I couldn't understand much of the dialog as screeched by the lady actors. I barely understood a word of Julie White's opening monologue. Was it the combination of the screeching and the bad British accent -- or was it something worse? I had my hearing aides on and I was in the 8th row, but the words often didn't make sense to me. It was like trying to read a John Ashbery poem. I mean I got the drift, but . . . Did others find this difficult to understand or am I experiencing on-set dementia? I understood all the words of Ink the following night, so I'm pretty sure I have retained some of my marbles.
And, P.S., try as I have to give Nathan Lane the benefit of the doubt over and over again, Gary was it for me. No more productions with Nathan Lane. I have seen his full arsenal (repeatedly) and I'm done with him.