Okay, so, I’m biased.
First, I’m a sucker for Edward Albee. The rhythms of his dialogue hit my ear just right. I’ve read everything he’s written, and I’ve seen a bunch of his plays that have been done around here — from obscure one-acts in black box theaters that seat 29 to Bill Irwin blowing my mind as George in the ginormous Geary Theatre.
Second, I love the Aurora Theatre. Were I to design a theater space where all my plays would be produced for the rest of my life, I would send the architect to rip off the design of this perfectly designed space. (I wouldn’t name it after myself, because I’m modest, but I might figure out a way for its initials to be TB. Theater Bento? Theater Bialy? I don’t know; I’m not a namer. But I’m apparently hungry.)
For a play like A Delicate Balance — which I saw the day after Edward Albee was in attendance, probably sitting in the very seat that I sat in — it’s perfect. You’re no farther than four rows back, plus director Tom Ross knows the space as well as Tore Ingersoll-Thorp knows the Phoenix. (I’ll assume that you, as a long-time reader of this blog, know that’s a way to say “very well” while ensuring that I get a comment from Tore someday.)
Third, I already think A Delicate Balance (and Three Tall Women and Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? and The Zoo Story) is/are masterpiece(s).
So I’m biased. Astute readers figured out early that I’m going to recommend you check it out — especially if you’ve only read it, since it’s a story that’s compelling and theatrical, with dialogue you’d be tempted to close your eyes and just listen to — and skipped over to see what Hurwitt said. (He loved it. Chad Jones did, too. And Albee didn’t shut it down, so he must have approved, as well.)