I follow the goings-on on Broadway fairly closely, attend theater regularly in Los Angeles, and have recently started buying scripts of the latest plays - especially Tony and Pulitzer Prize winners. I am not particularly educated when it comes to the structure or the art of playwrighting. But I know when I find something inspiring and uplifting. And I must be missing something here. I would imagine the performances of the recent Broadway cast of this play were outstanding, etc. But I somehow fail to see how 3 hours plus of family members with all kinds of crazy problems cussing at each other is inspiring. This play, even though very different in style and content, left me feeling much like how I felt after recently sitting through "Who's Afraid of Virginia Wolff" - what's the point? OK, I'm shallow, but I think there are better things to spend one's energy and focus on.

A dilapidated, one hundred year-old farmhouse on the plains outside Tulsa has been the home of the Weston family for generations, and Beverly Weston, the family patriarch, has long found refuge in alcohol. His termagant wife Violet takes pills, whatever pills she can lay hands on, and the two have little in common and have not really communicated for years. Bev, who once published a collection of poetry, now spends time quoting T. S. Eliot, and Eliot's line that "Life is very long..." serves as a motto for Bev in his life. Bev's Prologue sets the tone for the play, and when Act One begins, Bev has disappeared. The family has gathered to support each other while they await news on his whereabouts.

A dysfunctional family which represents just about every problem a family can have, the Westons who have gathered are the three daughters of Bev and Violet, along with Violet's sister Mattie Fay, her husband, and adult son. Barbara, at forty-six the eldest of the Westons' children, has arrived with her husband and precocious fourteen-year-old daughter. Ivy Weston, age forty-four, is unmarried, constantly resisting her mother's meddlesome probing and her cruel remarks about catching a man. Karen Weston, the youngest, at forty, has brought her fifty-year-old fiancé with her. In the course of the three hours or more of this play, the family, overwhelmed by the selfish mean-spiritedness Violet, reveals and/or deals with their self-destructive behavior on all levels--from addictions, unhappy marriages, and infidelity, to sadism, suicide, pedophilia, and even incest.

Winner of the Pulitzer Prize for Drama in 2008, Tracy Letts deals with modern sensibilities but writes in the old-fashioned tradition of Long Day's Journey Into Night, Death of a Salesman (Broadway Theatre Archive), and even Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. Big, broad, and complex in its development of the family dynamics, the play maintains a surprising level of black humor, despite the level of misery within this family.

As the action reaches its climax, and the various characters must decide how they will deal with the rest of their lives, the audience sees that the decisions that are made are the only ones that can be made, given the nature of these particular people and their limitations. It would be a mistake to say that the problems are "resolved," but they are, at least, "settled" for the audience. An intense and powerful drama with enough humor to keep the action from overwhelming the audience, August: Osage County is a memorable modern day addition to the tradition of Eugene O'Neill, Arthur Miller, and Tennessee Williams. n Mary Whipple

Man from Nebraska: A Play
Bug
Killer Joe, a Play
Biography - Letts, Tracy (1965-): An article from: Contemporary Authors Online

A dilapidated, one hundred year-old farmhouse on the plains outside Tulsa has been the home of the Weston family for generations, and Beverly Weston, the family patriarch, has long found refuge in alcohol. His termagant wife Violet takes pills, whatever pills she can lay hands on, and the two have little in common and have not really communicated for years. Bev, who once published a collection of poetry, now spends time quoting T. S. Eliot, and Eliot's line that "Life is very long..." serves as a motto for Bev in his life. Bev's Prologue sets the tone for the play, and when Act One begins, Bev has disappeared. The family has gathered to support each other while they await news on his whereabouts.

A dysfunctional family which represents just about every problem a family can have, the Westons who have gathered are the three daughters of Bev and Violet, along with Violet's sister Mattie Fay, her husband, and adult son. Barbara, at forty-six the eldest of the children, has arrived with her husband and precocious fourteen-year-old daughter. Ivy Weston, age forty-four, is unmarried, constantly resisting her mother's meddlesome probing and her cruel remarks about catching a man. Karen Weston, the youngest, at forty, has brought her fifty-year-old fiancé with her. In the course of the three hours or more of this play, the family, overwhelmed by the selfish mean-spiritedness Violet, reveals and/or deals with their self-destructive behavior on all levels--from addictions, unhappy marriages, and infidelity, to sadism, suicide, pedophilia, and even incest.

