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Fuddy Meers
When Fuddy Meers opened at the Manhattan Theatre Club in the fall of 1999, it earned the kind of raves that a promising young playwright dreams about. Writing in the New York Observer, John Heilpern called him some kind of comic genius. And after its sold-out run at MTC, the play moved downtown to the Minetta Lane Theatre for an open-ended commercial engagement.
Fuddy Meers revolves around an amnesiac, Claire, who wakes up every morning as a blank slate, on which her family must imprint the facts of her life. On this particular day, the shenanigans begin with Claire being abducted by a limping man who claims to be her brother trying to save her from her evil husband. They drive to the home of her mother, who has had a stroke that left her aphasic (her attempt to say funny mirrors provides the play's title. The ensuing mayhem is both deliriously funny and oddly touching.
Fuddy Meers revolves around an amnesiac, Claire, who wakes up every morning as a blank slate, on which her family must imprint the facts of her life. On this particular day, the shenanigans begin with Claire being abducted by a limping man who claims to be her brother trying to save her from her evil husband. They drive to the home of her mother, who has had a stroke that left her aphasic (her attempt to say funny mirrors provides the play's title. The ensuing mayhem is both deliriously funny and oddly touching.
72 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2000
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336 people want to read
About the author
David Lindsay-Abaire
20 books68 followersDavid Lindsay-Abaire is an American playwright and lyricist. He received the Pulitzer Prize for Drama in 2007 for his play, Rabbit Hole.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 45 reviews
December 23, 2025
Five full laughs lined up neatly beside five bright stars
You don’t need to look up ‘fuddy meers’ or rack your brain trying to decode it; it’s just the way an elderly woman recovering from a stroke pronounces ‘funny mirrors,’ and that mispronunciation becomes a perfect metaphor for the world you’re about to enter. Everything here is recognizable, but bent, stretched, and skewed just enough to make you laugh, wince, and lean in closer. Lindsay-Abaire signals from the start that this is a funhouse version of domestic life, where the familiar is distorted and the distorted feels strangely familiar.
At the center of this warped carnival is Claire, a woman who wakes up every morning with no memory of who she is. Her daily amnesia turns her into a perpetual newcomer in her own life, and the audience shares her disorientation as she encounters a parade of characters who seem to have wandered in from different corners of the theatrical universe. There’s the limping man, with a lisping speech and a crooked body, a jittery teen whose chaotic energy suggests a long-term relationship with bad decisions, and a man who communicates through a hand puppet as if outsourcing his emotional life to felt and foam. These characters aren’t just quirky; they’re deliberately, gleefully strange, and their oddities create a world where every interaction feels both hilarious and faintly dangerous. And because the play thrives on surprise, it’s best to meet them the way Claire does —without preparation, and without any guarantee that what they say is true.
What makes Fuddy Meers more than a collection of eccentric personalities is the precision of its structure and the intelligence of its language. The “memory resets every day” premise isn’t new — cinema and literature have played with it before — but Lindsay-Abaire’s approach is entirely his own. He uses the device not as a sentimental gimmick but as a theatrical engine, a way to propel scenes into chaos and clarity at the same time. The dialogue is full of verbal detours, misfires, and linguistic oddities that feel both comic and revealing. The play’s architecture is tight, clever, and surprisingly elegant beneath all the absurdity, and the humor never comes at the expense of craft.
On the surface, the play is a riot of silly violence, mistaken identities, frantic chases, and characters who seem to be operating on different frequencies. But underneath the slapstick is a quieter, more resonant layer. The story becomes a meditation on self-discovery, on the fragile scaffolding of affection, and on the ways people try — and often fail — to support one another. Lindsay-Abaire hides these themes beneath the noise, letting them emerge gradually, almost accidentally, as if the emotional truth is another surprise waiting around the corner.
One of the play’s most impressive tricks is its use of communication breakdown as both comedy and commentary. Every character has a different kind of static in their signal — physical, emotional, psychological, linguistic — and the result is a symphony of misfires. They talk past each other, around each other, or through puppets, and the misunderstandings pile up until they become their own form of logic. It’s hilarious, but it also mirrors something deeply recognizable: the way modern people, even in the same room, often fail to truly connect. The comedy becomes a cracked mirror reflecting our own fractured conversations.
