The Truth… But mostly lies!

What happens when you have an affair, that’s not really an affair, but everyone else believes its an affair, when its really not…? Confused? So was I. It appears Becky Warden has a terrible secret, which is not as bad as it seems. She has another woman’s husband, Mr. Lindon, fawning after her, but she doesn’t feel the same way back. She only believes they are good friends, but Mrs. Lindon and her private detectives have to say otherwise. Curiouser and curiouser. Becky Lindon also has another problem, which is the biggest one of them all… SHE LIES! A LOT! And apparently she has been lying ever since she could talk! She is so good at it, she can fool anyone. The question I often asked myself during this play was, “Is that the truth, or a lie…?” Which is what I believe to be Clyde Fitch’s original intent. Despite his intent, I was kind of annoyed by her lying. It got to be a little outrageous. There was a line, but I think that Fitch may have crossed it. Just a tad. By the end, I was like, “It’s about time!!!” I was mad at Becky; that she even let it go that far. I guess it just upset me, only a little though. One striking observation that I made at the beginning, was… where the heck is the exposition??? You don’t know what they are talking about for the first 5 pages. You have two upset worried ladies, but they are bickering about something we have no clue of. It may have been for humors sake, but… it wasn’t for me. What irony; a play called “The Truth” being about lies. It is a perfect satire on the lies in marriage, in the higher-class community. There is so much irony in this play, I could fill and ocean with it. I guess that’s what makes up most of this play’s humor. You have a “like father, like daughter situation” which is ironic in itself. Becky and her father are both terrible pathological liars. They lied to their spouses, the people who are infatuated with them, AND they even lie to each other. How fitting of them. The best part is when they devise a lie together… Its utterly ridiculous how they can carry on as such. If I were asked to compare the humor, I would have to compare Clyde Fitch’s humor to Noel Coward’s humor. They have a similar witty humor. The quips are the main build of both of their humors. It makes me wonder if Noel Coward read any of the works by Fitch? Could be? “We don’t love people because they are perfect… we love them because they are themselves!” I liked Tom’s line a lot. I just wish it were said earlier. I loved the play. It was charming. I had to really wrap my brain around it to understand it, follow it, and get into it. It was a catastrophe, but a lovely one.

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