Context:
Critics can be nasty, can't they? And that is precisely the premise behind a strange little comedy called PLAY, written by yours truly (Wade Bradford) and soon-to-be-released by Heuer Plays.
While telling his story in his own sweet way, a narrator is rudely interrupted by a theater critic who decides that the play is so terrible that it need to be halted at once. And if that wasn't bad enough, the critic then convinces the hapless playwright to rewrite the "trash" so that it fulfills the critic's intellectual desires.
The CRITIC can be played by a female or male actor, just so long as the performer oozes self-satisfaction.
CRITIC: What do I think of the play? How very brave of you to ask me. Hmm. What do I think of your play. I am on the verge of boredom. Utter boredom. I have been told that the playwright once taught English at the community college level, and it shows. In fact, it seems as though the bulk of this claptrap is derived from the playwright's lecture notes shortly before his students drove him insane. And that's the primary flaw of the play. It's too educational. Theater should enlighten with subtlety. This is just so, so shallow. It is far too blunt. Yes, I think I have seen quite enough, enough to write a scathing review that is. Oh, did I say scathing. scratch that. I wouldn't use the word scathing because that particular participle has become cliche. However, my review, my dear narrator, shall be caustic, igneous, acid-laced, filled with melodious insults and surgical analysis, all of which with brevity and grammatical skill will frighten away any and all future audiences so that the only thing remarkable in connection to this play will be how quickly the producers will go bankrupt. On the other hand, if the playwright decides to adhere to my advice, I could be convinced to change my mind. Yes, my little dramatist, this review of mine could glow. If only you accept a few changes, a few suggestions, my words could then pay homage to the brilliance of your work. I could make literary love to each and every scene in a journalistic frenzy of sensuous prose, a lascivious lexicon, and perverted punctuation. Oh, you should see what I can do with a semi-colon. You'd like that, wouldn't you? Wouldn't you, you naughty little playwright? You're desperate for my approval, aren't you? Uh-huh. I thought so.