Winner of the Pulitzer Prize for Drama in 2008, Tracy Letts deals with modern sensibilities but writes in the old-fashioned tradition of Long Day's Journey into Night, Death of a Salesman (Broadway Theatre Archive), and even Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. Big, broad, and complex in its development of the family dynamics, the play maintains a surprising level of black humor, despite the level of misery within this family.

As the action reaches its climax, and the various characters must decide how they will deal with the rest of their lives, the audience sees that the decisions that are made are the only ones that can be made, given the nature of these particular people and their limitations. It would be a mistake to say that the problems are "resolved," but they are, at least, "settled" for the audience. An intense and powerful drama with enough humor to keep the action from overwhelming the audience, August: Osage County is a memorable addition to the tradition of Eugene O'Neill, Arthur Miller, and Tennessee Williams. n Mary Whipple

Man from Nebraska: A Play
Bug
Killer Joe, a Play
Biography - Letts, Tracy (1965-): An article from: Contemporary Authors Online

By now, the over-the-top dysfunctional family is almost a cliche, but this is an apt vehicle for many of the tired characterizations in this play: the "wiser-than-all" native American who manages to stand above all the muck; the dumb sister with the sleezeball latest boyfriend; the pot-smoking teen; the pretentious academic who is having an affair with a student.

While the play was entertaining, it was more melodrama than drama. I left thinking, "What was the point of this?" To be fair, I do think I came up with an answer. I believe the playwright is asking the question, "What does 'family' mean?" The play explores some answers to that.

I do not think this play was worthy of a Pulitzer prize or the $102 ticket price that I paid to see it. As I mentioned, it was entertaining, but it's not a play that I'll remember for years to come.

Letts (who wrote Bugs), provides a mostly normal dysfunctional family drama with August: Osage County. The play revolves around the disappearance of the patriarch, who leaves the pill-popping, emotionally stunted mother, to look toward her three daughters and her sister to help her sort out what has happened.

This would make a wonderful production, though I wouldn't suggest it for high schools as there is explicit language, smoking, and much drug use. Good, balanced cast.

If you saw this most wonderful play and missed a line or two, or want to relive it by reading it, or want to relive it by doing a reading with friends, this is for you. If you missed the play, go see it. Then you will want to order the script, as I did.

"August, Osage County" is a lousy, off-putting title for a Broadway play. This is another family saga in which the family members get their kicks out of shredding and tearing each other apart. Once again the great American family firmly rooted in some regional hell devours itself. We've seen this done before, but wasn't it done better by Albee, Tennessee Williams, O'Neill, and Arthur Miller? It's the great pastime for American playwrights who don't have royalty and the gods to kick around as Shakespeare and the Greek dramatists did. Is it the American family that's so horribly dysfunctional or is it the playwrights with a perverse view of the world?
Reading a play is absolutely no substitute for seeing a play. Evaluating a play without seeing a performance is like fishing without bait. You may catch something by sheer accident, but it'll be a huge task without the bait snare. If the play has heightened language as in Miller's "Death of a Salesman" it fares better with a reader.
This play I had to read twice because it particularly needs and deserves a second and perhaps third reading. It's only then that you get to know who the characters really are, what makes them tick, and the humor, nuances and irony come across along with some of the real zingers in the dialogue. It has a number of characters that the reader gradually sorts out. On the page some emerge as stereotypes, others as caricatures on a first reading. A pill-popping mother, her three daughters and their husbands or boyfriends come in for some battering. Perhaps the more you read this play the more respect you'll have for it.
The father says doing his laundry is "getting in the way of his drinking." Talking about the U.S. the father says, "Dissipation is actually much worse than cataclysm."
Most plays reveal secrets as they go along, and this one has its share. It's a play with the venting of acquired family rage, spite, and nastiness. The mean-tempered, foul-mouthed mother Violet and daughter Barbara are champion gutter fighters who fight dirty and low and with venom in great confrontational scenes. Vicarious sado-masochism, anyone?
As the American family is under attack again in this long three-act play, we see the rings of the proverbial onion being peeled away, like layers of human skin as truth-telling time and dredging up of the past take place. The play has a final ironic knockout punch. In this case the more familiarity readers have with the play the more respect they'll probably have for it.

