Anaïs Nin: One Of Her Lives 

Beckett Theater, 410 W. 42nd St.

  
Anaïs Nin: One Of Her Lives is supposed to be like entering the love triangle of three legends of literary lore. Actually, it’s more like listening to a 17-year-old girl tell you about her problems; the melodrama is entertaining until you realize that it’s going to last for another hour.

If, like most sane people, you haven’t picked up a volume of Nin’s Diary since you were 17, let me refresh your memory. See, Henry Miller is married to June, but June has a crush on Anaïs, and Anaïs kind of has a crush on her too. But then again she kinda likes Henry, although, whether it’s for his cool stories or his hot bod, well, she can’t really decide, you know? The entire play is dedicated to, like, analyzing this totally lame problem!
The teenage theme is maintained in the set design, which, with chandeliers, stenciled wall art, and color-coordinated book piles, looks like a back-to-school window display at Urban Outfitters. June (ostensible muse for both writers) is nothing more than a spot-on impression of that perfect embodiment of adolescent angst, Courtney Love.

And, just like your fledgling erotic forays, the sex scenes are so clichéd that they’re painful to watch. The playwright got one sex position right off the VHS cover of Henry and June. Seriously.
The actors playing Nin and Miller (Angela Christian and David Bishins, respectively) turn in as complex a performance as possible, but with this sophomoric script, I advise you to save your allowance for something you really want.

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