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The Fourth Sister | Cinders | Antigone in New York
Hunting Cockroaches
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Antigone in New York

 

Three homeless people living in Tompkins Square Park in Manhattan decides to steal the dead body of their friend from Potter’s Field and rebury it in the park.

 

“Homelessness, Glowacki seems to be saying, is more than just the lack of a roof. It’s a condition of the soul.”

-Clive Barnes, The New York Post

 
“Mr. Eisenberg turns Flea into a kind of revealing sybil and one begins to see that Mr. Glowacki’s transformation of a Greek tragedy may be more than an act of blind hubris.”

-D.J.R Bruckner, The N.Y Times, Apr. 24, 1996

 
“As comic as it is devastating, Anita’s conviction, like so much of Janusz Glowacki’s dark, giddy play, derives its power from the sinister fusion of impossibility with truth. An absurdist Tompkins Square takeoff on Sophocles’s monumental tragedy, Antigone tracks the soulful shenanigans of three homeless émigrés and one very funny corpse.”

-Sam Whitehead, Time Out New York

 
“None is funnier or a shrewder observer of his adopted homeland than Janusz Glowacki, a Pole whose 1987 ‘Hunting Cockroaches’ poignantly and hilariously evoked the dilemma of the émigré artist- unable to interest audiences in stories about life back home and unable to trust his insights about the strange new world he inhabits now.
Glowacki proves just as witty, and far more acerbic, in ‘Antigone in New York,’ a new play about two immigrants for whom the promised land has failed.”

-Wlliam A. Henry III, Time Magazine

 
“The love-hate nature of the characters’ relationship is one of the most powerful aspects of the play. As the end of the second and final act approaches, the comedy is replaced by a tragedy.”

-Shaheena Ahmad, The Daily News

 
“To be sure there’s a surprising amount of humor in the antics of the three homeless people who dwell in a New York City park, but their plight is ultimately-inevitably-tragic.

-Amy Reiter, Back Stage

 
“As I write these words, a tiny ant is running back and forth across my typewriter, unable to figure out how it got there. It’s lost its way. So have the tiny Flea from Warsaw, and Sasha, who once was somebody, but it no longer matters who, because now his hands shake badly. They are waiting; for a certain Yola who is supposed to be coming, or for a visa. And what keeps them going is their endless pondering over and mocking at their own Godots.”

-Jan Kott, Dialog

  

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