'If there’s one thing I’ve learned about this particular show, and it may be the only thing, as I don’t know when the hell I’m gonna actually see it, is that if the “4” and “9” keys on your keyboard stopped working, it’d be absolutely impossible to write a review of this play.
“wrangling 49 will-bleed-for-Cromer actors—yep, 49” – Chris Jones
“jamming a cast of 49 into the intimate confines of Mary-Arrchie” – Hedy Weiss
“Cromer packs a cast of 49 into Mary-Arrchie Theatre's cramped space” - Justin Hayford
“the cast of this Mary-Arrchie Theatre Company production totals 49 bodies” - Mary Shen Barnidge
I could go on, but I think you get the idea. I think we all get the idea. Big kudos to Kris Vire at Time Out Chicago for leaping to “around 50.” I guess we can always count on TOC to go outside the box. I salute your rebel ways, Kris.
Still, 49. I mean, forty-fucking-nine!
What a bunch of bullshit.
Seriously, Cromer, what? Was 48 not good enough for you? Was 50 just lame? Everyone on God’s green earth knows damn well how pretentious odd numbers are, so OF COURSE you had to go there.
48 would’ve made so much sense. 50 would’ve blown my mind with coolness. But OH NO, not for David Cromer!! He has to go right for that “I’m too avant-garde to go for a round number, buddy!! I’m making FUCKING ART here!!”
Well, you know what, Mr. David Cromer? The Earth is round. A Baseball, the AMERICAN pastime, is round. The fucking UNIVERSE? Y’know what it is? It’s a goddamn spiral. A Spiral! Y’know what that is? IT’S FUCKING ROUND!! Everybody likes round things, except for, I guess…YOU.
God! The only thing worse you could’ve done was use 42 actors, because then I’d have to beat ya with the complete works of Douglas Adams.'