Lungs by Duncan Macmillan

There is a school of thought in which a work of art that produces an emotional response, be it positive or negative, is considered successful. From that perspective, I would have to deem this show to be a success. However, I am not inclined to think that because I HATED it from start to finish. I hated the contrived way that the main characters, after the first three lines, managed to talk around their subject without again mentioning the word “baby” for probably twenty pages. I hated the stuttering, inarticulate way the characters spoke. I hated the stereotypical female character who wanted her partner to know what she wanted at all times but refused to tell him because he should really just know. I hated the unsurprising surprise that the one time the man and woman have sex after they break up is the instance that results in a lasting pregnancy. In short, I hated the entire show. It may seem surprising that I have not mentioned the unusual way in which the script was written (with no action, no sense of time or place, just one on-going conversation), but that is because it is the only aspect that I regard with indifference. It is a clever little attempt at approaching storytelling in a new and different way. If I had cared at all about the story being told, I likely would have had stronger feelings one way or the other about the writing style. But, as it was...