Clawed Back from the Dead
Nine Lives Too Many
The Daemon in Our Dreams
The Rice Queen Spy

With its colorful characters and snappy dialogue, "August: Osage County" makes for an unquestionably enjoyable night at the theatre as well as a fun read.

It's a nice piece -- witty and sharp, but as a much-heralded 'masterpiece' it fell short for me. It was ultimately pretty derivative, with a story and characters that are basically a mashup of "Crimes of the Heart" with your basic Tennessee Williams melodrama, and with a dash of the bitter dust of Sam Shepard for flavor.

The play itself moves along at a snappy pace but(especially when viewed onstage) is far too long, and could have been edited both in writing and performance to be much tighter. The three-act format feels indulgent and unnecessary. There are also several extraneous and completely unnecessary characters who directly contribute to the bloat, some of whom are total cliches. (The worst of these, a sleazy pedophile, is so clumsily telegraphed that he basically announces his motives within his first four lines of dialogue -- the audience actually groaned aloud when I saw it.)

For me, for something theatrical to be a masterpiece, I want to feel like I'm reading or seeing something new -- a story or characters I have not seen before. And unfortunately there just wasn't anything that original about AOC -- we've all seen the dysfunctional screwball family drama a zillion times and this just didn't bring all that much new to the table for me. When I saw "Wit," for instance, I encountered a truly unique character. I heard language I had never heard before, thoughts I had never imagined. Same with "Angels in America" and heck, even "Prelude to a Kiss."

But AOC? It's an enjoyable piece of theatre. On the up side, there are some wonderful monologues, some sharp observational humor and dialogue, and a lovely, truly haunting ending.

But, while a perfectly good effort, I was surprised that it won the Pulitzer Prize -- I just didn't see anything that brought it to that level for me. It's a good play. But I don't think it's a play for the ages and suspect it will probably not be performed all that frequently decades from now. Time will tell.

If some fans of this play want an interesting opposite view of Osage County take a look at Pawhuska Kid's Stuff by Stevie Payne. This is the Osage County I remember growing up there.

Cheers...................... ;-)Pawhuska Kids' Stuff: Memories of Pawhuska and Friends

The thought of giving up three or more hours to sit in a dark theater can make me depressed. Until something like this comes along! Just finished reading this play and so hope that I can get to NY to see it. I'm so glad this won the Pulitzer and so glad it premiered in Chicago at the Steppenwolf, as this is a play and a theater that truly deserve the recoginition.

August: Osage County is the best new American play I have seen in years. I saw the production on Broadway with the original cast and I was blown away! The characters are so raw and the humor and heartache so biting. I loved every minute of it and the three hours-plus zipped by in a flash. Anyone who did not like this show has to have their head examined or perhaps they are pretentious blow-hards...My husband and I found it to be absolutely riveting. We would see it again in a heartbeat. And I bought the script just so I could read it and absorb whatever may have been lost during the performance. I highly recommend this show and this script.

August: Osage County, is, quite simply, the best new American play in years. Brilliantly executed, and if you get a chance to see the original cast, brilliantly performed.

Letts will most certainly win the Pullitzer mere days from now, and we can all hope that Morton will win the Tony for her amazing performance as Barbera, the eldest daughter of the Weston clan.

This play is without a doubt the best thing on Broadway this season---and it has been a season of brilliant plays. If this doesn't win the Tony and the Pulitzer, there is no jusitce. It reads almost as well as it plays on stage. Get thee to NY and see this gem. If you can't get to NY, then read it NOW!!

The Westons whale away at each other with unrelenting bitchery for three hours and five minutes. During the evening, various dysfunctions are revealed: alcoholism, drug addiction, adultery, pedophilia, even incest. (Surprisingly, no one turns out to be gay, perhaps because the author didn't want to lump homosexuality in with incest, pedophilia, etc.). These revelations are hardly surprising, since the Westons are as screwed-up on the surface as they are underneath.

The play's wished-for ancestors are Long Day's Journey into Night and Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, but it kept reminding me of humbler fare: Robert Altman's A Wedding (1978), another semi-farcical expose of a family's infinite vices, and The Anniversary (1968), a Bette Davis film in which cackling Bette puts her grown children through an evening of malevolent hell. Like both of these vehicles, AOC has an inescapably camp tone, and while this serves to keep the sniping tolerable, it also prevents it from going very deep. The dialogue is HBO-sitcom, though none of the laugh lines are actually funny, and the play is studded with would-be aphorisms that are neither funny, clever nor true. In one respect, at least, the author has internalized Albee's vision: all of his men are weak, and most of his women are harpies or cartoons.

