Review: Erotic Jewish Story Improv

Here’s my review of Howard Lieberman’s one-man improv show, Erotic Jewish Story Improv.  I attended this show because of course I love to have fun with religion, and I also like combining sex and religion. So I wanted to see what this show had to offer. I attended with a friend who said he’d not liked Howard’s show last year, but last year it had been with another man and entirely different. My friend said he ended up pleasantly surprised, and I too enjoyed the show.

Howard took his suggestions from fortune cookies, which came in a box that we passed around like a game of musical chairs. Whomsoever upon the box of cookies landed when the music stopped would have to open a cookie and read the fortune as the suggestion. As the show was improvised and will never occur this way again, I will give you an idea of the stories, because they were so good I want to share their energy a bit.

Howard’s stories were really quite touching. He improvised a story about his character’s loss of virginity with a black woman in college. In their Wisconsin town, back in the sixties, it was unheard of that there might be an interracial, interreligious relationship. All the white students ignored them, so Howard was the only white person at his table in the cafeteria. He said he hadn’t meant it that way, but that he had simply formed a completely organic attraction to the woman, as anyone would do… humans are simply led along by their hormones into situations like this. He spoke of young love as we have all experienced it- the timidity of initializing contact, the awesomeness and amateurity of that first sexual experience, and so on. And then, one day, he was no longer welcome at his usual table, and no one would look at him. Finally the woman he loved deigned to speak to him- she told him they wanted nothing to do with him, because that day, “your people killed Dr. King.” Sounds a lot like “your people killed our King and Saviour”, or any other such useless excuse for division among humanity. An idea as old as humanity and affecting all ultimately arbitrary categories of persons.

Howard says he uses humor in his stories, which are dark, because humor saves one from the darkness. Humor is the way that the Jewish race has survived, he says. I like dark comedy. I like dark improvisation. It’s more real that way. It means more.

Howard told a story of growing up with a close friend, the kind of close friend with whom one so identifies that one begins to do what they do. He said that this friend taught him how to speak and move and listen to certain kinds of music. His friend confessed that he’d been sleeping with a male nurse, and that he didn’t want to be that way, but that he couldn’t stop because it felt so right, and he asked his friends to please not stop being friends with him. Howard didn’t know why he wouldn’t be friends with him. Then one day his (closeted) father forbid him to see this friend anymore, because this friend was a “faygele”. Howard learned what that meant, and learned that people thought it was wrong, and learned to exercise a prejudice he didn’t even really have. I think lots of people are pushed into doing that through peer pressure or thanks to the useless, warped, and outdated morality of their family. He never talked with that friend again, until one day he heard over Facebook that this friend wanted to give him a call. He said that was okay. The friend never called.

Howard told a story of being a rich German boy who was suddenly taken to Auschwitz. He told of the various horrors one would see and hear about. He told of driving his body to the brink of exhaustion doing the work of an “animal”, as the Nazi soldiers called him. He went to his barrack to sleep on his plank that night completely sore. But he was still a human boy. Because he was human, he reached out to do something human- to make himself feel good, there in Auschwitz on his plank. He thought of רחל (Rachel; ewe; one with purity) as he touched himself, and he said it was as though Raḥel was truly there with him, though he was alone. And thus he felt the presence of God, and this, I think, was the most touching part of the show. Even, and often especially, when we are alone, God is there. We are humans experiencing divinity.

Howard also told a story about his Bar Mitzvah. He told of how his turn came to recite the Torah. He stood there in front of everyone to recite, and then he looked at his date. At this point in the story, Howard looked at me, for I was the only female in the audience. He said that he’d never seen this girl wearing anything quite so interesting- lace all around a low-cut neckline, which seemed very mysterious and intriguing to him at thirteen years of age. And so he became very distracted from his recital, and he also became aroused. So he was pitching a tent right there next to the Holy of Holies. I thought this was very funny. And it just goes to show you that sex and religion just cannot be separated even if you do have a Holy of Holies right there next to you. He had finally looked away from me, too, at some man, which was good for comedic effect, and later he told me it was because he said he felt inappropriate! Many think I am underage, but I told him that I’m not and not to worry- it’s kind of hard to be inappropriate with me, of all people. I seem innocent on the outside, but anyone who knows me knows quite the opposite. I know full well we are sexual beings and I would rather have fun with that than feel shame over it- shame is a useless emotion that helped to cast us out of Eden anyway.  Just so long as men exercise the law of love, humor is of course welcome.

