Boston Marriage...

...or, Mamet does... OppositelandMamet!

David Mamet writes plays. He is famous for writing plays. In Theatreland, a land of showtunes, arty pieces about the death of the ego, catty pieces about queers like me, and carefully-constructed art of language, Mamet is the fucking king-- and he's the king of the fucking fuck play. He's king of the straight guy play, where people get dirty and say fuck a lot. Women appear in his plays only as something to complain about. Mamet's plays are film noir, without the film and without the noir, leaving only a grating attitude problem.

And Boston Marriage is about two well-spoken turn of the century Sapphists and their Irish ("Scottish, muss!") maid. It is supposed to be an ommidge (which is like porridge made with scrambled eggs and cheese) to Oscar Wilde. The dialogue is richly textured, flowery, learned, bitingly catty. Very Wildean. With the occasional line of genuine Mamet dropped in ("Evil old bitch" and "pagan slut" come to mind as a mild example) to remind us who wrote this shining gem of literacy.

I saw it at the Asolo. It closes Sunday, so if you live in Sarasota, run and see it tonight. It's amazing.