At a glance this looked like a daunting read (nine characters, only identified by their jersey number), and then I was blown away by how quickly I eased into who is speaking when and why. The Wolves is as deeply realized a play about young women can be. The language is frantic and messy yet so precise, it breaks the rules in so many fascinating ways, and the ending is so deeply affecting in its indirectness. It's hilarious, it's ugly, it's beautiful, it's heart-squeezing.
At a glance this looked like a daunting read (nine characters, only identified by their jersey number), and then I was blown away by how quickly I eased into who is speaking when and why. The Wolves is as deeply realized a play about young women can be. The language is frantic and messy yet so precise, it breaks the rules in so many fascinating ways, and the ending is so deeply affecting in its indirectness. It's hilarious, it's ugly, it's beautiful, it's heart-squeezing.