All in all, I had a fantastic time at this show, and recommend it to anyone who isn’t squeamish about sexual and Judaic themes.

Review: William Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar: The Death of a Dictator, adapted by Orson Welles and The Gangbusters Theatre Company

Of course I went to see Julius Caesar.  Julius Caesar is one of my very favorite historical figures, and I like Shakespeare too.  Oh, I had an excellent time.

To begin with, there was complimentary wine. As I have said, this gives so many points. Wine and theatre are a holy combination and more should recognize this. I gave thanks and said my blessing for the wine, being very grateful to Dionysos and the Universe for having provided it to me. Later, it of course offered a good means by which to socialize with the actors and crew and so forth.

I read a review earlier which said it thought “The production foolishly substitutes emotion with blood. The emotionally wrought betrayal of Caesar is lost to fantastical gore effects. The raw breakdown of Brutus is replaced with yelling and knife wounds. The production’s strongest players (much to the offense of Shakespeare) were the women.” Strange confusing sexist remark aside, I disagree entirely. Also, where were these fantastical gore effects I was promised? It’s not like there were buckets of blood and entrails being thrown about. There was about as much blood- perhaps even less- than was appropriate. I would not have minded more blood. I mean, when someone is stabbed twenty-three times, do you expect there to be no blood? Do you expect there to be no yelling and knife wounds? Do you expect Brutus to talk it out with his dying maybe-father like he would with a therapist on a sanitized couch? And when conspirators have retreated from battle, do you expect them to look as if they had come from the spa? The review also said “attempts to update the piece further with a Metallica soundtrack and a score by composer Bone Douglas were both distracting and ill-fitting.” Again, I completely disagree. Again, I could have used more Metallica! Why, it pretty much only occurred during scene changes. I thought it fit beautifully with the tone of the piece. It helped me delve so much further into the mood, and improved the play by leaps and bounds as far as I am concerned. It excited great emotions within my body; I was not distracted, but inserted. Honestly, I wish plays were modernized more often in this fashion. It is far more relevant to the youth of today. And I’m pretty sure the old ladies behind me in the second row liked it too.

I enjoyed that the actors kept a good pace with the show. That is hard to do in any play, much less Shakespeare. Even though I should say I have a better understanding of English than many, since it’s fucking Shakespeare there were a few lines I just didn’t understand when they flew by me. But at least it sounded more like the rhythm of a song when escaping the mouths of the actors rather than the drawn-out pretentiousness of an actor pretending he feels what his character is feeling when he really doesn’t. I saw none of that latter nonsense.

I enjoyed the casting choices- the cast was all talented each in their own way, and they were all young and fit and attractive, suitable for violent choreography, but they were diverse in appearance otherwise. Unlike those productions in which people such as HBO tend to cast a bunch of old white British guys in the roles of senators, I enjoyed seeing for the first time in my life Caesar and Cassius as beautiful, strong, dark-skinned black men. It lends another feeling entirely to hear the deepness of such voices, too.

I enjoyed Antony’s speech very much. To watch as the carouser found his friend dead, wept, cursed Rome, and then to see as he manipulated the crowd against the conspirators satisfied unseen parts of my being. I could feel the effect like a wave, the wave that must have swept over Rome long long ago. And I could see this effect in the actor- when he finished, it looked as though he had just culminated sexually or been stimulated and then drained by a powerful black magic spell- he had certainly accomplished something great, something a human being does not often do.

