Fair warning. The first clue you're possibly in for a big night of drinking, debauchery and partying (and a few gun shots): the instigator will likely appear bearing simple tap water.

Once again, Actors Theatre of San Francisco has chosen to tackle one of the best and most difficult plays written in contemporary American English.

Despite being a more overt comedy, Williams doesn’t shy away from his serious recurring motifs of familiar dysfunction, homosexuality and sexual repression.

This is a strong cast, maybe one of the strongest I've seen on the TheatreWorks stage in the past few years.

By the time Andrew Jackson opined “I’m so that guy,” one wished that Romney or Obama had Davaran’s kind of energy.

Crazy thought. What if... what if a pregnant playwright some day in the future read through all the correspondence between you and Robert, those occasionally booze-fueled postcards, those heartfelt letters, those beautifully introspective bits.

As Cirque brings something new into the world, we emerge from Amaluna restored by the breathtaking excellence of this performance.

The emotional impact of all this action ripples across the audience, particularly during the past twenty minutes when sniffles become audible as yet another character removes himself from the table.

Maintaining the integrity of her story keeps her very imperfect son alive for her. We immediately ache; our vision of our children is part of who we are. This is the story of Michelangelo's Pieta.

This wasn't supposed to happen. You know that sinking feeling you get? The curtain drops, and all of a sudden there's maybe a dozen actors all talking at each other, over top one another, in rapid-fire succession. Uh-oh, I can't keep up. And that bright, garish set, with a...