The new Tony Kuschner play, The Intelligent Homosexual . . ., is new and ever so modern - with almost graphic sexual scenes and lots of the "f" word - and is presumably still being written. Admittedly, I had reservations after reading the Graydon Royce review in the Star Tribune. He summarized it well when he said "Now the playwright can set his hands to clarifying his irresolute intentions, for Kushner has not yet discovered his own purpose in writing this play." I reached pretty much the same conclusion without having to sit through the whole thing, and I'm no theater critic - or am I?
There was a time in my life when the dramatic introspection and intensity of the family members' sexual discoveries would have entertained, or at least, interested me. As I reflect, it seems to me the most dramatic and intense dialogue hinged on the sexual interests and understandings. When I was twenty years old, I might have cared. I don't much anymore. The other premise, that daddy, Gus, the labor organizer who felt no longer useful, intended to commit suicide as soon as he could sell the family home for a lot of money, was unconvincing, at least in the first act. It also seemed to generate less real feeling in the cast than their various graphic discussions and manner of coping with their sexual identities. Maybe that's what makes it realistic - assuming it is considered to be realistic.
The theater was cold, and I was preoccupied with staying warm. I left at the first intermission. The question I asked myself was, "Do I care enough about how it will end to justify sitting in the cold theater for two more hours?" I didn't, so I didn't.