I also so very much enjoyed the lighting. It was the best lighting I’ve seen in the Fringe. It fit the play so well. The lights were startling beams of white in a dark black sea. There was more dark than light through the entire piece, it seemed. Paired along with the excellent choices in music, it was like a creepy dream, fitting well all the mentions of the omens indicating Caesar’s death. It fit well the furtive arranging of conspiracy, the horrid murder, the curse of Antony, and the pitiful flight and defeat of the conspirators unto suicide. It kept the darkness close around us like a shroud, like a dark mother of night whom we know and who knows us intimately, and who will come to know us more upon our own deaths, keeping her close and present with the audience and not just separated, not just for characters of long ago.

Indeed, though these people lived thousands of years ago, they still felt present. As I watched I was reminded of former trance states when I had begged to be returned to “reality”. I thought of the reality of watching a play- surely I was grateful to have been returned to reality so that I could watch the drama unfolded by actors before me. I thought to remember this should I ever again experience a bad trip. Surely it would comfort me? We humans love to watch drama unfold, we love to watch the story arc, the characters, and the climax of conflict. Yet, in order for this to exist… we need humans with drama. These were real people to whom this really happened. I thought of this as I watched the actors display the poor souls before me. That these humans should have experienced all this, that which entertains me for a night, is awesome in the sense that the magnificence of a star, the size of which we cannot imagine, is awesome.

I recommend this play to anyone who likes Shakespeare and honest violence; honest exploration of the dark side of humanity.

Review: The Sex Life of Achilles

I loved this show from beginning to end. I may be biased in that I am a classicist, the Iliad is my favorite poem, and Achilles is one of my favorite heroes of all-time… but I think anyone would have enjoyed this.

I met the playwright and others before the show, at Bryan’s Bar. They recommended it to me and I told them I would certainly come- how could I not? The playwright and narrator, David LeBarron, told me that he is a Priest of Thetis. I am not sure if he was joking or serious- even if he was joking, he is at least partially serious, considering that he is a bard who so honors the son of Thetis through the holy ancient art of theatre, and he labeled the theatre space as the Temple of Achilles. A fitting and honorable temple. I told him in all seriousness that I am a Priest of Ganymede, and we cheered the bartender.

I’ll just start with the beginning: Before I went into the theatre, I purchased wine. It was a special Malbec which the theatre’s bartender/Ganymede recommended to me. He asked me about it as he had given up drinking. I told him it was quite good- I told him it felt better going down my throat more than it tasted good. He told me that is the tannin. I discover that I enjoy tannin. Perhaps it is sad that I love Dionysos so and do not know as much as I could about wine- I can’t smell very well, so I can’t taste very well, but I do try, and I am learning a little more with every new bottle.

I took the glass into the theatre. I love theatres in which one may drink. I think that is a holy observance. I sat in the front row, the Emperor’s Seat, so that I might have the most pleasing view, the view that the ancients gave to the judges, the Emperor, and Dionysos. I saw the set up-close and personal, and enjoyed being close with the actors as well. Thetis was close for much of the play, and the narrator even came to interact with the audience a bit, sitting two seats away from me. I love that about theatre. I also enjoyed this play’s program- it was, I think, the best program I’ve seen in the Fringe so far. It was arranged as a papyrus scroll, and the descriptions were fantastic. For example, in the Who’s who of Ancient Greece:

 

Achilles: the hot legend of the Iliad, perfect

Patroclus: his super sexy lover and kissing cousin

Briseis: his gorgeous slave trophy and wife

Agamemnon: King of Argos, an asshole

Priam: King of Troy, old as shit, lots of kids

Cerberus: the 3 headed dog of Hades and Hogwarts

Zeus: Father and King of the Gods, man-whore

Hera: His meddling wife, Goddess of Prop 8

Aphrodite: Goddess of Love, born from balls/foam

 

and this was lovely:

 

Special Thanks:

Akbar, Jeffrey Wylie, Frank Helmer, TON, And props to Homer (not Simpson) and the other dead dudes. And to Dionysus without whom we mightn’t have made it.

