It was their third and last bill. So far, England's Old Vic had given Broadway some good Shakespeare and some dubious Chekhov (TIME, May 20, 27). But last week they gave Broadway its greatest theatrical experience in years. Reaching back 25 centuries to Sophocles, they bodied forth, as superb theater, as searing tragedy, his Oedipus the King.
They had chosen one of the very few things in the world that are both great and perfect. As playwriting, Oedipus is as compact as dynamite. As drama, it tramples down its own large horrors, mounting to a world of austere terror beyond them. All...
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