A play in two acts by Terry Quinn



LA WEEKLY’s Bill Raden (11/14/12) on the concept:
Playwright Terry Quinn’s bleakest of black comedies resides in a savagely misanthropic literary suburb where friends and neighbors go by names like LaBute and Albee and Strindberg. It’s the kind of neighborhood where deception and sexual betrayal are as ubiquitous as backyard barbecues, and where words not only cut like a knife but are also usually wielded with a homicidal intent. Act One features a lacerating coital dance of death by Glory Simon and James Wagner (in a marvelously malign duet) as marrieds whose mutual contempt has become a bitterly sadomasochistic conjugal embrace.

CITYSEARCH WILL CALL (11/13/12) on the Act One performers:
The title suggests a whodunit crime story. Instead, Bad Behavior might have been more apt. What we’re dealing with here is a group of unhappy people involved with each other on rather nasty terms. The first act’s most prominent prop is a bed belonging to Leah (Glory Simon) and Richard (James Wagner), a couple in a marriage from hell. They antagonize one another even while having sex! Their issues are mistrust and jealousy, as they dissect last night’s bust of a party, given for several friends and neighbors.

Simon, as a wife who hides her wounded heart beneath a barrage of insults, is especially moving as we watch her mellow in an effort to rekindle a spark of the old flame. Wagner brings a soft edge to the role of her husband.

These people may annoy you but they won’t bore you. The dialogue stings and bites with the ferocity of an angry cobra and is flawlessly delivered.

LA WEEKLY’s Iris Mann (11/4/12) on the Act Two performers:
Mercy Malick’s wild, seductive, smooth and multilayered work is largely responsible for bringing life to the second act. Ryan Fox gives a full-blown, varied, frequently amusing performance as the apparently stiff politician who is terrified that constituents may learn of his dalliances but slowly lets his hair down, to the point of snorting some coke. Justin Sintic has a magnetic stage presence and projects a fascinating sense that there is turmoil boiling beneath the surface. Chuck Raucci is totally uninhibited as the life of the party yet has a genuine moment of vulnerability when his character fears that he is being disdained.

ACCESSIBLY LIVE OFF-LINE (11/5/12) on themes and direction:
Bad Evidence, a dark drama about dubiosity and allurement, makes its West Coast premiere at Hollywood’s Elephant Space theater. Playwright Terry Quinn spins a tale that is biting, intense and hostile, without excessive violence. (The mayhem is more in the words than the actions.) Katie Sabira Rubin directs this two act, whose intensity never quits. Each scene shows deep intention.

VIVA LOST ANGELES’s Fayeruz Regan (11/11/12) on L.A. versus NYC:
Angelenos should see Bad Evidence, playing at The Elephant Theater in Hollywood. If we thought we were being tested here in the Porn Capitol of the World, you should see the mess these New Yorkers get themselves into. I left the theatre both relieved and uncomfortable. Relieved that it was only a dream, and uncomfortable because the characters surge dangerously close to territory that married couples steer far from. When actress Glory Simon confronts her spouse about an affair, or even an attraction that may lead to an affair, you wish she hadn't asked. The air is electrified and they're both so vulnerable. You hold your breath and hope he will lie. Lying is the nice thing to do.

Bad Evidence has the domestic sparring of Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? and the antics of Laguna Beach. You should see this play not only for entertainment, but to feel better about your own relationships.



The Cell, July 2011
Directed by Kira Simring


L-R: Gary Lee Mahmoud, Ryan Lee, Ana Grosse, Carmit Levite, Armand Anthony and Len Rella.
Photo by Xtina Kim.

Review in
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Reading at The Cell, March 2010


St. Francis College, April 2011


Michael Chekhov Theatre Company, Sept - Oct, 2009
Starring Duvall Osteen and Thomas Francis Murphy





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