I disliked [A Life in the Theatre]. But I soon realized that my annoyance was not induced by the fact that it was a trifle (talented artists are permitted their piffle) but by the gush with which it has been received by most of the press—celebrated as if it were the best of Mamet.

It is composed of glimpses of two actors, preparing back-stage for performances and, on stage, acting bits from plays they appear in at various times. The "life in the theatre" consists of the display of such gags as an actor "going up" on (forgetting) his lines or trying to hide the accident of a missing zipper. We also hear the older actor talking inspired nonsense (except when his momentary embarrassment makes him honestly profane), while the younger one is either duly respectful or justifiably exasperated by the arty homilies. (p. 504)

What we see is not a life in the theatre (not even a reasonable caricature of it) but a cliché that exists for the most part in the minds of those "out front" who know the theatre chiefly through anecdotal hearsay. "Ephemera, ephemera," the veteran actor murmurs wistfully. Ephemera indeed. Very little of this has anything to do with the pain, the pleasure, the glamour, the fun or follies of theatrical life. It is all an inside joke of which the real absurdity is the sophomoric response it has produced. But that is not Mamet's fault. I look forward eagerly to his future work…. (pp. 504-05)