I don’t have the faintest idea what some of my favorite experiences at the theater were about. To name just some recent ones: Romeo Castellucci’s “Tragedia Endogonidia” in Montclair? No clue. Daniel Veronese’s opaque production of Chekhov’s “Three Sisters” at Lincoln Center Festival a couple of years ago? I couldn’t follow it but it felt completely alive.
As Lyn Gardner writes in a recent post for the “Guardian,” “Often, the most exciting shows are those that come back to haunt you a few weeks or even months later, when you are doing something else entirely or seeing a completely different show.”
“Going to the theatre shouldn’t be a test,” she continues, “and writing a review isn’t the same as doing an exam. There’s not a right or wrong answer; often you don’t even know what the question is.”
It’s a fallacy that there’s only way to get a show, or that you need to understand it to enjoy it. Do you understand a Jackson Pollock painting? Some theater is experiential: You feel it in your guts. And at least questions tend to linger. You understand every second of “Rock of Ages,” but nothing’s left behind.