The play also works a distinct vein of pretentiousness. An American Indian, symbolic of Those From Whom the Westons Stole the Land, presides over the family's dissolution from an attic perch. Literary name-dropping and quotation--T.S. Eliot, John Berryman, Emily Dickinson--are deployed to make the evening seem important. There is even a ludicrous speech likening the Westons' disharmony to the supposed Decline and Fall of America. (Albee tried something similar in Virginia Woolf, suggesting that George and Martha's squabbling was a phenomenon of Spenglerian proportions).

But while AOC is neither a significant nor a good play, it is not boring either. The camp savagery keeps things humming, and occasionally throws off some genuine sparks--as in the play's best scene, a second-act dinner where the Weston's embittered and cancerous matriarch goads her brood into physical violence. I often walk out on plays, and AOC's double intermissions gave me two opportunities to do so, but I didn't avail myself of either. And there you have the best thing I can say about this celebrated American drama: it didn't drive me out of the theatre.

The Westons whale away at each other with unrelenting bitchery for over three hours. During the evening, various dysfunctions are revealed: alcoholism, drug addiction, adultery, pedophilia, even incest. (Surprisingly, no one turns out to be gay, perhaps because the author didn't want to lump homosexuality in with incest, pedophilia, etc.). One cannot describe these revelations as a stripping-away of the veils, since the Westons are as screwed-up on the surface as they are underneath.

The play's wished-for ancestors are Long Day's Journey into Night and Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, but it kept reminding me of humbler fare: Robert Altman's A Wedding (1978), another semi-farcical expose of a family's infinite vices, and The Anniversary (1968), a Bette Davis film in which cackling Bette puts her grown children through a bumpy night. Like both of these vehicles, AOC has an inescapably camp tone, and while this serves to keep the sniping tolerable, it also prevents it from going very deep. The dialogue is HBO-sitcom, though none of the laugh lines are actually funny, and the play is studded with would-be aphorisms that are neither funny, clever nor true. In one respect, at least, the author has internalized Albee's vision: all of his men are weak, and most of his women are harpies or cartoons.

On top of this, the play works a distinct vein of pretentiousness. An American Indian, symbolic of Those From Whom the Westons Stole the Land, presides over the family's dissolution from an attic perch. There is literary name-dropping and quotation--T.S. Eliot, John Berryman, Emily Dickinson--deployed to make the evening seem important. There is even a ludicrous speech likening the Westons' disharmony to the supposed Decline and Fall of America. (Albee tried something similar in Virginia Woolf, suggesting that George and Martha's squabbling was a phenomenon of Spenglerian proportions).

But while AOC is neither a significant nor a good play, it is not boring either. The camp savagery keeps things humming, and occasionally throws off some genuine sparks--as in the play's best scene, a second-act dinner where the Weston's embittered and cancerous matriarch goads her brood into physical violence. I often walk out on plays, and AOC's double intermissions gave me two opportunities to do so, but I didn't avail myself of either. And there you have the best thing I can say about this celebrated American drama: it didn't drive me out of the theatre.

The Westons whale away at each other with unrelenting bitchery for three hours and five minutes. During the evening, various dysfunctions are revealed: alcoholism, drug addiction, adultery, pedophilia, even incest. (Surprisingly, no one turns out to be gay, perhaps because the author didn't want to lump homosexuality in with incest, pedophilia, etc.). One cannot describe these revelations as a stripping-away of the veils, since the Westons are as screwed-up on the surface as they are underneath.

The play's wished-for ancestors are Long Day's Journey into Night and Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, but it kept reminding me of humbler fare: Robert Altman's A Wedding (1978), another semi-farcical expose of a family's infinite vices, and The Anniversary (1968), a Bette Davis film in which cackling Bette puts her grown children through an evening of malevolent hell. Like both of these vehicles, AOC has an inescapably camp tone, and while this serves to keep the sniping tolerable, it also prevents it from going very deep. The dialogue is HBO-sitcom, though none of the laugh lines are actually funny, and the play is studded with would-be aphorisms that are neither funny, clever nor true. In one respect, at least, the author has internalized Albee's vision: all of his men are weak, and most of his women are harpies or cartoons.

