Our conversations were hilarious and enlightening, whether or not the plays were. We discussed the female Yeti, the naked men in an apocalyptic junkyard, the air guitar competition (shown here), the baking contest gone wrong, the plays you listened to in a phone booth, the plays you watched in the backseat of a car while being driven around the block, and the plays that aspired to greatness, landed with a splat, and were thrilling anyway.
The festival is gone now, and we miss our time together. I didn’t realize it, but New York theater critics feel the same way. Each year on Critics’ Weekend, they gathered in Louisville and, besides watching the plays, connected with each other in a way that didn’t often happen in New York. Read some of their reminiscences in this good article.
We’ll miss the Humana Festival. We thought it was about the plays, but all along, as with most things, it was about the people.