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My overall impression
The authors of this production have wrenched the late Mr. Poe from the icy grasp of Hecate into the platonic netherworld constructed by their imaginations.
The morose master of the macabre is subjected to a new torment: posturing literary ass by the name of Cornelius Mathews.
I need not expound on the psychological agonies Mr. Mathews unwittingly unleashes upon the frail psyche of Poe for I do not wish for this page to be endless.
Both of these very unequal talents were members of the 19th century American literary scene; if Poe did not physically encounter Mathews, he did so on paper, to his regret.
I wish to propose a new model for Poe’s death: an apoplexy induced by reviewing Mathews’ most recent literary travesty.
