Coco is more of a bore than a bomb. Opening night was like a disastrous party. Everyone who was anyone was there, primed for some kind of theatrical night of nights. Dramatically, the champagne was flat, the hors d'oeuvres tasted of sawdust, and the small talk on-and offstage sagged into yawns.
The show is one of those lavish reminders that the assembly line is not the fountain of inspiration, that known quantities gathered together do not necessarily produce the elusively unknown quantities of fine dramatic art or exciting entertainment. Wands are wielded by Katharine...
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