Virginia Woolf

Come on!

Edward Albee’s Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf was first seen in New York City just three months after I was born?

This is nuts.

I saw it for the first time in its entirety this weekend at The Ahmanson with Kathleen Turner, Bill Irwin, David Furr and Kathleen Early. Directed by Anthony Page.

It was so good. The writing. The writing. The writing. Stunned, really.

Everyone knows the movie. And I love the movie, of course. But the real thing, the real thing, the real thing!

Must be seen.

What they do so brilliantly in this production is they make everyone human. Vulnerable. They are mean and bitter and sad and aggressive and nasty as ever, Martha and George are, but they are not impervious. They get stung. And it hurts. And they counterattack for their lives.

It is truly brilliant.

Knowing that Edward Albee was adopted and that this play is ultimately about the dashed lives of a childless couple reconfirms my theory that the best stuff really is all just autobiography—though, artfully presented.

The language. Film can’t do that. Only theatre can do that. Film can fuss with it a little bit. But language stuff often comes off as annoying in film.

Kathleen Turner was brilliant to do this play at this point in her career.

The whole cast was at a perfect pitch. (Though Kathleen Early as Honey seemed to be channeling Sandy Dennis a bit. Too bad. But her humanity and her drunkeness were all there.)

If it hadn’t closed today, I’d say go see it. If it is revived again with the same cast or some other, go see that one.

Inspiring to see something that amazing. The language so shockingly great. The whole play so intense and so realized.

From before even Kennedy’s assassination. Genius stuff. Good times.