SF Weekly's review of by Joe Mader September 13, 2000 Kevin Augustine's stunning, mysterious play has the strange beauty of a David Lynch movie and its own skewed, desperate vision. Augustine wrote, directed, built the puppets, and performs this enigmatic version of the Frankenstein story, assisted onstage by two gifted puppeteers, Jane Catherine Shaw and Carol Binion. Andrew (Augustine) awaits his fiancee on his wedding day; she fails to appear. Andy subsumes his pain in a plan to create a man who can dance to Tchaikovsky. He enters a strange contest for "Creators," others who are attempting the same thing as him, some who've achieved acclaim for their results and who arouse his envy. Andy's creature, the puppet Daniel, begins to take form -- his haggard, misshapen face, his scarred, patchwork body -- but his legs cause Daniel too much pain to dance as his progenitor has planned, and Andy despairs. As he lies on the floor in pain, certain he's failed, Daniel begins to dance, and the moment is overwhelming. 10 is a great and terrible fable about art and love.