The play also works a distinct vein of pretentiousness. An American Indian, symbolic of Those From Whom the Westons Stole the Land, presides over the family's dissolution from an attic perch. Literary name-dropping and quotation--T.S. Eliot, John Berryman, Emily Dickinson--are deployed to make the evening seem important. There is even a ludicrous speech likening the Westons' disharmony to the supposed Decline and Fall of America. (Albee tried something similar in Virginia Woolf, suggesting that George and Martha's squabbling was a phenomenon of Spenglerian proportions).

But while AOC is neither a significant nor a good play, it is not boring either. The camp savagery keeps things humming, and occasionally throws off some genuine sparks--as in the play's best scene, a second-act dinner where the Weston's embittered and cancerous matriarch goads her brood into physical violence. I often walk out on plays, and AOC's double intermissions gave me two opportunities to do so, but I didn't avail myself of either. And there you have the best thing I can say about this celebrated American drama: it didn't drive me out of the theatre.

The Westons whale away at each other with unrelenting bitchery for three hours and five minutes. During the evening, various dysfunctions are revealed: alcoholism, drug addiction, adultery, pedophilia, even incest. (Surprisingly, no one turns out to be gay, perhaps because the author didn't want to lump homosexuality in with incest, pedophilia, etc.). Should one describe these revelations as a stripping-away of the veils? No, because the Westons are as screwed-up on the surface as they are underneath.

The play's wished-for ancestors are Long Day's Journey into Night and Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, but it kept reminding me of humbler fare: Robert Altman's A Wedding (1978), another semi-farcical expose of a family's infinite vices, and The Anniversary (1968), a Bette Davis film in which cackling Bette puts her grown children through an evening of malevolent hell. Like both of these vehicles, AOC has an inescapably camp tone, and while this serves to keep the sniping tolerable, it also prevents it from going very deep. The dialogue is HBO-sitcom, though none of the laugh lines are actually funny, and the play is studded with would-be aphorisms that are neither funny, clever nor true. In one respect, at least, the author has internalized Albee's vision: all of his men are weak, and most of his women are harpies or cartoons.

The play also works a distinct vein of pretentiousness. An American Indian, symbolic of Those From Whom the Westons Stole the Land, presides over the family's dissolution from an attic perch. Literary name-dropping and quotation--T.S. Eliot, John Berryman, Emily Dickinson--are deployed to make the evening seem important. There is even a ludicrous speech likening the Westons' disharmony to the supposed Decline and Fall of America. (Albee tried something similar in Virginia Woolf, suggesting that George and Martha's squabbling was a phenomenon of Spenglerian proportions).

But while AOC is neither a significant nor a good play, it is not boring either. The camp savagery keeps things humming, and occasionally throws off some genuine sparks--as in the play's best scene, a second-act dinner where the Weston's embittered and cancerous matriarch goads her brood into physical violence. I often walk out on plays, and AOC's double intermissions gave me two opportunities to do so, but I didn't avail myself of either. And there you have the best thing I can say about this celebrated American drama: it didn't drive me out of the theatre.

The Westons, their spouses and offspring, whale away at each other with unrelenting bitchery for three hours and five minutes. During the evening, various dysfunctions are exposed: alcoholism, drug addiction, adultery, pedophilia, even incest. (Surprisingly, no one turns out to be gay, but this may perhaps be ascribed to the author's PC timidity: it wouldn't do to seemingly lump homosexuality in with incest, pedophilia, etc.). These serial revelations can hardly be deemed a stripping-away of the veils, since the Westons are as screwed-up on the surface as they are underneath.

The play's wished-for progenitors are Long Day's Journey into Night and Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, but it kept reminding me of humbler fare: Robert Altman's A Wedding (1978), another semi-farcical expose of a family's infinite vices, and The Anniversary (1968), in which a cackling Bette Davis puts her adult children through a bumpy night. Like both these vehicles, AOC has a persistently camp tone, and while this serves to keep the sniping tolerable, it also prevents it from going very deep. The writing is HBO-sitcom, though none of the laugh lines are actually funny, and the play is studded with would-be aphorisms that are neither funny, clever nor true. In one respect, at least, the author has internalized Albee's vision: all of his men are weak, and most of his women are harpies or cartoons.

