Art. I don't why I hadn't seen Yasmina Reeza's play, "Art" before last night. I had meant to, and there have been a parade of remarkable actors in and out of the play I wanted to see. I just hadn't gotten around to it, so was pleased when Lance recommended going. Currently, George Segal headlines the play and was brilliant. Very natural and focussed despite the staggering heat of the theatre. But even he was upstaged by Richard Griffiths giving a staggering funny/sad performance as the passive victim Yvan. There's a machine gun monologue half way through that instantly won the hearts of the audience, and a bit of stage business with olives that had me giggling uncontrollably. But there are inherent problems in the production. The psychological insight and deconstruction (carefully chosen word) of the male friend's relationships was undeniably feminine in form and seemed oddly placed on the soldiers of these variants of masculine control, and the string of angry shouts and retrievals. This is a play which probably has a bigger impact when performed by the French as it makes sense of the exchanges of temper, reaching out, and silence. That said, it was wonderful to see these three men, so different, related to this material which is essentially about the disruption of a relationship that happens because one of them buys a white painting for 200,000 francs.