What I saw: “The Penitent,” a new play by David Mamet, at the Atlantic Theater Company in the Chelsea neighborhood of Manhattan, on West 20th Street.
What I did beforehand: baked bread, drove to the city, found on-street parking which was free and not illegal and it made the afternoon feel like winning a prize when you didn’t even buy a raffle ticket, got cappuccinos at Grumpy’s.
What I wore: Doc Martens, black micro-cord jean leggings from James Jeans, black shirt with white dots, shirt and sweater I found on my closet floor, parka.
Who went with me: the Bacon Provider
How I got tickets: via phone, in December. I forgot to put it on the calendar in my phone and booked something else the night before and thought maybe we’d make a theater-weekend of it, but then other stuff came up and we just drove back and forth. Sorry, planet. Next time I will take the train.
Why I saw this show: David Mamet.
Where I sat: row E, seat 9, behind the only empty seat in the theater and surrounded by old white people. I assumed the empty seat was saved for the director, or 44, or Jesus, and in the moments between scenes where they dimmed the lights onstage and re-arranged the table and two chairs and the women next to me whispered intrusively, I thought about what it would be like to have the director, or 44, or Jesus sitting directly in front of me and I decided I wouldn’t be able to concentrate.
Things that were sad: the forces of evil in this play (homophobia, mental illness, media manipulation, capitalism, the legal system) exert their will upon the characters but cannot be confronted or thwarted.
Things that were not funny/funny: lawyers can be funny as all hell.
Something I ate: bread and cheese in the car on the way there.
What it is: another subtly brilliant Mamet play, which might feel like a masterpiece to those who’ve been sued, and might feel dry as toast to anyone else, with four actors and one brief intermission.
Who should see it: lawyers, libelers, therapists, ethicists, people who like crime dramas, language mavens, fans of Mamet, people who have been libeled.
What I saw on the way home: we made excellent time, and were buoyed by the language of America’s master playwright, but an especially big white SUV wandered menacingly linto our lane on the Saw Mill Parkway up around Elmsford, and I had to honk.