103 stories by "SCOTT BROWN"
Two plays opening this week embrace the tradition of lily-liveredness, or try to, and both are comedies — though one of them doesn’t seem fully aware of it.
When a man eats a lightbulb for your wincing pleasure, you'll follow him anywhere.
Benjamin Walker could have been a Hollywood superhero. Instead, he's at the Jacobs Theatre, rocking the man on the $20 bill.
Watching director David Bjornson’s rickety read-through of a revival, I found Gaines’s performance to be the only indispensable one onstage — the lone breathing human up th…
Will Eno's 'Middletown' isn't a play, it's a place. And there's nothing there.
Another vampire that sucks on Broadway, and two plays with amorous coupling for all ages!
The actors push and push, trying to get some momentum, but Cho, in trying to write a timeless fable, has instead created a paceless half-play.
A lusty, lumpy, lovably imperfect remount.
It's a dazzling mess. But like all great, mad manifestos, there are sweet rewards for those willing to take the plunge.
David Mamet's play is performed, word perfect, by Patrick Stewart and T.R. Knight. And that's the problem.
Why smaller, stranger, angrier little shows had a powerful appeal.
Rebecca Northan has arrived at a remarkable insight: An unscripted comedy-hour is really no different than a blind date — right down to the two-drink minimum.
'The Great Game' is seven mostly remarkable, nearly always riveting hours of docudrama--a download of Wikileaksian proportions
So I’m at Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson last night, and in the row ahead of me, a long-haired gentleman (wearing what I believe was an “I’m Andrew $%#@ing Jackson” T-s…
I woke up this morning thinking fondly of Alec Baldwin. As I often do. (This and so many other things set me apart from Kim Basinger and Roger Ailes.)
In Long Story Short, Quinn skims thousands of year with an autodidact's stentorian emphasis and a drinking buddy's beer-breath bonhomie.
Are you okay, old friend?
