Really, Ronin? I've always found Mr. Feingold's reviews to be rather one-dimensional and unstimulating. He reminds me a lot of Margo Jefferson, the former second-string critic for the Times, whose reviews were rather condescending, professorial and meaningless.
And yes, Yankee, this review goes far and beyond criticism. It
does come off as if there's something personal here that he's exercising.
ETA: I was just reading a thread about this on All That Chat, were a poster made an astute observation: If someone like John Simon had written this review, people would be saying what a bastard he is. The review is incredibly cruel for no good reason.
"You travel alone because other people are only there to remind you how much that hook hurts that we all bit down on. Wait for that one day we can bite free and get back out there in space where we belong, sail back over water, over skies, into space, the hook finally out of our mouths and we wander back out there in space spawning to other planets never to return hurrah to earth and we'll look back and can't even see these lives here anymore. Only the taste of blood to remind us we ever existed. The earth is small. We're gone. We're dead. We're safe."
-John Guare, Landscape of the Body
Updated On: 1/17/07 at 08:16 AM