Letters from Max and Leo

What’s this? A good review? Maybe you’re not understanding the plan here. It’s so simple: All you need to do is make the shows terrible, and this time next year, we’ll all be in Rio! So come on. Take all the “good show” and just shake it right out of you! We can do it. We can make our dreams come true. I know it’s gonna work!

But enough from me! This isn’t the important part. Read Charles Dodgson’s review, and learn from it!

Charles Lutwidge Dodgson's Review

With a flourish of fearless creativity, this untried cast manages to lance a lot of pustulent boils of Broadway’s self-importance, in a painfully raw production of Okla-Holmes-a! Arthur Conan Doyle’s work has never been so stripped to its core.

The resulting glimpse into thought betrayed by language, as in the song “I Cain’t say Cain’t,” offers a savage social criticism worthy of Karl Popper. Despite regular lapses in logic, the whole manages to hang together. The tale demands camp and daredevil deduction, but there are no maudlin Elton John moments.

At times the whole threatened to dissolve into inaudibility, with haphazard acoustics and speech. But, like a brave robin protecting its nest, enunciation emerged harried but triumphant before the finale. And the casting of Sean Connery as a crotchety Holmes was inspired.

It is elementary to see: this show was a grand accomplishment. Well played, good sirs.

Six stars.