The script is sometimes let down by casual plotting and cliched dialogue. The half-hopeful, half-despairing ending is contrived ... but it feels right.
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‘Rockets and Blue Lights’ is illuminated by dazzling flashes of brilliance. But ... I could never quite grasp the full shape of what Pinnock and Crowell were creating.
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The wealth of overlapping stories ... give the drama an exciting, anarchic edge but also create cerebral circles within circles. There are plenty of potent moments ... and [the] actors bring immense conviction.
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In effect, there are three or four playlets competing for our attention, and none of them comes to life. It’s a fatally complicated tangle, made even more bewildering by the doubling of roles.
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This intricate structure is beautifully held together both by the poetry and quality of Pinnock's writing. The second half loses the tightness of the first. But this is balanced by the sheer richness of [the] narrative.
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For the most part, I respected the gesture more than I admired the art, and while I cannot argue with the integrity of her vision, I can protest that she has crammed too much into too little space.
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Pinnock’s play maintains that the chief value of art lies in its capacity to bear witness. It is brought to life ... in a production of huge resourcefulness and chutzpah by Miranda Cromwell.
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The play is a sprawling piece of work, and the pacing is oddly modulated, with a first half that takes its time setting up its chess pieces, and a second that lands only some of its gut-punches. Much of the play feels overly mannered.
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