Watch The Stage

From Ben Brantley's review of David Mamet's latest, Race, in The New York Times:

No sooner had the curtain fallen on David Mamet’s “Race” the other night than the predominantly white audience [so Brantley's become a racial bean counter?] rose, smiling, to its feet. Standing ovations on Broadway have become a conditioned reflex, but this one seemed a shade more self-conscious and self-congratulatory than usual [because Brantley has the power to read minds]. You could argue this was the perfect coda to a play that examines the self-consciousness that descends on American white people when they talk about, or to, black people.

But that easy demonstration of approval didn’t feel like a reaction to gladden the heart of a dramatist hoping to provoke, to stir, to disturb. As the cast, led by an excellent James Spader, took its curtain calls, there was a relieved feeling that the surprisingly slack “Race,” which opened Sunday night at the Ethel Barrymore Theater, had registered well within the comfort zone of those watching it.

I hate this sort of thing. Ben, review the play, not the audience.

PS According the John Lahr in The New Yorker:

...Mamet offers instead nothing but cynicism. In this, he is an equal-opportunity employer. “I don’t think we’re brothers beneath the skin, over the skin, or in any way associated with the skin,” Henry says to Charles. From the packed multiracial audience attending on the night I saw the show, the line got applause.

I guess you see what you want to see.