agonizing wail. Surprisingly, the play's comic stylings disappear. As a result,
             the second act lacks the texture of the first and, at times, resembles an
             episode of Melrose Place or Dallas -- and not a play at all. It would have been more satisfying if Thompson had woven the characters from the first act into the second, creating a dazzling overall arc. But this is one failing in an otherwise riveting script. With performance and production values well beyond the common lot, and an admittedly fascinating text by one of the country's celebrated playwrights, this George Brown production is not to be missed.
             We're our own worst enemies in life's battles. It's too easy--slothful--to cry down the world for its evil and wickedness without recognizing our own participation in the horrors. Canadian playwright Judith Thompson is known for her refusal to satisfy an audience's Manichaean craving to see the world as black/white, us/them, good/bad. Rather, Thompson insists we see ourselves for what we are: hybrid creatures, part lamb and lion, with tendencies to turn on ourselv
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