Far From Brooklyn

Dead Man’s Cell Phone, by Sara Ruhl

Ultimately it’s less than satisfying to read a play rather than see it performed, and that was the case with this play.  I think I “get” why Ruhl is the queen bee in the theater world these days, but reading this text gives only a shadowy sense of her intelligence and the offbeat cadences of her sentences.

I knew that would be my reaction to this volume but I had such interesting things about her, and I knew I would be unlikely to see a production of her work any time soon (this being Los Angeles) so the printed word seemed like the only way to go.