So that gives you an idea of the tone of the show. There were lots of great jokes like that- I love it when writers can take an ancient story and make it accessible to modern audiences. Modern audiences require modern language. Like when the goddesses came to Zeus asking who was most beautiful- the goddess of Love, the daughter sprung from his own head, or his wife? Says the narrator, “Zeus knew he was fucked.”

 

The premise of the show was that the narrator, Acheanus, “slave courier of Achilles, no literary basis” retold the story of Achilles to Thetis with the help of Briseis. Briseis was played by Shanna Beauchamp, “Briseis, Fight Choreo, Actor, Educator, Amazon, and lover of words.” She really did look like an Amazon; she was lovely. Thetis (Rebecca Norris, Thetis, Composer) entered in the beginning with a tragic mask, sang awhile, and reclined on pillows at my feet for most of the show to watch the other two perform.

 

For Acheanus and Briseis, this retelling was bittersweet. They told of how it was necessary that they should tell this story, so that they could remember a man they had so loved, so that, through the bard’s work, he might remain immortal. Through reconstructing their memories of him, it was like keeping their lover present with them.  As another reviewer said, it was like therapy.

Acheanus said he would begin his modern retelling of the story of Achilles and started with, “Yo, yo, I speak of Achilles-” then stopped and shook his head, signalling that he would not try to rap, and we all laughed very much. Yeah, I wouldn’t have wanted to hear poor rapping from a white man trying to look cool. No, he stuck to what he did well. He was funny and touching.

Though the play was titled the Sex Life of Achilles, it talked about more than sex. It spoke of much of his mythology. Yet, unlike in the Iliad wherein it will simply say something such as “Achilles loved Patroclus more than all others”, the romance was explored, which I love. I’m a romance kind of girl. It explored his relationship with Patroclus, Briseis, and also Troilus. Acheanus said that when Achilles spent an entire night in the temple of Apollo experiencing tantric sex with Troilus, that the stars in the heavens shone more brightly- because they wanted to lean in and spy. How beautiful.

Acheanus and Briseis sometimes explored movement, which, as I have said, I adore and think should be a bigger part of art and life. Through movement they expressed the sexual relationships of Achilles, and also a bit of violence. It was truly beautiful to watch their bodies interact with each other, the rhythm, and gravity onstage.

 

If I had one criticism I suppose it would be that of the role of Thetis in the beginning. She was, of course, serving as the inspiring goddess as happens in great artistic works, though it is perhaps unusual to have Thetis herself instead of a Muse. She was inspiring Acheanus to do this. However, she was not only inspiring him, but forcing him. Now, this is understandable. Sometimes the gods force one to take actions such as this. And with a goddess of the sea, this can be particularly tempestuous. Yet her anger was so emphasized early on I found myself losing connection with her character- I would hope for a goddess to be slightly more enlightened than to focus so on her own anger. But, well, I suppose we all become lost in our emotions, do we not? Sometimes we all identify so heavily with our emotions that we think we are them, and that they are neverending, and that our wrath may be visited upon others. It is just that I felt no divine connection to the goddess at that point. Later, it would improve- I would feel more empathy for her as I watched her play with her child son and lament his death.

I enjoyed that the actors played with the idea that divinity is jealous of mortality. The immortal is jealous of the mortal, who, having such frail bodies in a single short lifetime, feel everything very, very strongly. This is true of all of us, who have immortal souls in mortal bodies. This is a daily reality, which I felt touched by as I watched the artistic exploration.

I felt touched by a great deal of this play. Why, by the end, I could not really stop myself from crying. No matter how many times one has read the Iliad in English or Greek, it is so much different to see actors reenact events onstage. It is so much more real. To see as the fabled war from those thousands of years ago is played out again in all its terrible bittersweet tragedy, to see as a goddess mother loses her beautiful boy, to see as an old king comes to beg a young man for the body of his son, to see as lovers love so strongly and then lose. I thank everyone involved in this play for making this possible. I recommend this play to anyone and wish there were more like it.

Review: Headscarf and the Angry Bitch

I knew I wanted to see this show just because of the awesome promo pictures. I love having fun with religion.

