And the material, virtually unchanged in 15 years, seems plainly dated today. This revival is a mistake. We expect a one-woman show to be topical, especially when it comes from such a trenchant and talented mind. Even the central character in this play, an endearingly mad bag lady named Trudy, now seems a strange relic of a New York past. Times Square, Trudy's territory, is now filled with the shiny, huge headquarters of multinational companies, gigantic stores, hotels and theme restaurants.
Bag people are definitely out, and big money is in.
The stronger half of this show, in 1985 and still today, is a kaleidoscopic view of the unraveling of a certain kind of mid-century lifestyle. It is Wagner's elegy to feminism. Even the Honda Civic. Lyn was, of course, a radical feminist in 1970, and she married a sensitive man named Bob. He's the only man I've ever known who knew where he was when Sylvia Path died.