to collect the cash, he posed as his own sister, appropriately cross-dressed. Needless to say, at the time the French were not amused. The play was never performed during Twain’s lifetime, though the original plan was for simultaneous openings in New York and London.
The Times, to whose review I have linked above, gave the play a generally favorable review. I’m easily satisfied. It has some good laughs, and I think most people left the play smiling. The actors played it just right, right down to the Snidely Whiplash-like bad guy, complete with all black suit, black hat and sinister mustache.
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