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What a difference a poncho can make.
Were here, it says, to have a campy good time.
Who is she underneath her skin?
What lurks behind her eyes?
He intones to his friends online, Where are her fangs and tentacles?
When will her dark moon rise?
As inA Strange Loop, Jackson excels in describing the sick pleasure of masochism.
And then, a few scenes later, the Pastor does beat Brad with a belt.
Beware a feminocracy, it says, as much as a patriarchy.
Its a fair conclusion, if also the sort of thing that can read as a cop-out.
The momentum gets the audience to the place where the recrimination may sting more pointedly.
You wore the poncho.
You cheered for the blood.
Youve got teeth in you too.
Teethis at New World Stages.
