One of my Christmas presents I finally got around to reading. A collections of profiles and reviews from John Lahr, from his tenure as chief theater critic of the New Yorker. Lahr would not only review a play, but deliver an in-depth profile of creative personnel involved. Some of the pieces have appeared (Mike Nichols, David Mamet, etc.) in earlier collections (Honky Tonk Parade, Light Fantastic). It was invigorating to read these celebrations of the theater when all is dark because of the pandemic. In the review Lahr doesn't just deliver his opinion, but recreates the experience with vivid descriptions of the staging and performances. The profiles of the playwrights are fascinating, particularly when taken together. All of the dramatists, except for Sarah Ruhl, the lone female, seem to have had unhappy childhoods and difficult parents. David Mamet and Neil LaBute, previously the hottest pistols in theater, seem to have gone out of fashion, maybe because their primary protagonists were angry white males, raging at perceived slights. I read this while dipping into Pauline Kael's movie criticism. Kael had incredibly high standards and found fault with almost every movie she scrutinized, while Lahr was in love with the stage.