However precipitous its decline, The Simpsons remains the only TV show my entire family will sit in the same room and watch together. (Mom, I suspect, might just be going along to get along.) But one needn’t have so intimate an association with TV’s longest-lived comedy to appreciate the grim genius of Anne Washburn‘s Mr. Burns, a Post-Electric Play. I review Woolly Mammoth Theatre Company‘s world-premiere production in today’s Washington City Paper, available wherever finer alt-weeklies are given away for free. Sorry about the ugly split infinitive that crept in there, you guys.
Oh, and I should find out tomorrow whether of not I won the AltWeekly Award that I’m up for. I’d be honored to take third place behind the other two finalists in my category — arts criticism, circulation 50,000 and up — but upon reflection I would rather take second. Or first, even. Please cross all six fingers for me.
That’s a little Simpsons joke, there. Very.