Anderson’s research of the historical context of 'pen/man/ship' is evident in every line. However, she doesn't overwhelm you with historical detail, letting the characters steer the action.

Such true-to-life characterizations may be why Tony Taccone characterizes this play as being about the death of the left, and a love story about the Marxist theory of surplus value.

The emotional impact of all this action ripples across the audience, particularly during the past twenty minutes when sniffles become audible as yet another character removes himself from the table.

So powerful was his hold on the audience, the only evidence that anyone was even breathing was an occasional gasp.

Director and choreographer ­­Zack Thomas Wilde was smart enough not to let Rothrock’s cleanly defined moves dominate the production, allowing for other equally superb talents, such as Rudy Guerrero, to shine through.

Her superior, an apparatchik known only as “Director” enters, vaguely handsome in a Donald Trump dunderhead kind of way.

Philemon is so opaque, so self-controlled, that you know as much about him at the end of the play as you did in the beginning. This opacity is a strength as much as a weakness.

Copeland's performance suggests that most of us are more genuinely confused than genuinely racist, and that self-hatred can be insidiously contagious.

Chris Apy and Tonyboy Marin's performances of Gavroche (especially “Little People”) brought down the house.

The show begins with the theatre equivalent of a palate-chaser, as the lights plunge you into a darkness so deep that the stage lights sear your eyes when they come up. Whatever you leave behind is exactly that – left behind.