The reprise of Pig Iron Theater's Chekhov Lizardbrain could not have been better timed or a sweeter retort to the arts-naysaying of certain conservative elements, spearheaded by McCain and championed by the righteously-dumb Fox Network which pounced on a 25K grant from the NEA to Pig Iron--an Obie-Award-winning theater troupe--as an exemplar of liberal waste. Mmmm. As a result, I remember the sweetness and delight of Chekhov Lizardbrain with particular fondness, a nearly fie-fie-fie-on-you-McCain spiteful fondness.

Oh, and if you missed it this time around, fortunately Pig Iron recently received a $25,000 grant to continue their good work so you will undoubtedly have another chance.

This play enthralls completely and is a challenge to caption neatly--a sweet and fantastical work focused on an awkward child-man's elaborate dreams of living a mannered life, one marked by grace and unusal gifts at the center of a dashing tight-knit family. Around this delightful self-conceit, a starker reality insinuates itself and reveals the loneliness and isolation of a person of meager abilities, dwelling by himself in a crumbling house as his fantasies begin to sift apart and lose their ability to sustain him emotionally. The staging and theatricality of Pig Iron render this story with breath-taking agility and cleverness and although I came with high expectations based on the rave reviews of prior stagings, I still left convinced that I had just seen theater in evolution.