Costume design is fundamental to theatre — not decorative, but narrative.  It operates on several levels at once, often before a single line is spoken. Costumes instantly communicate who a character is: class, profession, psychology, desires, contradictions. A frayed sleeve, an ill-fitting suit, or an overly pristine dress can reveal inner states that dialogue never names. They anchor the audience in period, place, or stylized reality. [more]

Both Neil LaBute and David Mamet are still working — but neither occupies the cultural center the way they once did, and for different reasons. Both men built careers on confrontation, cruelty and moral absolutism, mistaking provocation for profundity and abrasion for insight.  For a time, American theater rewarded this. [more]

Because “bad” and “successful” measure different things. A play can be technically clumsy — thin characters, obvious themes, awkward dialogue — and still succeed because it hits a nerve that craft alone doesn’t control. [more]

Trigger warning:  This post may piss you off. Theatre should make us uncomfortable.  That discomfort is not a flaw to be mitigated but the point: a live encounter with ideas, bodies and emotions we’d rather avoid.  Trigger warnings, when they pre-emptively sanitize experience, risk training audiences to manage their feelings instead of confronting them.  [more]

Yeah, it’s a real pendulum moment in new-play land: a lot of writers (and theaters) are clustering around ~70–90 minutes or swinging to three-hour epics — with less interest in the old “two acts + intermission = 2:15” default. [more]

Short answer: no.  An intermission is never necessary when writing a play.  It’s a choice, and often a practical one rather than an artistic requirement. Historically, intermissions existed for very concrete reasons.  Candles needed trimming, audiences needed to be refreshed, scenery had to be reset, and theaters were social spaces as much as artistic ones. [more]