This may be the pièce de résistance of rage-and-scorn monologues.
There is something awkward and pathetic, yet endearing and ultimately heroic about Asher Wyndham's protagonist in "Fuck Buddy #2," especially in dialogue, storytelling, and costume. There is such variety in the volume, style, and texture of rage-filled images strewn forth, it's dizzying.
Yet at the core, it's the hurt that shines through -- which showcases Wyndham's great skill: creating characters an audience will understand and acknowledge. And that hurt, seemingly driven by passionate need, makes me wonder if this is the...
This may be the pièce de résistance of rage-and-scorn monologues.
There is something awkward and pathetic, yet endearing and ultimately heroic about Asher Wyndham's protagonist in "Fuck Buddy #2," especially in dialogue, storytelling, and costume. There is such variety in the volume, style, and texture of rage-filled images strewn forth, it's dizzying.
Yet at the core, it's the hurt that shines through -- which showcases Wyndham's great skill: creating characters an audience will understand and acknowledge. And that hurt, seemingly driven by passionate need, makes me wonder if this is the last we hear about this character.