The sudden violence in this piece makes me think of the excellent film Children of Men. The comedy reminds me of Urinetown. But this play is uniquely its own. I would never think a tense dystopian piece would suddenly mention vore--that sent me cackling. Prillaman is a master craftsman, deftly weaving tension and release at all the best moments, never letting you guess when the comedy might turn explosive or devastating. Art, even vapid, stupid art, can save us. It's a respite from that desire to die. What lengths do we go to protect it? To admire it? To live?
The sudden violence in this piece makes me think of the excellent film Children of Men. The comedy reminds me of Urinetown. But this play is uniquely its own. I would never think a tense dystopian piece would suddenly mention vore--that sent me cackling. Prillaman is a master craftsman, deftly weaving tension and release at all the best moments, never letting you guess when the comedy might turn explosive or devastating. Art, even vapid, stupid art, can save us. It's a respite from that desire to die. What lengths do we go to protect it? To admire it? To live?