“Art,” by Yasmina Reza, is a very wordy play about three guys who argue over a painting. Their argument eventually turns personal, and all sorts of emotional baggage is dumped on the stage. You really don’t like any of the characters (at least my theater companion and I didn’t), and they just keep on talking. (And who uses the word “ostentatious” in normal conversation?)
Anyway, “Art” was like a long and dull episode of “Frasier”. (And I love “Frasier.” And parentheticals, apparently.) High-strung snooty men picking at each other’s character through fast-paced dialog. Sorry. I’m sure it was about something deep and relevant, but I was exhausted by it.
Reza has each character representing three main viewpoints: The Modernist, The Classicist, and The Everyman. Their widely different opinions show that, ultimately, opinions are like assholes: everyone has one, no one wants to see yours, and they all smell. So it’s better just to keep them to yourself if you know what’s good for you, or you end up making an ass of yourself.
I’m pure class. Blame my mother.