Paul Constant fucking hates a new play by Balagan about how weird Lucy, Charlie Brown, and the Peanuts characters grew up to be:

Quick: You’re writing a play about the characters from Peanuts as teenagers. How do you begin? If you answered, “With a monologue delivered by a shell-shocked Charlie Brown about the bloody death of a rabies-stricken Snoopy,” you shouldn’t be allowed to continue writing your script.

Anna Minard feels lukewarm about Ki Gottberg's puppet-play—little world, designed by Carol Wolfe Clay—about a woman who lives inside her head. And I write some stuff about two new, local adaptations of old Greek stories by boom! theater company and Scot Augustson, and how they seem to have a sympathetic resonance with the Occupy movement. Or maybe that's just me.