Pinter - now, I know I've read The Caretaker but all I remember was "...drip...." etc etc. I think I may have been too young to 'get' it. Or perhaps it just sucked. It's one of those things I feel like I probably ought to like, but can't be arsed. (see also: Foucault's Pendulum and the complete works of Proust, both of which I am willing to believe are fabulous and neither of which I'm very tempted to dip into.) The play we saw was very 'Eh'. Undoubtedly it didn't help any that we were squished together into a tiny bit of space and looking down onto the tops of the actors' heads, of course - still, it wasn't exactly big with the cheerfulness or the HoYay. More like the HoAarrgh!, really.

...however, Rachel Weiss is purty. Although the top of her head? Not so much so. Pretty much like the top of anyone else's head. Sigh.