By the time the title circles back into focus, its meaning feels richer. “Funny mirrors” aren’t just carnival props; they’re the play’s worldview. Everything is slightly off, slightly warped, slightly exaggerated — not to distort reality beyond recognition, but to reveal the strange beauty in its imperfections. Lindsay-Abaire invites us to look at ordinary life through a skewed lens, and in doing so, he makes the ordinary feel newly alive.
The plot unfolds as a series of surprises, each reveal stranger and more satisfying than the last. Every time you think you’ve found the play’s center, it tilts again. The pleasure is in the discovery — in watching the puzzle assemble itself in real time, in seeing how the distortions eventually form a coherent picture. Fuddy Meers is a funhouse, yes, but it’s also a reminder that even the most warped reflections can tell the truth.
You don’t need to look up ‘fuddy meers’ or rack your brain trying to decode it; it’s just the way an elderly woman recovering from a stroke pronounces ‘funny mirrors,’ and that mispronunciation becomes a perfect metaphor for the world you’re about to enter. Everything here is recognizable, but bent, stretched, and skewed just enough to make you laugh, wince, and lean in closer. Lindsay-Abaire signals from the start that this is a funhouse version of domestic life, where the familiar is distorted and the distorted feels strangely familiar.
At the center of this warped carnival is Claire, a woman who wakes up every morning with no memory of who she is. Her daily amnesia turns her into a perpetual newcomer in her own life, and the audience shares her disorientation as she encounters a parade of characters who seem to have wandered in from different corners of the theatrical universe. There’s the limping man, with a lisping speech and a crooked body, a jittery teen whose chaotic energy suggests a long-term relationship with bad decisions, and a man who communicates through a hand puppet as if outsourcing his emotional life to felt and foam. These characters aren’t just quirky; they’re deliberately, gleefully strange, and their oddities create a world where every interaction feels both hilarious and faintly dangerous. And because the play thrives on surprise, it’s best to meet them the way Claire does —without preparation, and without any guarantee that what they say is true.
What makes Fuddy Meers more than a collection of eccentric personalities is the precision of its structure and the intelligence of its language. The “memory resets every day” premise isn’t new — cinema and literature have played with it before — but Lindsay-Abaire’s approach is entirely his own. He uses the device not as a sentimental gimmick but as a theatrical engine, a way to propel scenes into chaos and clarity at the same time. The dialogue is full of verbal detours, misfires, and linguistic oddities that feel both comic and revealing. The play’s architecture is tight, clever, and surprisingly elegant beneath all the absurdity, and the humor never comes at the expense of craft.
On the surface, the play is a riot of silly violence, mistaken identities, frantic chases, and characters who seem to be operating on different frequencies. But underneath the slapstick is a quieter, more resonant layer. The story becomes a meditation on self-discovery, on the fragile scaffolding of affection, and on the ways people try — and often fail — to support one another. Lindsay-Abaire hides these themes beneath the noise, letting them emerge gradually, almost accidentally, as if the emotional truth is another surprise waiting around the corner.
One of the play’s most impressive tricks is its use of communication breakdown as both comedy and commentary. Every character has a different kind of static in their signal — physical, emotional, psychological, linguistic — and the result is a symphony of misfires. They talk past each other, around each other, or through puppets, and the misunderstandings pile up until they become their own form of logic. It’s hilarious, but it also mirrors something deeply recognizable: the way modern people, even in the same room, often fail to truly connect. The comedy becomes a cracked mirror reflecting our own fractured conversations.
By the time the title circles back into focus, its meaning feels richer. “Funny mirrors” aren’t just carnival props; they’re the play’s worldview. Everything is slightly off, slightly warped, slightly exaggerated — not to distort reality beyond recognition, but to reveal the strange beauty in its imperfections. Lindsay-Abaire invites us to look at ordinary life through a skewed lens, and in doing so, he makes the ordinary feel newly alive.
The plot unfolds as a series of surprises, each reveal stranger and more satisfying than the last. Every time you think you’ve found the play’s center, it tilts again. The pleasure is in the discovery — in watching the puzzle assemble itself in real time, in seeing how the distortions eventually form a coherent picture. Fuddy Meers is a funhouse, yes, but it’s also a reminder that even the most warped reflections can tell the truth.
August 3, 2015
A frenetic comedy with some really great roles for character actors. I laughed continuously, from beginning to end.
