I've been a fan of Lanford Wilson's work ever since I saw one of his early one-acts at the legendary Caffe Cino in New York in the mid-1960s. It might have been This Is the Rill Speaking, and I think it played in tandem with Sam Shepard's Icarus's Mother. I went only because Wilson's play featured an extraordinarily handsome actor whose attentions I, along with half my acting class, craved. But I left...amazed. Astonished. Galvanized. Converted. Accustomed to well-made, three-act plays, plays in which characters gave long, impassioned speeches describing their feelings and motivations, I really hadn't understood that theater could be so elliptical and so immediate. I didn't know that what I'd witnessed was part of a rebirth and a revitalization of American theater, but I did know that the words and rhythms were buzzing against the bones of my forehead as I left; the imagery embedded itself in my consciousness and has stayed... More >>>