Forbidden desire pent up inside puffy skirts and ruffly bodices. Dark manors with endless wings you can't find your way out of. Attic prisoners, wayward heirs, governesses who burn with secret poetry.
The Moors might even make you mentally reread Jane Eyre to see if you missed how it's been gay this whole time. Silverman's spinsters and their maid feel true and complete.
A single glorious production by an all-volunteer company in La Val's Subterranean isn't recompense for losing two institutions with decades of history. But one can mourn losses while celebrating excellence.
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