New Orleans
Plays about men staring down the fuck-you end of the golden 18-34 demographic seem to be cropping up everywhere. But Mark Young’s deceptively slight script goes further than many in what you might call the post-Neveu school of postmacho poetics. Constructed as a boy-talk dialogue in a bar, New Orleans complicates standard early-onset midlife issues by placing its characters in an urban bobo milieu. Two aspiring artists, stymied by the phoniness of both the mainstream and cultural-elite versions of late-capitalist America, try to negotiate the creeping sense that their fiery rebukes have devolved into ego-warding excuses for inaction....