Few Dramatists master the art of combining subtle poetry with deadly drama. Carr masters the art, and it is always a pleasure to be seduced by her language and absorbed by her mysterious and often chilling universes – if one dares. Death is always lurking behind the corner and in this play it is literally hiding in the closet, in the shape of a big creature with wings, beak and claws. A woman is dying, and is reviewing parts of her life accompanied by her alter ego, Scarecrow. Did she live her life to the fullest? Should she have taken more chances? Did she success as a mother and a wife? Could things have been different? The play is a beautiful and passionate solemn song filled with bitter humour and brutal honesty.