 

Because of said personal preference, and the quality, this show was my favorite of the festival thus far. And did not theatre and religion begin as One in a beautiful celebration of life?

I approached Zehra Fazal after the show, at Bryan’s Bar, to compliment her and tell her how much I loved her show. I rarely do this on purpose- go out of my way to approach an artist and compliment him or her. I only do it if the art really touched me. I told her it was perfect. I told her that, as a Catholic, I feel the exact same way on the topics of which she spoke and sang. Topics included: Breaking “rules”, love of Allah, sex, prayer, ritual, homosexuality, acceptance, and so forth.

Zehra’s show was played as if she were the character “Zed Headscarf”, giving lectures to educate others on Islam, into which she inserted her fun folk-rock parodies. Islam is much misunderstood and she asks us to give it a chance, which is excellent. I think Islam is a beautiful religion. Okay, I think most religions are beautiful. I think they are all One, for we all celebrate the same One Reality. I think all mysticisms are the same mysticism, but only masked by sectarian theory and localized custom and traditions. Not that I’m saying that’s a bad thing. The variety is great. It’s only when tradition is utilized for “evil”- that is, that which is against the law of love- I would judge tradition as not beautiful. But that is only the fault of the individual enforcing said sad tradition, not the fault of the faith itself, which is pure and leads to the same truth as any faith.

As for Islam, as Zed said, a Muslim is “One who submits to God.” Submission to God is so sweet and lovely, though many who have not done so may disagree. In Islam, one has a relationship with Allah, the Unknowable. I love this premise Zehra uses of education on Islam- by making other humans more aware, Zehra is indeed performing well the mass heal spell upon society which theatre is intended to facilitate.

Zed explained to us Halal- that which is okay by Islam- and Haraam- that which is forbidden by Islam. Now, personally I would say that easily and of course means Halal is that which is loving and Haraam is that which is not- the same rule is found in any religion but only under different sectarian labels. However, many Imams would disagree with me. Said Imams would insist that old rules which were once in place to keep things loving (but that are no longer necessary to keep things loving) must be carefully observed. Or these Imams would insist that rules which have evolved to mean something different than before (which are now clearly interpreted as something which they were not when they began in oral tradition), which are now under their current interpretation not loving rules… must be observed. Whereas I should say there’s no reason. Some traditions such as Islam once put in place a rule not to eat pork because improperly cooked it causes sickness, even though we did not know about trichinosis back then. But priests had to make rules so that people wouldn’t die. Now we know about trichinosis and we know how to cook pork, so this rule is, well, moot if you like. Ahh, I AM HARAAM. Or am I? These men think so. Such is the nature of men who cling to labels past their expiration date, in any religious tradition. Yet many of us can see beyond these label-traps. Labels need not last forever and they do not make us bad people, just as they do not make Zed a bad Muslimah, as just watching her play will illustrate.

 

In the play, the Imams disapproved of Zed’s choices. They fired her from her lecture series after hearing some of her songs, which they judged as Haraam. But I do not think Zed to be Haraam, and I applaud her honest exploration of Islam and God. How many times have I myself been called heretic or false prophet? But Zed and I love Allah, and He loves us. The law of love is so much more simple than so many clerics would have the populace believe! Why yes, love and alcohol, love and sex, love and bacon are not mutually exclusive.

In Zed/Zehra’s songs, she describes her own way of experiencing life and Islam for comedic effect. Through this, she personalizes Islam and gives it a human face to which we can relate. For instance, in the very beginning, during her first lecture, she realizes that she has forgotten her Quran. She runs off to retrieve it and returns. She blows a great, giant cloud of dust off the book before speaking on it.

