| Mostly air. This is an attempt to explore the relationship between Diaghilev and Nijinsky but McNally has nothing original to say about it. Instead, we get a sort of bullet-point play that explains a lot of this history in precis form without really animating any of it. Douglas Hodge thrashes around the stage as if he were in an antic musical comedy--well, Diaghilev was a producer--and everyone else watches sympathetically. As is typical of Doyle, the stage is mostly bare which just disadvantages everyone. The play is scant enough, having the middle aged actors roll around the floor just seems silly. This is a facile, depthless piece of work. Art and desire are correspondent practices, of course, but McNally--who often trails into cliche--illuminates neither. |
