Kafka's Dick closed today, ending a seven-week run in rep with The House Of Yes, which has been extended another week.
There has never, in the whole of my career, been such a wide gulf between the critical and audience accolades we received and the absolute fiasco that I anticipated toward the end of the rehearsal process. I still can't say that I agree the production was as successful as the rest of the world thinks, but I'm ready to acknowledge that there's a lot I don't know.
I feel like George Bernard Shaw at the premiere of Arms And The Man. The final curtain brought thunderous cheering and applause, but as Shaw stepped out for the curtain speech, one single piercing "Boo!" Shaw's reply: "I agree with you, sir, but who are we to argue against so many?"
About half the time, we had small audiences of statues who tittered awkwardly, applauded at the end purely out of obligation, and got the hell out of there. Those shows were purgatorial, for us and for them. The rest of the time, the place was packed, they laughed at everything, and bubbled over with enthusiasm upon greeting us in the lobby. Those shows were awesome. After seven weeks, however, we were all ready to put it to bed.
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