They should watch more youtube. Brevity, man.

Thanks for not outing me as your sleeping seatmate, SMB, but since I already tweeted about it, I guess there's no need to be coy.

This show didn't do much for me. I thought there were a few really beautiful moments, overlaid by a lot of impenetrable and repetitive ones, with a dash of bad poetry and trite fourth wall manipulation thrown in. It felt too literal—now they're fighting, now they're reconciling, now he needs something that she's not giving, now she's running away. It got tiresome. Thus, the falling asleep.

I'd really like to hear from someone who got more out of it.

This show was a ponderous, pretentious waste of a lot of hard earned money.

On Saturday night, people left the upper seating area early and the remainder could no longer contain their laughter by the last monologue. We applauded obligingly but begrudgingly.

Complete. Fucking. Joke.

Wow, how did you get an iPhone?

I didn't find Hafkenscheid's lyrics "unintellegiable;" nor did the show go skidding off the rails—rather it experienced the entropic, screeching slow burn of a relationship you know should end but just can't bring yourself to cut bait. If you called Stuart an exquisite pixie to her face, she'd head-butt you with a shock of auburn hair and sucker-punch you with her "sinewy arms;" Gehmacher, while tall, lean and handsome in a very Portland way, is far from having "understated eloquence"—instead he awkwardly stumbles through a man-child haze in a very Portland indie-boy way. Their best dancing is not about "crackle and heat" but about suffocating lyric desperation and resignation. A more ennui version of the Brazilian concept of "saudade"—the "vague and constant desire for something that does not and probably cannot exist."

I think it's a stunning piece that falls flat with the second bout of talking-dancer, when Niko breaks the wall, and is about 12 minutes too long. What's hard for people perhaps isn't the pacing it's bearing witness to the agonizing disintegration of love, expectation—it hits far too close for home for most—we've all been there. From a gestural standpoint, the intricacies of hands, arms, and self-preservational reflexes they employ are fascinating. The work is brimming with despair, not pretension. Ponderous, sure perhaps. It's Endgame meets Scenes from a Marriage. Not for everyone, but I'm glad it was here.