Last night, after the performance a middle-aged man was sitting at the table where the actors were drinking.
He pronounced Thomas Bernhard as if Thomas Bernhard was a French writer, and he suffered from intermittent outbursts of self-love. During such an outburst, he could not stop speaking about the marvelous things he had done in his life.
The acting itself is still enjoyable, but the drinking binges afterwards are getting on my nerves.