Monday is the night nothing happens, which is exactly when it is worth watching people work without a net. Somebody in the audience shouts a title for a play that has never existed, and the cast performs a full-length Shakespearean version of it on the spot — five acts, mistaken identities, a death scene, verse invented on the fly by people who have to rhyme their way out of corners they built ninety seconds earlier. The failures are the best part. An actor gets stranded mid-couplet, and you can watch the others silently decide whether to rescue him or let him hang there one beat longer because it is funnier. They almost always let him hang. Mark Flanagan asks you to leave your phone at home or in the car, and he means it, so no clip of the collapse exists. The play was never written down to begin with, which means the thing you sit through will never be performed again, by anyone, in any city. Doors at seven, curtain at eight, Monday the 26th of October. Largo at the Coronet, on La Cienega.
Monday is the night nothing happens, which is exactly when it is worth watching people work without a net. Somebody in the audience shouts a title for a play that has never existed, and the cast performs a full-length Shakespearean version of it on the spot — five acts, mistaken identities, a death scene, verse invented on the fly by people who have to rhyme their way out of corners they built ninety seconds earlier. The failures are the best part. An actor gets stranded mid-couplet, and you can watch the others silently decide whether to rescue him or let him hang there one beat longer because it is funnier. They almost always let him hang. Mark Flanagan asks you to leave your phone at home or in the car, and he means it, so no clip of the collapse exists. The play was never written down to begin with, which means the thing you sit through will never be performed again, by anyone, in any city. Doors at seven, curtain at eight, Monday the 26th of October. Largo at the Coronet, on La Cienega.
Monday is the night nothing happens, which is exactly when it is worth watching people work without a net. Somebody in the audience shouts a title for a play that has never existed, and the cast performs a full-length Shakespearean version of it on the spot — five acts, mistaken identities, a death scene, verse invented on the fly by people who have to rhyme their way out of corners they built ninety seconds earlier. The failures are the best part. An actor gets stranded mid-couplet, and you can watch the others silently decide whether to rescue him or let him hang there one beat longer because it is funnier. They almost always let him hang. Mark Flanagan asks you to leave your phone at home or in the car, and he means it, so no clip of the collapse exists. The play was never written down to begin with, which means the thing you sit through will never be performed again, by anyone, in any city. Doors at seven, curtain at eight, Monday the 26th of October. Largo at the Coronet, on La Cienega.