It is an old cliché that is rarely heeded: the artist is the keenest barometer of his culture. Well, maybe I just made it up. But it sounds old, doesn't it? Nevertheless, over the last few days the New York Times has pumped out a remarkably consistent series of Theatre reviews; theme-wise that is. First came a fascinating play about the murder of a child by Bryony Lavery called "Frozen", about which was written this:

An essential theme is how people channel and compartmentalize their most violent and troublesome feelings.

Okay. A little taste of violence and how people deal therewith. Next, Mark Medoff's "Prymate":

…opened last night at the Longacre Theater amid a mild furor caused by casting a black actor as a gorilla who sexually assaults a young blond woman. […] In terms of plot, everything comes down to power, desire and revenge in the most primal way.

Golly. It seems that we're really getting into issues revolving around our baser instincts, eh? Finally, today we get the skinny on Neil LaBute's "The Distance From Here":

This is a work, you should know, that begins with two loutish lads hurling themselves against a railing at the zoo to stir up the chimpanzees within. And it's Mr. LaBute's grim joke that just who the real animals are here is not an easy call.

Hmm...It's a good thing that people don't pay attention to artists – otherwise we'd fall into paroxysms of despair over our collective regression into mere beasts. After all, We The People are more civilized than all that. Aren't we?