Zehra’s technique was quite good- she is a great singer and guitarist, and her comedic timing and acting are great too. I loved her parodies; they were great fun. Now, I told Zehra I thought her show to be perfect, but to be fully truthful, there was one thing I disliked- one of her songs was a parody of a Lady Gaga song, and I cannot stand to be witness to the sounds which the Princess of Banality creates. But that is, again, personal preference. And just as I enjoy Lady Gaga’s appearance, so too did I greatly enjoy Zehra’s costume during this song. It was a rainbow headscarf and a cape made of Pakistani and American flags. She reminded me so much of Joseph and his coat- one of my favorite stories in the Bible.

zomg I can see her hair haraaaaam

I may have let this review delve somewhat deeply into theology, but theatre is indeed intrinsically connected with the spiritual, and theatre is indeed intended to change society, and it gets us talking about religion. We need to do that. I think we need to do that without resorting to calling one another Haraam and Heretic and Oblivious and creating such schisms that we can no longer stand to speak with one another. Dionysos, ancient Greek God of Theatre, is also God of Other. We cannot look at Other and judge him as inhuman, so that we would feel no compuction in breaking the law of love against him. We know well in Fringe- Fringe! For Dionysos is God of Liminality- that we are all Other.

Once after a lot of martinis a lover’s sister thought it was a great time to tell me she thinks there is something fundamentally wrong with Catholicism (because some clerics in our number are rapists). Once after I’d just come out of the Pagan closet, I searched for others who love Dionysos as I do, and was so pleased to find an active worshipper. I wanted to make friends and share theological discussion cleric to cleric for both our improvements. Then I read him say he thinks there to be something fundamentally wrong with Islam (because some clerics in their number oppress women). I wished to discuss with him that all faiths are beautiful and lead to Truth, and that only individuals are insane assholes and insist on laws which are not of the law of love, because as I said, I want to share theological discussion openly with others for growth. This man labeled me oblivious, told me I spoke of unrelated tangents, and said he would block me from all communication. We have not spoken since.

I am a little sad that haters and assholes can be found in any religion, but what did I expect? At any rate, there is nothing wrong with Catholicism. There is nothing wrong with Islam. There is nothing wrong with Paganism. Many hate, yes, but the true faith is holy and beautiful, and you don’t have to pay attention to haters. Don’t believe what they say if that takes you off the path of a beautiful relationship with the divine. There are ways to be a true adherant. Through such sacred art as Zed kindly offers us, we may unite as one humanity rather than hate one another. I know theatre can save the world, and her play is just the sort which helps to accomplish this divine mission.

I wholeheartedly recommend this show.

Review: “Real Time” by The Peoplehood

I came to this show because it was free, and so I thought I’d support that, attend, and do a review. I didn’t really have any idea what it would be about. I did rather enjoy myself. As I entered, the cast was already performing, jamming with their musical instruments and dancing. There was a guitar and a flute and a drum. The cast was very diverse in appearance and clothing, which I enjoyed. The stage decoration was mostly dominated by a colorful desert-type Native American patterned rug. I enjoyed the feeling of this immediately- already, I knew I was participating in real theatre. Just as real theatre began as a celebration of life with music and dancing around a fire, so too did this evoke such a feeling, connecting me with primal humanity.  It reminded me of the drumming my native ancestors must have done before my family lost touch with such tradition.

I knew that it would only be a half-hour long, so I knew that we would not be inducing any ecstatic trances through prolonged drumming, chanting, and dancing, but that I was teased with it at the edge of my consciousness was enough.

I felt the realness, the presence of the actors, who were so pleased to be presenting their art to us. And indeed, this art was participatory. They had each audience member participate at least once, I think. As for my part, I read a flashcard which stated something like: Ubuntu is a language very difficult to render into English. After each flashcard the actors would enter into a new theme. For this theme, they tried to teach us a little Ubuntu and discussed some Ubuntu ideas which I thought were lovely. In Ubuntu, everyone knows that they are not merely an individual, but that their identity depends on everyone else. Your own worth and success depends upon that of others around you. We are inseparate. An idea lost on so many native English speakers today.

