Can This PLEASE Be the Last Entry About Neil LaBute?

After learning about my interest in his play, David Robson e-mailed me his one-act, Killing Neil LaBute, and it's hilarious.

Theater folk, take note. Produce this, or, at the very least, get your hands on a copy. (If you contact David, he'll probably send one to you too, especially if you pretend to be halfway important.)

The 15-minute piece tells the story of what happens when a guy posts a book review of one of Neil LaBute's plays on The review declares, "How about a rewrite, Neil. Dig a little deeper and stop relying on the 'surprise' ending to make it all work. You're becoming the M. Night Shymalan of plays, without the cool special effects." LaBute (who has a real-life reputation of responding to his critics, be they on blogs or on Amazon) is enraged by the review, and decides to go after its author and to maybe—just maybe—kill him. The ending is priceless, and seems to pose the question: What's worse—reading a bad Neil LaBute play or getting shot in the head?

I don't know if Robson's sharp satire is based on personal experience or not, but, perhaps if you contact him, he'll tell you the impetus behind the play.

For me, I've spent far too much time posting blog entries on Neil LaBute, when I really should be blogging about Zac Efron, who touches me in places that Neil LaBute can only dream about.

(Neil, I'm being funny. Please don't come after me.)

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