GORDON PARSONS appreciates fine performances and a feel for ambiguity, but misses the music of the dialogue
Raft
Martin Figura
The winter bled no light and cursed
to darkness all of us. She purred
and yanked us from the tit. A thirst
so pure can nourish best the need
to stand on your two feet. Blessed
are the self-reliant, who laughed
into each coal-black face and yelled
O Margaret lead us to the raft.
A storm will claim the weakest first
and there are some who won’t be helped:
those frit and living in the past
those moribund and dunderheaded.
Boil it down to one square mile. Greed
is good, get on your bike and graft.
It’s hard to cycle in a flood
O Margaret lead us to the raft.
by Mike Jenkins
Ron's rages are sincere and — according to his wife — healthily cathartic. But can these splenetic outbursts loosen the grip of capitalism at its most monstrous?
by Rosie Jackson
SETH SANDRONSKY recommends a production that looks back at the political Tinseltown in the mid-1970s when US cinema ‘didn’t pander to trends’


