Save this article to read it later.
Find this story in your accountsSaved for Latersection.
Heres where I have to admit that I never finished readingA Little Life.
The wealth and success are like gauze around a seeping wound.
(Its like aHungry Hungry Hipposboard, but with trauma.)
There is a ritualistic feeling to the experience.
A quartet called BL!NDMAN [strings] accompanies the pain with plaintive harmonics.
You would be entirely forgiven for finding that all just too much.
When I saw the performance, there were walkouts nearly throughout.
By the second act, as things get crueler yet, some of the abstracted staging felt simply absurd.
Its a sacrificial story for a time without God, but with PrEP, puff pastries, andArchitectural Digest.
(Van Hove at least had that withThe Damned.)
This pain is collectible.
Its just another objet dart.
