In Which Your Humble Blogger makes them all pay.
In Which Your Humble Blogger is undeserving, and means to go on being undeserving. I loike it, and ’at’s the troof.
In Which there is something Your Humble Blogger didn’t know, the silly ass.
In Which a Gentle Reader asks Your Humble Blogger for assistance from Gentle Readers.
In Which Your Humble Blogger, despite having decided that Mr. Mamet’s brain-dead screed wasn’t worth either arguing with or analyzing, steps into the dog shit.
In Which Your Humble Blogger seeks support and assistance from the Gentle Readers, who are, you know, Gentle, which is nice for me.
In Which Your Humble Blogger removes his glasses and—excuse me, ma’am—is revealed to be—whoops! No, I’ll clean that up—is revealed to be none other than—aaarrrrgh….
My Gracious Host listed a Top Six theatrical performances, which got me thinking. Sadly, I couldn’t come up with a Top Five, so here is a Top Four. Copenhagen, by Michael Frayn, with David Burke, Matthew Marsh and Sara Kestelman….
In Which Your Humble Acquaintance gives a lesson in handling a temperamental beast.
Well, and there are roughly (and inaccurately) speaking, two major schools of thought in America about acting. I tend to call them the English and the Russian school; they are also called Technique and Method, and various other names as…