This play is what despair feels like. Using characters and situations we've come to care about and hope for throughout the excellent Second World Trilogy, Sickles stares hard at inevitability and the end times we've written for ourselves, and makes us look at it, too. The apocalypse here truly feels like Ragnarok in scale, terrifying in its inescapability, and yet, as Sickles guides us into the darkness, there's a chill sense of comfort. As the temperature drops, one feels a sensation of warmth. That's what this play, and really the whole trilogy, is like.
This play is what despair feels like. Using characters and situations we've come to care about and hope for throughout the excellent Second World Trilogy, Sickles stares hard at inevitability and the end times we've written for ourselves, and makes us look at it, too. The apocalypse here truly feels like Ragnarok in scale, terrifying in its inescapability, and yet, as Sickles guides us into the darkness, there's a chill sense of comfort. As the temperature drops, one feels a sensation of warmth. That's what this play, and really the whole trilogy, is like.