This volume of Elizabeth Sprigge's Strindberg translations is not as solid as the first, but it does have both parts of "The Dance of Death," which I think MIGHT be Strindberg's greatest play.

I don't know how to say this in a more mature critical fashion, but for me Strindberg was at his best when he allowed himself to go OUT OF HIS MIND, and just pull out every last stupid stop of taste and logic. In "The Dance of Death" we start with what seems to be a naturalistic character study of complicated relationships, and proceed from there into OH MY WTF IS THIS with characters doing ludicrous Hussar dances in boots (and then collapsing on the floor) and throwing each other down and biting each other on the necks. Is it ridiculous? Probably. But it's also unforgettable, and I would LOVE to see it staged with great actors -- they'd need to be great to pull this monster off.

Imagine something that starts out like a dark G. B. Shaw play that is then swallowed by a Bosch painting on the wall that grows and swallows everyone. That's "The Dance of Death." ( )