It seems to me that for fertility in droll inventions, the perpetual outpouring of unforeseen misunderstandings, for the inexhaustible gaiety of dialogue, Feydeau's new play is superior to everything he's written so far. The most astonishing thing is the sureness with which everything is controlled, explained, justified, in the most extravagant buffoonery. The cross-purposes rebound non-stop, and every time one is introduced, one thinks, `Yes,...
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