And Things That Go Bump in the Night. Terrence McNally, 26, had better beware of moths, for his mind is pure wool. The thoughts of this playwriting youth are the fashionably wrong wrong thoughts about Nuclear Apocalypse, the Bitch Mother, the Castrated Male, the Homosexual Martyr, and the Dehumanization of Everyone. The result is one of those off-bleat stupefactions that make the modern stage look like the queerest wing of a nuthouse.
The setting is an underground shelter fitted with intercoms and tape recorders and guarded by an electrified fence that dims the...
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