Spoiler Alert: Everybody Dies At the Second City Mainstage Theatre By Dan Zeff Chicago
– Earlier this year the Second City
e.t.c. company gave its new revue the jaunty and upbeat title “The Absolute
Best Friggin’ Time of Your Life.” The new revue on the main stage is called
“Spoiler Alert: Everybody Dies.” Clearly the mood has darkened at Second City, and
perhaps in the country as a whole. Second City productions generally have never
lacked for attitude, but “Spoiler Alert” raises the bar on anger, cynicism, and
bitterness. Fortunately, the revue is also funny, especially the second act,
but any feel-good element is long gone.
Timothy Edward Mason and Shelly Grossman set the tone
for the edgy revue with a two-character assault on do-gooders. The bit starts
with Wilson accusing Mason of taking seven Chicago Tribunes from a sales box
but just paying for one. Mason then angrily snarls at Grossman that the papers
contain the obituary of his son, a soldier killed by a roadside bomb in the
Middle East. Grossman claims she was just trying to do the right thing in
stopping Mason’s newspaper theft. The two then go back and forth, trying to
outdo each other in describing nasty things they perpetrated in their lives.
The exchange gets lots of laughs but beneath the humor lays a grim layer of
resentment and belligerence. There is a running gag located in an office about a
young woman (Emily Wilson), a single mother who learns she has been laid off
her urgently needed job. Management pulled her name out of a hat in their callous
downsizing. Again, funny on the surface and desolate beneath. A sketch near the end of the evening lampoons the TV
show “America’s Funniest Videos.” The
winning video portrayed a bride being thrown from her horse on her wedding day.
The young woman makes an entrance on stage in a wheel chair, the accident
making her a paraplegic. It’s a funny bit but laughing at the expense of the
crippled bride is a guilty pleasure. Most of the skits deal with personal situations. There
is very little political satire and only a dab of satire on racism. Barack
Obama is mentioned once in passing, the Right Wing (always a favorite Second
City target) is subjected to ridicule in just a couple of quickie bits. Local
politics takes the stage briefly in a funny two-character sketch set at the
Taste of Chicago between a Polish vendor (Allison Bills) and a vendor from
Africa (Sam Richardson). In the best bit of the uneven first act, Mason and Tim
Robinson impersonate a father and son having a heart-to-heart talk on the son’s
wedding day. The son is getting cold feet, and in reassuring the lad about
marrying, the father bares the miseries of his own marriage. Later, Robinson
and Shelly Grossman play dysfunctional parents who are a constant embarrassment
to their young daughter (Wilson). There is even some serious gunplay, with Wilson
concluding the running office gag by wiping out her colleagues with a rifle.
The office gag provides the most inventive material of the evening, with the
performers playing inanimate office objects, like a water cooler. The revue
does not spare the animal kingdom. A bird-loving rifle-toting woman wipes out a
cluster of squirrels for poaching on her bird feeder. On opening night, the revue’s two improvisation
interludes both worked beautifully. In the first, the company solicited objects
from the audience. Grossman then constructed a terrific impromptu monologue
using the items as inspiration. Later, Robinson comes on stage to read his
original play and drafts members of the audience to play characters. It can be
tricky, orchestrating four reluctant, giggling spectators to perform in a comic
sketch but Robinson held it all together. The ensemble is a mix of Second City veterans—Mason,
Wilson, and Grossman—and newcomers—Richardson, Bills, and Robinson. Mason is
the first among equals in the company, a fine actor rather than a comedian and
someone who belongs in a featured role in a strong straight play. “Spoiler Alert” breaks with Second City tradition in
Amy Jackson’s set, which eliminates the traditional doors at the back of the
stage and replaces them with a large abstract photo that resembles a giant
multi-floored parking ramp. The show also continues the recent practice of
loading the dialogue with four letter words, though given the in-your-face
nature of the sketches, the profanity is probably justified. The reliable Matt Hovde directs and Julie B.
Nichols is the musical director. “Spoiler Alert: Everybody Dies” is playing an open run
at the Second City Mainstage Theatre, 1616 North Wells Street. Performances are
Tuesday through Thursday at 8 p.m., Friday and Saturday at 8 and 11 p.m., and
Sunday at 7 p.m. Tickets are $22 and $27. Call 312 337 3992 or visit www.secondcity.com. The show gets a rating of 3 1/2 stars. July 2010 Contact Dan at zeffdaniel@yahoo.com.
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the Second City Mainstage By Dan Zeff CHICAGO—There
aren’t many mentions of the H1N1 virus in the new SecondCity
mainstage revue “Taming of the Flu,” though the company did provide opening
night spectators with small vials of sanitizer hand lotion. But the show does touch on a great many other weighty
matters, like race, photo enforced intersections, twittering, the president’s
health care plan, irritable cab drivers, Canadian expatriates, gays and
lesbians, and the mandatory shot at the futility of the Bears and the Cubs. The sense of the revue is that we live in beleaguered times,
personally and professionally. Technology is all around us, and not necessarily
friendly. Sometimes people get along, but often they do not, and in highly
belligerent ways. It would all be grim if most of “Taming of the Flu” weren’t
so funny.
