An Open Letter To 'NYT' Theater Critic Charles Isherwood
Howdy, Chuck! Hope this little note finds you doing well. Actually, we just read your piece in today's Times and we're certain you're on Cloud 9 right now.
Let's cut to the chase: we know you're in love. You're in the thick of it, that head-over-heels, frothy, delicious love for playwright Will Eno and his new monologue, Thom Pain. And that's great, Chuck, because love is beautiful. But sometimes...well, sometimes love muddles our senses, you know? And it makes us do rash, hasty things. Like, say, filing a theater review without even rereading it to make sure you don't sound like a raving sycophant.
Don't get us wrong, Chuck. We're sincerely happy that you've found passion in the manly arms of a one-hour monologue. We just want to make sure that you take things slowly, because you've let your guard down, you're getting reckless, and we don't want to see you get hurt.
