By David Weininger [Boston Globe, 4 November 2005]
A white ramp emerges from stage right at the Shubert Theatre, and a woman in a white dress walks slowly down it, silently, until she reaches the stage. In her arms she cradles rose petals, which fall carelessly around her as she walks. She looks disheveled and ghostly. There are figures standing nearby, seemingly frozen to their spots, watching her intently. They may as well be part of the set, for the woman in white absorbs all the light in the dark theater.