While perusing Jeremy McCarter’s review of Deuce in the current issue of New York, this sentence caught our eye: “Not to take anything away from the special badness of this play, but it’s worth noting that American playwriting (above 14th Street, anyway) has been in a slump for the past couple of seasons.” He goes on to lament the current crop of revivals on Broadway, but that’s not really what we care about.

If producers and investors insist on throwing money away like drunks at a poker game, why aren’t they throwing that money at those playwrights below 14th street, the ones that critics like McCarter seem to be fond of, thereby putting new works and new voices at the forefront, rather than clunky pieces like Deuce and creaky revivals?

We know we sound like your neighborhood tinfoil-hat crazy, just muttering to ourselves here, but we like to ponder this question ever so often.