I'm not sure exactly what kind of audience it is written for, though. I could see a college or university audience laughing at a lot of the frank observations of reality, the drug humour, the sloppy violence, and strange puppets. But then I could see a very haughty, artsy audience getting into the more absurdist, bizarre elements of the show as well as some of the more sharpened humour. In the end, I think this show would play well in a small, off-off theatre in an world-class urban centre. I'm not sure it would do well in a small-town venue... although, it would certainly push some boundaries.
3.5/5
I'm not sure exactly what kind of audience it is written for, though. I could see a college or university audience laughing at a lot of the frank observations of reality, the drug humour, the sloppy violence, and strange puppets. But then I could see a very haughty, artsy audience getting into the more absurdist, bizarre elements of the show as well as some of the more sharpened humour. In the end, I think this show would play well in a small, off-off theatre in an world-class urban centre. I'm not sure it would do well in a small-town venue... although, it would certainly push some boundaries.
3.5/5
July 2, 2022
This play is a comedy and does a very, very good job of being funny. However I have some personal fears of a lot of the themes brought up here, and I found that hard to cope with.
I found a decent amount of the material triggering, and wish I had known what I would read beforehand. So I will post a trigger warning here for some of the heavier themes that may be harder to deal with. Slight chance of mild spoilers, but if you don't want that, you don't have to read this part.
TW: talk of domestic violence/abuse, strokes, child death, dog death
I found a decent amount of the material triggering, and wish I had known what I would read beforehand. So I will post a trigger warning here for some of the heavier themes that may be harder to deal with. Slight chance of mild spoilers, but if you don't want that, you don't have to read this part.
TW: talk of domestic violence/abuse, strokes, child death, dog death
June 18, 2012
I am a massive fan of Lindsay-Abaire's Pulitzer-winning play "Rabbit Hole", and decided to read his earlier works. Fuddy Meers is the third of his early plays that I’ve read this year. The plot focuses on a middle-aged woman named Claire with psychogenic amnesia – that is, she wakes up each morning with no recollection of who she is, who the people in her life are, and what happened in her past. This medical condition frames the structure of the entire play, as the reader is left to uncover Claire’s current and past lives at the same time she does. We are then quickly introduced to a random set of characters in her life: a man who claims to be her husband (who may or may not have a dark past), her 17-year-old drug addict son, a man who claims to be her brother (who is half-blind and half-deaf), her mother (who speaks in barely discernible English because she recently had a stroke), and an escaped convict with a puppet on one hand. Like Claire, we don’t know who to trust, what their motives are, nor why they all seem to want Claire to come with them. Overall, this is my least favorite Lindsay-Abaire play. The characters are all absurdly contrived, and it seemed like Lindsay-Abaire was throwing every different attribute he could think of for his characters: stroke victim, crazy guy with a puppet, amnesia, secret histories, etc. I’m fine with wholly weird plays, but there was no connection with most of these attributes to the rest of the play; they are random to be random. There was also no depth or emotional core in this play. I found this a very shallow read, and not nearly as funny or witty as the other three plays by the author that I have read. The play is set up so you want to know more about Claire and her life, but none of it worked for me, and for most of it, I simply didn’t care about Claire or her past, defeating the whole purpose of the play. This one is a pass for me.
June 21, 2012
What do you get when you have a person who wakes up completely forgetting everything from before; a thief with a lisp, a blind eye, and deaf in one ear; a grandmother with a stroke; a dumb criminal who talks through a hand puppet; and horrible secrets? You get a David Lindsay-Abaire play, that's what you get.
Fuddy Meers takes all of these elements and tries to tie them together piece by piece in the midst of strong feelings of hatred from lots of the characters. That is, we get madcap energy mixed with pain and longing with a healthy dollop of general confusion all meant to elicit laughter and tears. Well, laughter definitely (this is the "in spite of what's actually happening I'm laughing" type of laughter too). Tears, heart-string pulls ... not so much. There's too much wild and crazy and not enough down to earth time. I mean, even though the Jeff character from Kimberly Akimbo had his idiosyncrasies and a crazy family, he was still able to act as a center of gravity along with the titular character in that play. For Fuddy Meers, though, our lead character doesn't know what is going on and we get the rest of the play from her perspective: weird sound effects coming out of the recesses of her mind, trying to balance the multitude of lies from the convoluted truths that can never just be said and a constant disorientation (like looking in a Funhouse Mirror) that actually prevents the reader (maybe not the audience, but definitely the reader) from getting an emotional connection to the craziness.
