Two distinct strains of criticism emerge in response to this production. One focuses on the text, a 15-year-old Adam Rapp script directed here by the author. Does it forecast Rapp's later work? Does it deserve a remount in New York? Is it a condescending rant at backwoods America or an admiring, if pale, Sam Shepard imitation? The other, more approving strain of criticism focuses on the production. The Amoralists use Rapp's youthful work as a springboard for their aggressive, balls-out performance style. Consequently, Rapp's identity as director eclipses his identity as playwright in this outing. Rapp fans may be disappointed by the lack of textual refinement, but fans of The Amoralists are likely to be fulfilled by the production.