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Title: Ugh.
Review: They tell me that Sarah Kane made quite a stir in British theatre before her untimely suicide in 1999. Given the undeniable intensity of "Blasted," not to mention the in-your-face subject matter, it's not difficult to see why. I think Kane had at least some talent, but the modest technical skill she brings to this play is definitely overwhelmed by the unpleasantness of the material. Really, "Blasted" is just that old Theatre of the Absurd shtick--you know: "The world is a crazy, horrible place but it's all we have"--updated for somewhat more permissive 1990's audiences; no one familiar with the best plays of Beckett, Pinter, or Stoppard should be terribly impressed by it. The companion piece, "Phaedra's Love," is more of the same, only lacking the questionable merits of the first play. In fact, "Phaedra's Love" is flat-out awful, strongly suggesting that Kane had really very little to say. But that's often how it goes with would-be rebels in the arts.
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