(Charles Isherwood’s article appeared in The New York Times, 5/1.)

Intimations of mortality hover in the pauses punctuating the dialogue in “The Realistic Joneses,” the tender, funny, terrific new play by Will Eno at the Yale Repertory Theater here. Mr. Eno’s voice, which teases out the poetry in the pedestrian and finds glinting humor in the static that infuses our faltering efforts to communicate, is as distinctive as any American playwright’s today. He writes about big matters — nothing bigger than life and death, after all — as if they were incidental oddities deserving of wry comment but no great moralizing or posturing.


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