Empire Control Room & Garage
Pineo's Pretentious Drivel
RECEIVED Mon., July 3, 2006
Dear Editor,
My unhip mind seems to have missed something in reading Barry Pineo's review of the Hyde Park Theatre's performance of A Brief History of Helen of Troy [Arts Listings, June 30]. After the usual trite, college sophomore rants about what a rotten, cruel, unfair world it is (merit doesn't really matter, the rich get richer, and the rest of us "poor schlubs get considerably poorer," "wage slaves" et. al.), he concludes that we shouldn't miss it because we'll miss: "a funny, sad, wise, ultimately human story. So strange to watch a play in which fellatio is performed on a young man who has just been assaulted; in which one person spits on another, not once, but twice; in which a daughter quite clearly propositions her father; in which an adolescent girl talks about the sexual act in the crudest of terms; and in the end to be left saying that the story is not so much about brutality as it is about caring, about connection, and, mostly, about love." So just where is all this "wisdom" and "love" Barry baby?
Violence, teen lust substituting for lack of affection, incest, ugliness, the degradation of the human spirit – all of which true progressives know, I'm sure, is hidden behind the pleasant, materialist facade of every middle-class, suburban American, family. The review says more about the mind of Barry Pineo than anything else. That classy Lolitaish porno-like pic that accompanied the review revealed more truth about the play than any of Pineo's pretentious drivel.
My unhip mind seems to have missed something in reading Barry Pineo's review of the Hyde Park Theatre's performance of A Brief History of Helen of Troy [Arts Listings, June 30]. After the usual trite, college sophomore rants about what a rotten, cruel, unfair world it is (merit doesn't really matter, the rich get richer, and the rest of us "poor schlubs get considerably poorer," "wage slaves" et. al.), he concludes that we shouldn't miss it because we'll miss: "a funny, sad, wise, ultimately human story. So strange to watch a play in which fellatio is performed on a young man who has just been assaulted; in which one person spits on another, not once, but twice; in which a daughter quite clearly propositions her father; in which an adolescent girl talks about the sexual act in the crudest of terms; and in the end to be left saying that the story is not so much about brutality as it is about caring, about connection, and, mostly, about love." So just where is all this "wisdom" and "love" Barry baby?
Violence, teen lust substituting for lack of affection, incest, ugliness, the degradation of the human spirit – all of which true progressives know, I'm sure, is hidden behind the pleasant, materialist facade of every middle-class, suburban American, family. The review says more about the mind of Barry Pineo than anything else. That classy Lolitaish porno-like pic that accompanied the review revealed more truth about the play than any of Pineo's pretentious drivel.
Nathan J. Latta