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Taming of the Flu
The newest revue is the 97th in Second City’s
50-year history. The format remains the same, a sextet of talented young
comedian/actors soaring through a rapid-fire collection of skits and blackouts.
This show is light on improvisation, a couple of attempts falling flat on
opening night because of unresponsive spectators, though the performers
salvaged the moments with some quick wit. But improvisation is always a tricky
business and the next night the improv might have been the highlight of the
evening. The ensemble is mostly mainstage veterans—Emily Wilson,
Shelly Grossman, and Lauren Ash on the female side and Anthony LeBlanc, Brad
Morris, and Andy St. Clair representing the males, though the men spent one
skit wearing wigs as mothers in drag. The star of the evening is Wilson, a
versatile actress/singer who is attached to most of the top materials in the
show. St. Clair and Morris also benefit from some of the revue’s best bits and
make the most of their opportunities. Still, everyone is fine, though newcomer LeBlanc is a little
underused and unfortunately is stuck in a running gag about an angry jilted
lover who keeps the other members of the ensemble hostage in a room because he
has a package of dynamite inside his jacket. The sketch never builds beyond its
one joke premise, though it does have an explosive off stage finish.
But below par items are rare in the show. The Chicago
driver’s fury against photo enforcement cameras got an appreciative giggle from
the audience. Ash accompanies herself on the guitar in a solo about a Canadian
who moves to the United States. The tongue was firmly lodged in the cheek as
the young lady serenaded the audience with the virtues of the United States
over Canada and her joy at living on American soil. Wilson portrays a straight young woman who interrogates a
young lesbian seatmate on a trans continental airplane flight. Wilson started
off the evening’s hilarity in a sketch about a woman infuriated that Brad
Morris was more involved with his twittering than in holding an adult
conversation with her. Again, the shock of recognition rolled through the
audience. Grossman is featured in a weird but funny number about a
foreign woman who loses her home to foreclosure and then launches into a song
and dance announcing over and over that “I am happy.” Grossman also stars in a
solo item about a woman running for alderman in Chicago on the most
self-effacing personal campaign in the history of politics. St. Clair elevates a funny sketch about a Las Vegas style
Mafioso trying to selling health insurance to the audience. That was one of the
improv items that got no help from the patrons, but St. Clair did just fine
with his own hairy-chested bravado. St. Clair joins with Morris on a funny and
extended two-hander about a couple of Chicago policemen on bicycle patrol
taking a break and surveying the Chicago scene with much comic cynicism. There is anger in the satire conveyed by the cast’s three
females impersonating the betrayed wives of adulterous senators. Morris solos in maybe the funniest single bit
in the show, a foreign cab driver enumerating to his invisible backseat
customer why taxi fares needed to be raised. This sketch belongs in the Second
City Hall of Fame. The second act tails off a bit in the middle with a sequence
of brief unrelated bits that are worth a chuckle but don’t light up the stage.
But that is also the act that delivers the taxi driver sketch and the two cops
on their bikes, so the dead spots should be soon forgotten. In the last major sketch, Morris and Ash impersonate French
president Nicolas Sarkozy and his sex wife Carla Bruni who solicit questions
from the audience about socialism in France, not exactly a topic geared to
rouse the spectators to shouting out queries. Possibly a more accessible topic
might bring the audience more resolutely into the material. Morris and Ash work
well together and sounded able to turn any reasonable audience question into a
bright humorous and satirical retort. Mick Napier directs the show with his typically sharp comic
sense. The production has pace and solid visual values from Amy Jackson’s
ornate set (the traditional rear stage half doors are no more) and Lee
Brackett’s lighting. In a nice touch, Ruby Streak, Second City’s stalwart
musical director since 1977, is given a brief keyboard solo spot to open the
second act. “Taming of the Flu” is playing an open run at the Second City
mainstage, 1616 North Wells Street. Performances are Tuesday through Thursday
at 8 p.m., Friday and Saturday at 8 and 11 p.m., and Sunday at 7 p.m. Tickets
are $20 and $25. Call 312 337 3992 or visit www.secondcity.com. The show gets a rating of 3 1/2 stars. December 2009
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America: All Better!
At the SecondCity Mainstage
By Dan Zeff
CHICAGO—The latest revue on the Second City Mainstage certainly has its fingers on the national pulse. As one would expect, the show is loaded with Barack Obama material. There are also sketches on racism, the dismal economy, and politics (local, state, and national). On the non-current events front, the revue provides bits about single and marital relationships, with a heavy tilt toward sex.
Most of the material is funny and occasionally incisive, though too many of the bits need snappier endings. Still, the show rises above the decently entertaining only a few times, but those are moments to treasure.