Anyway, I would watch this play. But that's about it.
Fuddy Meers takes all of these elements and tries to tie them together piece by piece in the midst of strong feelings of hatred from lots of the characters. That is, we get madcap energy mixed with pain and longing with a healthy dollop of general confusion all meant to elicit laughter and tears. Well, laughter definitely (this is the "in spite of what's actually happening I'm laughing" type of laughter too). Tears, heart-string pulls ... not so much. There's too much wild and crazy and not enough down to earth time. I mean, even though the Jeff character from Kimberly Akimbo had his idiosyncrasies and a crazy family, he was still able to act as a center of gravity along with the titular character in that play. For Fuddy Meers, though, our lead character doesn't know what is going on and we get the rest of the play from her perspective: weird sound effects coming out of the recesses of her mind, trying to balance the multitude of lies from the convoluted truths that can never just be said and a constant disorientation (like looking in a Funhouse Mirror) that actually prevents the reader (maybe not the audience, but definitely the reader) from getting an emotional connection to the craziness.
Anyway, I would watch this play. But that's about it.
April 4, 2019
Fuddy Meers is about a women named Claire Fiffle. Claire has a form of amnesia. The form she has makes it so every day when she wakes up, she cannot remember anything from the past day. At the start of the play, she wakes up and her husband, Richard Fiffle, is standing over her. He explains that she has amnesia and that every day she wakes up as a blank slate. He also reveals that they have the same conversation all the time. Then Richard goes to take a shower. While he is doing this a man with a lisp comes to the window and convinces Claire to go with him by telling her that her husband wants to kill her. The Limping Man, as he is called in the play, drives Claire to her mother's house. her mother had just had a stroke so when she talked you could not understand what she was saying. There Claire meets Millet and his puppet Hinky-Dinky. The puppet has a bad "pottymouth" as Claire says. While all this is happening Richard sees that Claire is gone. He and his son go to find her. While they are trying to find her. They run into a cop who tries to arrest them. Richard, who has been taking martial art classes, disarms her and takes her gun. He threatens the cop so she comes with them They continue driving with the cop. Back at the house, Claire is playing with Millet in the basement. Claire's mother has been a pleasant backdrop to all of this. Even though you cannot understand her, she is funny and loving. Claire's mom is actually the reason for the title "Fuddy Meers." She was talking to Claire about a carnival when she says "Fuddy Meers!" meaning funny mirrors. This is my favorite part. At the end of the play Claire has remembered much of her past, making it less confusing for me. I read this in one sitting. It is very scary and it kept me on my toes the whole time. This was written in the form of a play so it was easier to read for me. I recommend this to people who want a fast but challenging read. -Sam Kuntz
January 13, 2016
F***!
Wow what a roller coaster of a play. The action is high and the plot is compelling the entire time. When the situation wasn't dire, there was just brief, HYSTERICAL character exposition. Throughout the entire thing, the reader has to figure out what the HECK is going on and who the HELL these people are; there are hilarious characters, one of whom is a limping, disfigured, but enthusiastic man who speaks with a very pronounced lisp, one is an elderly woman who speaks garbled "stroke-talk", and there are profound moments of catharsis within the play. Amazing and I wish I could watch it. At least twice.
I'm reading more by this author.
Awesome!
Wow what a roller coaster of a play. The action is high and the plot is compelling the entire time. When the situation wasn't dire, there was just brief, HYSTERICAL character exposition. Throughout the entire thing, the reader has to figure out what the HECK is going on and who the HELL these people are; there are hilarious characters, one of whom is a limping, disfigured, but enthusiastic man who speaks with a very pronounced lisp, one is an elderly woman who speaks garbled "stroke-talk", and there are profound moments of catharsis within the play. Amazing and I wish I could watch it. At least twice.
I'm reading more by this author.
Awesome!
October 6, 2011
Most plays are meant to be seen, not read, so it's rare for me to laugh out loud while reading one, but I kept giggling out loud with this one. The first few pages alone completely gripped me. Despite the fact that it's clearly a comedy, I found the last few pages very moving and sad. In short, this hit every note I could have asked for in a play-reading experience. I really hope I get the opportunity to see it live someday.
