| “When it’s noon in purgatory, it’s dusk in Morocco.” Which pretty much sums up DES MOINES, a wry bit of naturalism cum absurdism from Denis Johnson who’s best known as a novelist. There’s a lot thrown into the air here but, despite valiant playing all around, little lands. Everyone is hopped up, desperate to find some distance from sorrows that can’t be shed. The play grows increasingly strange—and more interesting as it does so—but it’s irresolute. Grief, it turns out, can be denied, but it’s never really risible. Though DES MOINES is admirably bold, it's neither daft nor dark enough. |