The actors also discussed that they are the Peoplehood. Now, the actors were from all over the world and descend from very diverse ancestors, but they called themselves the Peoplehood. We are all the people of the world. We are all one tribe, after all. They told us that their name expressed that we should be spending real time with people.  Time is so important, and so illusory, and so fleeting.  They personified Time in a lovely fashion.  There was also a very beautiful scene in which two lovers met in the Gaza strip and were killed (which has happened). We saw, expressed through theatrical movement, their humanity and their death. I could tell that these actors loved one another, and they expressed that love is the universal impulse- and that we must all love one another to function well in this universe. Love is the only law. I had to stop myself at certain points from crying a little when they would express all these things. They touched upon what is real in life, you see.

The actors were all still on book, but that they were able to do such real, present work, and touch me so, means I do not think it detracted that much from the piece. The Fringe is just the place for such experimental theatre, after all. I complimented them after their show and discovered that they had only met a couple of weeks ago. How amazing!

I recommend this show to anyone who wants to connect with love and humanity.

Review: How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse

I attended Zombie Apocalypse with great expectations. There are several shows about the Apocalypse this year, and I adore said topic. Obviously I am biased as I am a member of an apocalyptic cult, that is, Catholicism.

 

Now, I will say there were both good and bad aspects to this show. As for the good aspects, it started off well. We were greeted by the actors, already in character, which was charming and lovely, and given stickers with our names on them. The nametags were related to my favorite part of the show. The show contains within it a game. The actors ask the audience questions, and if one should get a question wrong, one is theoretically dead, should a Zombie Apocalypse occur. Most of the audience died. When one dies, one must remove one’s name-sticker. I got most questions right and was actually doing much better than I thought I would, but I died because I am an actor, and “what use is an actor” in the apocalypse, ask… the actors. A silly way to die, as much of the show was silly. That’s not bad, that’s just their style, if you’re into that.

I guess I can get into that style if it’s done really well, but some of the silly bits dragged on quite long. I thought the show could have been much shorter if some bits were left to a short, sweet joke. Some of the jokes felt a bit like the fifth Harry Potter book or the last Harry Potter movie- really, you don’t need to be so in love with every bit of your art that you have to show it to everyone. But I hear the kids loved it. I hear the kids were having a fantastic time. But at ten-thirty at night, me and my adult friend were just waiting for them to get on to the next part of the game rather than indulge in a drawn-out joke.

The actors were playing characters who research what a Zombie Apocalypse would be like so that they might help the human race and themselves to have the best chance of survival. Each played a silly character. Now, this can be quite good. And it sometimes was. I liked the characters. And some people had a perfectly great time. But again, the charm wore a little thin here after awhile. It’s great for a bit, but not so drawn out as it was. Silliness such as they had must be very, very supported, and comedy must contain truth, the truth within its own universe anyhow, and perhaps levels of depth in that truth, but I felt this was somewhat lacking here.

Now, I think the actors themselves are fantastic people, so far as I know them, but I must be honest in my review. So I had some fun, and you might enjoy yourself immensely, but I was a little bored, and my friend actually fell asleep. I wouldn’t attend again unless I’d heard they’d improved their act.

Review: Jon Armstrong’s I Do Card Tricks and I’m Funny

I saw this show last year, and I am friends with Jon, so I thought I would attend again. His shows were pretty much sold out, which is good- this has been a successful Fringe for him, and no wonder. I don’t see how anyone could not like his show.

Now, I am a magician of a “different” sort, but that doesn’t mean we can’t all get along. I have heard magicians of my sort defaming magicians of Jon’s sort, but you know, I don’t think we’re really all that different. So I talk to demons and Jon works with cards- magic is merely an expression of will. He trained his will with cards, and his talent shows. I can’t imagine the work he must have put in over the years to achieve this level of skill. He can do such amazing things with cards that even someone like me who speaks with demons cannot help but be astounded. I would hear my friends express their disbelief afterward- they did not know how any mortal man could accomplish such feats. They thought there must have been at least a little devilry involved.

A lot of the act was the same as last year, but it was still great and bewildering to see it a second time. Some if it was new, and it was great to see new things to blow my mind. No, seriously, the things he does with cards are great. And he is funny. So I recommend this show to anyone who likes to be amused.