The Husband (Cullen) she returns to not only knows she has been with a lover, he says he is sad that things didn't go her way with his competitor. This relationship is especially fraught, in a way no less disturbing to us for being so common: neither has the strength to leave the other. "You're so small," she laments, "it takes nothing to fill you up." Much if not most of what binds them is their having lost a baby, but not before it was born and uttered its first cries. Her response evidently was to toughen up, his to open up to his need for human connection.

The actor who played The Maid (Gorgone) is now The Little Miss, playing a conniving pretend-innocent who wants to rent an expensive apartment from The Husband. Without either saying so explicitly, their conversational roundelay establishes that their quasi-father-daughter relationship will be incestuous. Her hypocritical relationship with The Poet (Broccoli) is brutally true compared to his with The Actress (Nick Thibeault), as is hers with The Count (Creapeau). And so it goes, a circle of potentially honest relationships toppling like dominoes.

Broccoli has done it again, fashioning some fascinating theater from nothing more than shreds and scraps of human frailties.

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