Olympia Dukakis is a fine actress even when she merely monologizes on a Florida park bench. In Martin Sherman’s Rose, she is the eponymous octogenarian seemingly riveted to that bench as she recalls her jam-packed life (Ukrainian shtetl, Warsaw ghetto, marriage to a one-eyed painter, grizzly journey on the Exodus, rescue by an amorous American amateur sailor), only squirming a little now and then. I myself squirmed more, and left early.