A perfect moment of theater does not necessarily happen in a show that is entirely good. It's likelier in a show that is entirely good from start to finish. But it can also happen in one of those shows that leaves you mostly emotionless, where you didn't entirely dislike it but you didn't like it very much either. That happened to me with the musical version of Once, a charming little Irish movie about two socially awkward yet musically talented people who develop feelings for each other, make music and then not make love.
But this post is not about what struck me (or didn't) about the musical version of the film, currently playing at the New York Theatre Workshop (it's also written by Enda Walsh, whose Penelope was my first moment of theatrical bliss in New York City). No, this is the story of that rare and perfect theatrical moment.
