The Fossil watch company shall be hearing from my attorneys in short order. At the conclusion of a performance of Disco Pigs (at the Irish Rep through March 4), the timepiece on my wrist indicated that only seventy-five minutes had passed. Preposterous. Surely seventy-five hours had gone by, hence my forthcoming legal claim against the watch manufacturer. I will be seeking punitive damages as well as recompense for the days lost in a combination of disbelief, disgust, and boredom while the play droned on in a monotone of studied surliness.

Written by Enda Walsh and first staged in 1997, the two-hander set in a small Irish city aims to sound “like a load of instruments being thrown down a cliff while they’re still being played,” in the playwright’s words to his director, John Haidar. Mission accomplished, chaps. The putative...

 

A Message from the Editors

Our past successes are owed to our greatest ambassadors: our readers. Our future rests on your support, as The New Criterion Editor Roger Kimball explains. Will you help us continue to bring our incisive review of the arts and culture to the next generation of readers?

Popular Right Now