I always enjoy that thing you do.
And I can put my hand over my heart and proclaim before the host of heaven that I know Tony Isbell.
Mmm, hummingbird eyelashes. . .
Maybe you're right about Ms Olsen's accent being over the top, I said what I said only because for many years in the good old Soviet Union days I worked in New York for a Russian resettlement organization and was up to my eyeballs in wretched Ukrainian refuse throughout the Reagan years. Ms Olsen's accent took me right back to the Reagan years. The accent was dead on, and thank God Reagan is too.
I certainly agree with you about the text of the play straining its own strained credulity with that business about a dying man bequeathing a nearby salt shaker to someone who was the salt of the earth; though, to be sure, my own sainted mother, as she lay upon her bed of death, drew my face close to hers and whispered these dying words, "Theatre critics don't know sh*t. Pass it on." Her very words.
Ms Olsen's accent is not only authentic and accurate, it is accurately Ukrainian, in consequence of several months of her life Ms Olsen spent in that country. Anyone familiar with Russian accents would recognize it as so. Mr Davis may be an insightful theatre critic, but should make no pretences to expertise in language arts.
Ms Poletti's performance touched all the right notes of perplexity and near unbalance, and witnessing it was a highlight of my brief trip to Memphis last week.
By Hannah Sayle, Chris Herrington, Chris Shaw, Louis Goggans, Greg Akers, Bruce VanWyngarden, Jackson Baker and John Branston
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