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Theres both a lot and very little happening in Kenneth LonergansThe Waverly Gallery.
With an ear like a tape recorder, Lonergan follows the descent of a woman into dementia.
[This] really happened to her, he says, and it seems like somebody should remember it.
For a while, the experience of watchingThe Waverly Gallerycan feel like cognitive dissonance.
Whats strange, at least for a time, is the raucous laugh track.
The audience around me came ready for comedy, and Mays every quip brought guffaws and sometimes even ovations.
Perhaps its the inevitability:The Waverly Gallerys trajectory is clear from its opening moments.
Gladyss mind will fall apart, is already falling apart, and we will watch it happen.
Almost certainly we will.
Theres nothing wicked about that.
Were liberal Upper West Side atheistic Jewish intellectuals, says Dan, and the home crowd goes wild.
Its Joan Allen, though, whos up there with May, giving the show its heartbeat.
Neugebauer and May precisely locate each beat of Gladyss disappearance as the person she once was.
Nobody wants to hear that!
The Waverly Galleryis at the John Golden Theatre.
