Why reviews are suspect

So I read this NY Times review about a one-man show, "ThomPain (based on nothing)." The most laudatory review ever. Sample quote: "run don't walk" to get tickets. I run, as excited as a drug under Courney Love's nose, dying to go up against all the other drugs in her sexy bod. Well, the piece is well-written and well-performed, poor man's Beckett -- but given that my expectations were raised higher than a gnat drowning in a drop of LSD, not quite a full meal. In fact, I dozed off four times; so did my companion. Of course, that single review sold $150,000 worth of tickets in 2 days, including $90 for us two (wonder how much the writer sees of this). I can only think that reviewers sit through such a lot of stinky steaming scrofulous crap, they get carried away when they happen upon something halfway intelligent.