True West

I am not sure people read plays much any more, but reading Sam Shepard's True West in about 45 minutes was a vastly more rewarding experience than sitting through an ineptly directed production later that day. This play is, on reading, full of laughs; nearly all of them were drained from the po-faced performance I saw. O'Neill's Strange Interlude, on its face a solemn piece, was played for laughs in a recent London production, to much acclaim. Theater, especially the local pseudo-professional kind, needs a much more Rabelasian attitude.