Went with my Japanese friend H to see the revival of Margaret Edson's sublime play "Wit" on Broadway last night. I was lucky enough to see the original production with Kathleen Chalfant, its final scene indelible in my memory, her character too, and it's a different story with the younger-seeming Cynthia Nixon (I'm also closer than I was then to the age of the protagonist, who's forty-seven). It's none the less amazing as a piece of theater, as my friend's profoundly appreciative reaction attests. (She's a theater person but her English is shaky; what compelled her wasn't verbal ingenuity but the show's theatricality.)
If you've seen the play - and if you haven't, you should - you might know what
The Runaway Bunny is doing here. Amazingly, I'd forgotten the scene, and was tearfully grateful to be reminded of it. Awash in tears.
If you've seen the play - and if you haven't, you should - you might know what The Runaway Bunny is doing here. Amazingly, I'd forgotten the scene, and was tearfully grateful to be reminded of it. Awash in tears.