Unlike Jorge at the spetacular conclusion of Eco's "The Name of the Rose," the crazed idealist at the end of Bulgakov's The Master and Margarita declares that "Manuscripts don't burn."
Saw the A.C.T. production of ditto; the staging was magnificent, and the themes of the novel resonated clearly. A little on the long side (3+ hours, with intermission -- coffee! mints!), the play was quite liberal in its interpretation of Bulgakov's witch- and satanic imagery. I didn't notice the sign reading: "Caution: This play contains adult content. Nudity." until leaving the theatre.