Let me preface this by saying the story I’m about to tell is not the smartest thing I’ve ever done. Two weeks ago, I rushed to New York City to catch “The Inheritance” before it closed on Broadway.
I’d been tracking the play by Matthew Lopez — a multigenerational, six-and-a-half-hour monument that resurrects E.M. Forster to give voice to the gay experience more than a century after “Howards End” — since it opened in London, where the reviews had been rapturous.
A few straight friends saw it there and went out of their way to tell me how it had made them cry, and I’d heard that London gays were going back to see it multiple times.
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