Digging myself out of Stalag 13 with a spoon
On the Sunday rehearsal before the Christmas break, I dropped everything I had been doing with Betty, my second act character.
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Packed with laughs of recognition and horror
I knew the play was fierce, with a kind of gritty, intentionally flat use of language that is mercilessly naturalistic with none of the embellishments of American naturalism – say the self-conscious cadences and cut-offs of Mamet, the lyricism of Tennesse Williams, the tragic earnestness of Arthur Miller. Then, just when I’ve decided the language [...]
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