The play also works a distinct vein of pretentiousness. There is an American Indian, symbolic of Those From Whom the Westons Stole the Land, who presides over the family's deterioration from an attic perch. There is literary name-dropping and quotation--T.S. Eliot, John Berryman, Emily Dickinson--vainly deployed to make the evening seem important. There is a ludicrous speech likening the Westons' disharmony to the supposed Decline and Fall of America. (Albee tried something similar in Virginia Woolf, suggesting that George and Martha's squabbling was a phenomenon of Spenglerian proportions).

But while AOC is neither a significant nor a good play, it is not boring either. The camp savagery keeps things humming, and occasionally throws off some genuine sparks--as in the play's best scene and climax, a second-act dinner where the Weston's embittered and cancerous matriarch goads her brood into physical violence. I often walk out on plays, and AOC's double intermissions gave me two opportunities to do so, but I didn't avail myself of either. And there you have the best thing I can say about this celebrated American drama: it didn't drive me out of the theatre.

This play does not live up to the hype. There is nothing new about the play and it appears critics and audience rave about it because it's familiar. With all the twists, turns and family secrets, Mr. Letts has written a soap opera which would fit right in on TV. His finger prints are found on every page. Things happen because the playwright wants them to happen. In a good play, things grow naturally out of the action I found the characters shallow and uninteresting. The Native American caretaker is little more than a obvious symbol. Hasn't the time of the poor person of color coming to the aid of white folks come and gone? Sorry, but quoting T.S. Elliot exposes a shallow play. Once the New York production closes, the play will be done in some regional theaters and a few non-professional theaters; then it will fade away. August: Osage County (what a pretentious title) is not a modern American classic. Better plays are: Long Day's Journey Into Night, A Streetcar Named Desire, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, Death of a Salesmen. They are American classics. As for superior contemporary plays, read: Buried Child, Curse of the Starving Class, Fifth of July, any play by August Wilson, Anna in the Tropics, Two Sisters and a Piano, Angels in America, and Topdog/Underdog, to name just a few. These are the plays that will be read and staged long after AOC is long forgotten.

When The Stern Librarian saw this show in New York recently she heard lot of debate at intermission (both of them!) about whether Tracy Letts has a written a classic to stand with the best of Eugene O'Neill and Tennessee Williams, or whether the play is a Carol Burnett spoof of those masters. Anyone who thinks this play is nothing but a bawdy of exchange of insults and swears (and catfights about catfish) should read the published play. On the page it is abundantly clear that the poetry quoted in the lovely opening scene by the doomed husband finds its messy, human correlative in the scenes that follow, with language so memorable it deserves to be printed on t-shirts and sold in the lobby. This is a masterpiece from beginning to end, from August to tragic December. The Stern Librarian (I get a lot of reading done in the TKTS booth).

Summer and Smoke (and Drinks too)

When The Stern Library saw this show in New York recently she heard lot of debate at intermission (both of them!) about whether Tracy Letts has a written a classic to stand with the best of Eugene O'Neill and Tennessee Williams, or whether the play is a Carol Burnett spoof of those masters. Anyone who think this play is nothing but a bawdy of exchange of insults and swears (and catfights about catfish) should read the published play. On the page it is abundantly clear that the poetry quoted in the lovely opening scene by the doomed husband finds its messy, human correlative in the scenes that follow, with language so memorable it deserves to be printed on t-shirts and sold in the lobby. This is a masterpiece from beginning to end, from August to tragic December. The Stern Librarian (I get a lot of reading done in the TKTS booth).

August: Osage County is literally the most exciting play of the year. I saw the play in early January, and instantly fell in love with it. Which is an odd thing to say considering the plays heavy subject matter. It deals with everything from drug abuse, molestation, suicide and other topics that just by letting you know what they are would be spoilers.

And while it may seem over loaded with serious subjects, it is a play about a family coming together after the loss of a family member and is filled with so much humor, it's hard to believe that it's a drama. Of course most of the laughter comes out of awkwardness of the situation.

This family has their share of problems and they all rise to the surface when shoved together for the funeral. There are dishes broken, marragies ruined and lots of yelling and cursing. If it sounds a little melodramatic, it is. BUT it's written in such a clear, precise way, it transends simple melodrama and becomes something else all together.

My only reservation is that the play is very long. It is three full acts. (Running time was over 3 and a half hours on Broadway) BUT it is so worth it. It is able to cover so much ground because it's thorough and no plot of subject is dropped.

This is going to be a play that will be around for a while. A true ensemble piece, what we've come to expect from Steppenwolf Theatre. It is a Modern American Classic.