Retro and revelatory at once, with a sex-show climax that's more grotesque and menacing than erotic, The Donkey Show feels frenzied. But except for the actions of the audience, and the cast in reaction to the audience, its every caricatured move is precise, from those of the Mafia goon guarding the back room to butterfly-pasties-adorned Tytania's steamy acrobatics. (Performer Rebecca Whitehurst seems to live in a full split.) The opening-night cast included several ringers from the New York production, but I imagine that the dancer-actor athletes who replace them will be scrupulously well trained, and that the energy in the room will continue to suggest that, whatever Puck is pushing, the love juice in Shakespeare's little western flower is less cocaine than pure adrenaline.
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