BITTER Their tireless efforts cannot give Wellman’s perversely abstruse writing — think Ronald Firbank’s old thesaurus, hijacked by Allen Ginsberg while waiting for Godot with Samuel Beckett– remotely the importance it gives itself, let alone meaning. Avant-garde devotees may well value “The Hyacinth Macaw.” Average theatergoers may prefer to peruse the Cunard Line memorabilia in […
