Nice Fish at the ART/then St. Ann's — Page 2

I saw this with my boyfriend on the 20th. It was his Christmas gift, as he's a fan of Jenkins and we both love Rylance. Neither of us were crazy about it, though he liked it more than I did. I admit, I dozed off around the hour mark (after checking the time a little before that). The last 12 minutes or so achieve a theatrical loveliness that I wish the whole production had reached. But it was too late for me by then.

If you like the stream-of-consciousness oeuvre that is Jenkins' poetry, you'll probably find yourself enjoying this. I found it tiresome, tedious, and up its own ass.

I would think the chances of that happening are equivalent to Hell freezing over. Then again, somebody thought Hughie belonged on Broadway.