November 13, 2016
Play based around an amnesiac woman her forgets her life every morning when she wakes up. It had a great cast of characters, most with speech impediments, and a decent mystery: an ex-con-husband whom she had poured bacon grease down his ear and deformed him; a pot-smoking son; a mom with a hugely stroke-impeded enunciation issue. Some decently dark humor. I think this would be a good play to see on stage.
March 8, 2014
It's taken me far too long to revisit this play. I saw it as an undergraduate and was underwhelmed by its plot, while ignoring the playfulness and richness of its language. As a technical example of how many different voices and translations can populate a play, look no further than Fuddy Meers, in all its zany shenanigans and longing for a memorable life.
November 30, 2007
Pretty funny debut play full of madcap puns and rediculous situations. The character with palsy is the gimmick that first caused a stir, but it is the slapstick and concepts that carry this work. Looking forward to tracking this author's career in the coming years.
January 3, 2011
This is the funniest play I have ever seen! I believe it's almost just as good read as seen, but you'll have to let me know... i'm afraid it's hard to get the full effect of the hilarity of Binky, the demented ex-con hand puppet across...
October 9, 2013
Wasn't sure what to think at first about the gibberish-type dialogue. I am glad I stayed with it because it all came together at the end, and I found it worth the trip. It took me a while but I caught the humor.
November 14, 2014
Some of the dialogue was a little confusing, and I wasn't quite sure where the playwright was going with some of his plot choices, but overall I think it would be a very intriguing show to watch and be a part of.
August 14, 2018
What a wonderfully great play! Was able to finish in about an hour. This was very strange, and I had many emotions. There were funny parts, sad parts, confusing parts, but most importantly, loving parts. Especially that ending. I wonder if she'll ever remember????
December 18, 2023
An incredible, abstract play with lots of dark humour. Sometimes I felt like the author wanted to put too much into the play, but overall it was a great time and I found a very interesting experience.
June 25, 2008
David Lindsay-Abaire is who I read when I need to laugh. This play included two speech inpediments, a hand puppet and various other nonsensical things.
August 27, 2009
I heart this playwright mucho mas...also loved 'The Wonder of the World' but it wasn't available to choose and comment upon.
June 23, 2011
Really good 1st and 2nd acts and decent ending. Hilarious dialogue. Love the stoner kid and the dad.
September 1, 2011
I am currently stage managing a prodcution of this show. The more I read it, the more I love it. It was brilliantly written and I have a lovely cast who makes it come to life.
February 25, 2012
This play had a much sadder ending than one would expect.
December 20, 2015
It definitely is not as good of a read as it is seeing it.
February 17, 2015
Very funny script. Likely comes across funnier if performed.
April 1, 2015
This doesn't necessarily come off the page, but I'll bet it's terrific with the right cast, direction, etc.
Read
November 6, 2023Lots of layers. Amusing read with deeper undertones. I'd like to see it performed.
August 9, 2016
I am late getting to this play, but my inner child still had a severe anxiety attack and then wept at the end.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
November 18, 2016
One of the funniest and most unique plays I've read in a long time. It's simultaneously silly and heartbreaking, and there are enough twists and turns to get an audience engrossed.
January 24, 2018
Looking forward to seeing this as the spring mainstage production.
October 24, 2022
Even though its zany first act is filled with all kinds of humor, this powerful and remarkable play by David Lindsay-Abaire is finally a devastatingly sad, even heartbreaking work: a journey through emotional terrain so painful that neither laughter nor tears can do it justice.
The heroine of Fuddy Meers is a woman named Claire, whom we first meet awakening in a comfortably oversized bed, greeting a new day. For Claire, such a greeting has special meaning, however: for Claire has a rare kind of amnesia, which causes her to forget everything she knows about her life while she sleeps at night. Every day is, literally, a new beginning.
She is greeted by a plain, accommodating fellow named Richard who tells her he's her husband and starts to get her oriented to her surroundings; a fresh-mouthed teenager wanders in who turns out to be Claire's dyslexic son Kenny. Things are going smoothly, so Richard heads off to the shower. And then things go swiftly, strangely awry: another man appears, from under Claire's bed. Half-blind, with a disfigured ear, a lisp, and a limp, he identifies himself as Claire's brother Zack, and then breathlessly informs her that he has come to rescue her: that Richard is planning to kill her: that he will save her by driving her to her mother's house in the country. Not sure whom to believe, but ripe for adventure, Claire agrees to go with him. And so the journey begins.
