Arnold Wesker's largely first person account of his notorious Broadway flop is a slow burn that pays off in spades, gaining dramatic momentum rather ironically once the titular Zero Mostel is dead and the production, bereft of its star, becomes the scene of a battle between the author and the director, John Dexter. Playing out much like the conflict between Shylock and Antonio in both Wesker and Shakespeare's version of the story, Arnold and John vacillate between being friends, frenemies, and ultimately rivals in a spiral that is as tragic as it seems inevitable. Along the way supporting characters (who are mostly in the supporting cast of the production) get caught up in the crossfire, including Roberta Maxwell, Gloria Gifford, Julie Murphy, and Everett McGill, and Wesker details (sometimes to exhuastion) the grueling and often humiliating process of trying to retain one's artistic integrity in the commercial theatre world, itself presented as fickle, materialist, and entirely too reliant on prestige over finding and connecting with audiences. Outliving Dexter by a decade at the time of writing (two by the time Wesker died) his final reflections are poignant, the confessions of a man able to see his own blindnesses and even apologize for them, but far too late to save the friendship with a collaborator and fellow genius. It's a story that is all too common in the world of artists of any medium, at once entirely familiar and utterly unique in its details, and a fascinating case study in how in our bid for Art, we often fall prey to the very behaviors our work seeks to critique or illuminate.