However, behind a screen, his wife, who is a pianist, and a violinist (were they having an affair?) come and go, playing snatches of the famous Beethoven violin sonata in period garb. In the play, he addresses the audience directly with no other travelers in the train compartment. It's the story of a man confessing to fellow train passengers that he was driven by jealousy to murdering his wife (and then acquitted by a jury). I've previewed it a couple times here already, and here's the NYT review, but I'm happy to report now that it is quite terrific, though closing a week from tomorrow. Just back from New York and seeing, at one of the tiny LaMaMa theaters in the East Village, the acclaimed play just imported from London, The Kreutzer Sonata, based on the Tolstoy novella.
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