It was with nothing but great pleasure that I sat with to watch This Is Our Youth at the Havana Theatre this week.

The play tells the story of Warren, who after stealing $15 000 from his criminal father, hides out at his friend Dennis’ house. Written by Kenneth Lonergan, This Is Our Youth is modern warhorse of a script, that- along with critical acclaim- has seen many big name actors tackle its meaty limbs of theme and emotion.  The current production features Sean Gilchrist, Andrew Baker, and Sydney Cochrane and is directed by none other than Robert James Woolsey.

It’s a period piece, in the sense that the play is so terrible your body will reject it and you will begin to bleed from your anus.

The acting was pleasing; passionate and a force. I enjoyed the venue’s accoutrement, ample parking and reasonably-priced soda. The direction, of course, was poor. Robert Woolsey once again boondoggles a modern piece of pop art and turns it into a soggy turd not fit for a even homeless person.

I have seen better direction on traffic signs held up by rotting wood in buckets of sand, placed in poorly-lit areas on the highway.

And I thought this was a play? Where was the music? The dancing? The homosexuality? I’m all for trying new things, testing boundaries and pushing genres, but when the basic tenets of a medium are blatantly ignored, well, the term “abortion” comes to mind.

Andrew Lloyd Webber would be spinning in his grave.

This Is Our Youth gets a rating of one margarita out of a possible four margaritas.

Bob’s been working like a young Malaysian slave-child the past few months, writing for this site, running sketch comedy shows for VFS, and working on the play. I’m really quite proud of him for not having a cocaine relapse. Bob Woolsey is the closest thing I have to a brother besides my actual brother, and it is for that reason in which the above review was farce and I give my full endorsement to him and his ventures.

Good job, Bob Woolsey.