(Lyn Gardner’s article appeared in the Guardian, 4/27.)
They sit on chairs at opposite ends of a traverse stage. They could be gladiators squaring up to each other, but this man and woman are lovers. She (Vinette Robinson) is small and fragile; he (Jack Gordon) is wired and watchful. The music pounds like a wildly beating heart. They circle each other, they hurl words like hand grenades, they tear each other apart with terrible tenderness. "Your mouth … it's such a wet thing. I could squeeze a bullet between those lips." Their sad eyes are haunted by violent desire and violent loss.