Of course, this strange man is not Claire's brother. He does, however, bring her to her mother's house; eventually, Richard and Kenny turn up there as well (with a policewoman whom they have taken hostage), as does an escaped convict named Millet who travels with a foul-mouthed puppet named Binky. Mayhem of all sorts ensues: the assemblage is variously shot at, stabbed, and assaulted. Claire, meanwhile, must try and make sense of the information she is getting from these assorted characters and also from her subconscious, awakened by this trip back to the place where she grew up.
On one level, Fuddy Meers is a mystery story, with the audience and Claire both trying to make sense of the bizarre events of this action-packed day. This isn't easy even in the best of circumstances; for Claire, it's nearly impossible. This is a world where--literally--no one can understand anyone else: Gertie, Claire's mother, is a stroke victim, and speaks what Claire calls "stroke talk," a discombobulated mangling of normal English that we can only fitfully make out; the limping man has a lisp and is given to disturbing bouts of violence; Millet is saddled loonily to his puppet; Kenny is alienated and often stoned; and Richard, whom we have seen capture a cop, is obviously not the nice guy he at first seemed to be. "Fuddy meers" is the way that Gertie pronounces "funhouse mirrors," recalled to Claire in a reminiscence about a day years ago when the family went to an amusement park. As the facts about the people in Claire's life come into focus, and the awful details of Claire's past emerge--dimly at first, and then with swift, painful sharpness--the absolute necessity of the comforting distortions of "fuddy meers" becomes entirely clear
Playwright David Lindsay-Abaire paints a doleful, bleak portrait of humanity here, in particular of the cruelty and evil of which, I think, he believes all of us are capable. Only by escaping as Claire does, blotting out her past with every sunset, can living in such a world be endured.
The heroine of Fuddy Meers is a woman named Claire, whom we first meet awakening in a comfortably oversized bed, greeting a new day. For Claire, such a greeting has special meaning, however: for Claire has a rare kind of amnesia, which causes her to forget everything she knows about her life while she sleeps at night. Every day is, literally, a new beginning.
She is greeted by a plain, accommodating fellow named Richard who tells her he's her husband and starts to get her oriented to her surroundings; a fresh-mouthed teenager wanders in who turns out to be Claire's dyslexic son Kenny. Things are going smoothly, so Richard heads off to the shower. And then things go swiftly, strangely awry: another man appears, from under Claire's bed. Half-blind, with a disfigured ear, a lisp, and a limp, he identifies himself as Claire's brother Zack, and then breathlessly informs her that he has come to rescue her: that Richard is planning to kill her: that he will save her by driving her to her mother's house in the country. Not sure whom to believe, but ripe for adventure, Claire agrees to go with him. And so the journey begins.
Of course, this strange man is not Claire's brother. He does, however, bring her to her mother's house; eventually, Richard and Kenny turn up there as well (with a policewoman whom they have taken hostage), as does an escaped convict named Millet who travels with a foul-mouthed puppet named Binky. Mayhem of all sorts ensues: the assemblage is variously shot at, stabbed, and assaulted. Claire, meanwhile, must try and make sense of the information she is getting from these assorted characters and also from her subconscious, awakened by this trip back to the place where she grew up.
On one level, Fuddy Meers is a mystery story, with the audience and Claire both trying to make sense of the bizarre events of this action-packed day. This isn't easy even in the best of circumstances; for Claire, it's nearly impossible. This is a world where--literally--no one can understand anyone else: Gertie, Claire's mother, is a stroke victim, and speaks what Claire calls "stroke talk," a discombobulated mangling of normal English that we can only fitfully make out; the limping man has a lisp and is given to disturbing bouts of violence; Millet is saddled loonily to his puppet; Kenny is alienated and often stoned; and Richard, whom we have seen capture a cop, is obviously not the nice guy he at first seemed to be. "Fuddy meers" is the way that Gertie pronounces "funhouse mirrors," recalled to Claire in a reminiscence about a day years ago when the family went to an amusement park. As the facts about the people in Claire's life come into focus, and the awful details of Claire's past emerge--dimly at first, and then with swift, painful sharpness--the absolute necessity of the comforting distortions of "fuddy meers" becomes entirely clear
Playwright David Lindsay-Abaire paints a doleful, bleak portrait of humanity here, in particular of the cruelty and evil of which, I think, he believes all of us are capable. Only by escaping as Claire does, blotting out her past with every sunset, can living in such a world be endured.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 45 reviews