In fighting against the stultifying narrowness of the commercial theater, Albee was simultaneously fighting for his fellow playwrights and theater artists, many of whom owe him a great debt for the moral and financial support he provided through his friendship and foundation.
He leaves behind a valuable trove of plays — two that I would call masterpieces (“The Zoo Story” and “Three Tall Women”), one that will never relinquish its place in the theatrical repertoire (“Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?
David Mamet once described two of New York’s leading drama critics as the syphilis and gonorrhea of the American theater.
Edward Albee, whose death at age 88 on Friday marked the end of his reign as the greatest living American playwright, chiseled his own choice invectives for reviewers over his topsy-turvy career.
Fearing that I was going to be scolded for my erroneous insights, I found myself devoting my introductory pleasantries to an adorable part-Abyssinian cat.
Critical Essays On Edward Albee