There has been some social-media grumbling among theater lovers about the illogical compartmentalization of arts-reviewing beats and observations about how, in the glory days of an Arthur Miller and Eugene O'Neill, these things were not so divided. A serious movie lover would have seen such a play as a matter of course (as did Michael Phillips of this newspaper). I see that point but there is a lot more to keep track of now, culturally speaking. Rare is the arts, literary or dining critic who has not reviewed something with sadly limited knowledge of the source. In my particular glass house, I could not throw any such stone. My issue here is that a play not working as a film does not tell you a hill of beans about its efficacy or even its lasting value as a theatrical work.