Paula Deen after drinking eight Red Bulls.
It's hard to escape the Southern drawl that is built into Cat's language, and don't pretend like you don't hear a certain Southern, butter-loving gourmand when reading this play. Add to that the stage notes that are like little books leaking lightening in the belly of a great beast of a play, and you have a jam-packed work of art. In fact, between the fireworks, the hootin' and hollerin', the throwing of crutches, the stage notes describing the ever-shifting color of the sky, and the unrelenting animal imagery, our heart rate is jumping by the time we exit the Pollitt world, and we feel as though we've been either running from alligators or preying on lions. It's that hardcore.