If my son wrote a play like Confessions, I’d disown him. (He’s been forewarned). Strangely, Alexandre Zeldin, and (luckily for him) most of his play’s reviewers, seem to think he’s made a profound and moving testament to his mom. It reminds me of the French movie Amour, one of the bitterest profiles of marriage on cellul…
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Elderberries to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.