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At Round House Theater, they’re metaphorical: An Almost Holy Picture’s ex-minister keeps talking about his oft-sheared “little lamb” of a daughter.
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In Arena Stage’s revival of Candide, they’re pink (pale descendants of fire-engine-red ancestors from the 1983 version) and they pop from trapdoors in a Lambchop-inspired miniflock that’d warm Shari Lewis’s heart. Director Doug Wager also plunks a pair of larger-than-life, gold-toting, Bernstein-bleaters at center stage to “baaaaa” songs till conquistadors arrive to enforce a silence of the lambs.
As You Like It’s mutton at the Folger Elizabethan Theater is a puppet sight gag, and though it’s not remotely funny, it’s repeated and repeated until it inspires that ol’ gag reflex.
And then there’s the fate Sam Shepard has cooked up for the on-the-hoof resident of Curse of the Starving Class. At the Clark Street Playhouse, a kiddie toy stands in for the little maggot-infested lambkin who gets led—carried, really—to slaughter by a nekkid redneck (who initially seems to have other designs on her). Then she’s charred medium rare by arsonists.
In a word: Ewwwwwe.—Bob Mondello