WORM TEETH is a raucous, weird and wild fable equally obsessed with violence and adorable, fuzzy-wuzzy cuteness. “Twee body-horror” isn’t a genre I ever imagined existing, but after reading this play, I can’t imagine a world without it.
We often forget that “play” is a verb. Kelsey Sullivan’s play does just that. It revels in joyful audience interaction which lets us in to her surreal playground and invites us to join in on the game. Beneath the free-wheeling fun, there lies a lingering question: in a brutal world, is it okay to be soft?
WORM TEETH is a raucous, weird and wild fable equally obsessed with violence and adorable, fuzzy-wuzzy cuteness. “Twee body-horror” isn’t a genre I ever imagined existing, but after reading this play, I can’t imagine a world without it.
We often forget that “play” is a verb. Kelsey Sullivan’s play does just that. It revels in joyful audience interaction which lets us in to her surreal playground and invites us to join in on the game. Beneath the free-wheeling fun, there lies a lingering question: in a brutal world, is it okay to be soft?