I loved the show. Okay, I loved it and hated it. I thought about it for days afterward, which does not often happen because, believe me, after this many years of seeing theatre, I have a quick and dirty brain function for deleting shows that should be forgotten. This one was painful, dark, and sticky. The phrase I repeated endlessly to my partner was “really f&%^&g clever.” It was like a hot chile pepper that you don’t know is hot until you finish eating it and reach for a drink of water. But here’s the thing that stuck in my craw: I had just finished reading Sex at Dawn before seeing the play, and…I don’t know…I was pretty convinced by recent thought in evolutionary psych that those early human puppets would have been much more content, connected, and less neurotic than we post-agricultural variety. So, I felt unsatisfied by the cliche premise that unhappiness is a “hard-wired in our brains” kind of thing, instead of a “we have really, really left our natural environment and social system behind” kind of thing. Forgive me for not speaking sooner. I only saw the poster on closing weekend, booked a last-minute babysitter, and literally ran to the theatre.