I imagine an undistinguished Athenian might die contented, knowing that he had sat through Aeschylus’s The Oresteia on the hard stones of the Theatre of Dionysus, or some ordinary Elizabethan would console his last moments by recalling how often he had been to the Globe Theatre for Shakespeare. I can go to my death happy that I saw at least twenty of Foreman’s astounding productions of his own work at the Film-Makers Cinematheque, at his theater on Broadway and Broome Streets, and at St. Marks’ Church.