In fairness I thought the first act was first rate comedy but thereafter it didn’t really have anywhere to go (and yet it went on for three hours). As it shifted gears towards tragedy it lost its way. The dramatic pretensions were just that – pretensions. Byron is a fun character but I just didn’t buy into the vague allusions to mystical Albion. At all. By the time Byron’s son reappears with impossible convenience the self-indulgence and waywardness really grates. And yet at that exact scene the young woman sitting next to me was crying real tears. Mystifying.

Why the critical love-in? The perceived edginess of the Royal Court? The modernity of the script’s language and touchstones? The strength of the lead performance? Perhaps, but surely someone would have revelled in the chance to buck the consensus and take a stand for common sense? Anyone with a critical eye could see the play was much too long, unfocused, and, frankly, shallow. The critics (and much of the middle class, middle aged audience) somehow fell for this Rooster Byron, but if they found him living near their house (and their children) they would doubtless be horrified. All rather mystifying.

Still, I think it’s worth seeing for the early comedy and a beguiling central performance, so long as you keep one eyebrow arched.

No doubt it will be hitting the American shores at some point. I wonder if they’ll be as befuddled as we were. Of course, they love Phantom as much there as people do here. I’ve long given up trying to predict this stuff. We’re the only people we know who have walked out on Helen Mirren–twice.

Sounds as though the “kitchen sink school” has moved outdoors – to ill effect. Although I will admit that that group did have something to say – it just wasn’t very deep or interesting, long term….

One wonders if the theater going public is so easily fooled by the emperor’s new clothes here because no one really wants to address the sense of oncoming evil that is shadowing so much of 21st century life these days. And embracing Butterworth’s confused ramblings is a way to claim to “see” what they don’t – that England, like America, is in a process of devolution/disintegration that no one yet has courage to write/act/make art about honestly yet – because it’s too fearsome and/or painful to face….

I keep looking at the mad embrace of all things metaphysical – from magicians like Harry Potter to vampires like that “Twilight” twit – and I see some mad desire to find good in uncertainty – nice sorcerers, loving vampires, etc. And what I see is desperation – sort of, to put it in typically Western Judeo-Christian terminology, to say to oneself: “Well, maybe hell won’t be so bad….”

Yes it will. And unless our artists stand up and say so, who will?

Rewarding those artists who obfuscate, as this artist seems to be doing, is like listening to that guy mumbling to himself in the subway and proclaiming him a prophet.

Thanks for taking him on, Wuf….