The poverty of Albee's language, the lack of connection between the two pieces, the simpering wife aimlessly complaining about nothing, , the hackneyed, flat standard jokes ( did i say jokes?), the author's attempts to make his work be likeable make this the worst theatre i have ever suffered through. Around me the audience was mumbling their discomfort with all that blather about 'foreskin' ( what the hell was the point in that anyway? ) and the wife's talk about 'animal sexual aggression' and this from a woman who looked like a gentle milkmaid in a German C19th century postcard. And someone has the gall to compare Albee to Sam Beckett whose language was poetic, insightful and yet spare but always said something. The flyer distributed by the theatre which has an interview with Albee makes him sound like he was fixing a car with parts from different motors and basically had NO idea what he was trying to accomplish. I still enjoyed both male actors. And we love The Signature Theater