The first golden bit of the night doesn’t appear until the first act finale. The entire ensemble re-creates a meeting between Mayor Daley and a visiting delegation from the Olympic Games to assess Chicago’s bid for the 2016 summer games. The delegation includes actor Javier Bardeen, representing Spain, and soccer star Pele, representing Brazil. On the other side is the mayor and members of his entourage.
The sketch is a riot of barely concealed insults and misunderstandings between the foot-in-the-mouth mayor and the suspicious visitors. The wisecracks and zingers came so fast and furious that I had trouble keeping up, especially when the performers muttered their lines. But it was one of the funniest slices of satire to invigorate a Mainstage revue in years.
The next magic comic moment comes in the second act. Shelly Gossman impersonates an Eastern European gymnast performing her routine on the narrow wooden rail that divides the seating area in the cabaret. Gossman’s gymnast tiptoes over customer drinks under the guidance of her coaches, who provide running comic commentary. Patrons are brought into her routine along the way. It’s all hilarious, original, and potentially dangerous for Gossman. One slip on an errant ice cube from a customer beverage could send her tumbling to the floor.
Finally, Anthony LeBlanc delivers a hilarious song about interracial love and sex, accompanying himself on the guitar. The song is funny and cuts to the bone of attitudes toward black-white erotic attitudes. The song also is pretty R rated. Overall, I don’t recall a Second City revue with as much profanity and as much explicit comment on sex. A lot of it is funny and true, but earlier Second City revues were just as funny and just as true exploring similar material with not so much as a “hell” or “damn” uttered from the stage.
There were some other good moments. One ensemble bit shifted between theater and pseudo reality as Michael Patrick O’Brien suddenly breaks character to propose to a startled Shelly Gossman. At first it seems like the real thing, but it’s really a spoof with a nice quirky spin.
The revue is light on improvisation. The main bit involved a performer wearing a polar bear head who interrogates a ringside customer about global warming among other topics. On opening night it worked well, largely because the customer said he was an opera singer, which gave the performer plenty of room for comic maneuvering.
The ensemble consists of seven performers, one more than the
traditional allotment at Second City. The group is a mix of Mainstage veterans
and newcomers. They are all quality performers, though nobody steps forward, at
least for the present, as a distinctive performing personality to follow in the
footsteps of previous Second City stars.
The complete roster includes Gossman, LeBlanc, O’Brien, Lauren Ash, Joe Canale, Brad Morris, and Emily Wilson. Canale was especially effective in the show’s comic domestic riffs about child rearing, marriage, and, of course, sex. Wilson has an agreeably abrasive edge to her work, enhanced by her flaming red hair.
Matt Hovde directs and the eternal Ruby Streak is the musical director. Camellia Koo designed the minimalist set and Lisa McQueen created the choreography.
“America: All Better!” aims for all the right targets, and it’s slightly deflating that the troupe doesn’t hit more satiric home runs. But the show overall won’t disappoint, and at its best the revue is well up to the exalted Second City mark.
“America: All Better!” is playing an open run at the Second City Mainstage, 1616 North Wells Street. Performances are Tuesday through Thursday at 8 p.m., Friday and Saturday at 8 and 11 p.m., and Sunday at 7 p.m. Tickets are $20 and $25. Call 312 337 3992 or visit www.secondcity.com.
The show gets a rating of three stars. Dec. 2008
Contact Dan at zeffdaniel@yahoo.com
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No Country for Old White Men
By Dan Zeff
CHICAGO—This being a political year, the new Second City main stage revue, nimbly titled “No Country for Old White Men, “ sharpens its claws at the expense of the three candidates currently in the presidential picture. It’s funny, often razor sharp, and topical, but delivered more in exasperation than in anger, like the skilled Second City ensemble was as bemused and weary as the rest of us as surveying the current political landscape.
The
revue takes equal opportunity shots at Barak Obama, Hillary Clinton,
and John McCain. There is a wry “a plague on all your houses” tone to
the humor, though the show doesn’t assume quite so even handed an
attitude toward George Bush. Much of the material is performed as
rapid-fire questions aimed at the unseen candidates, underscoring the
absurdity of the campaign spinning that inundates us. There is a
spot-on bit lampooning the upcoming tax rebate and a few quick snipes
at the Iraq war.
Political humor actually takes up only about half of the evening. The other half rummages mostly in the dysfunctional family arena, with clever and incisive skits and blackouts pitting husband against wife, lover against lover, grandparent against grandchild, and parent against offspring. The domestic humor was actually a little edgier than the political material, perhaps because the political targets, through no fault of Second City, are much easier to mock.
And then there are the barbs aimed at the rifts in the national social fabric. One of the revue’s bull’s-eyes is a nifty sketch called “The Race Card,” ridiculing how minorities are quick to take offense at even the most inadvertent verbal comment, either out of hypersensitivity or for their own advantage. In another skit, a white woman demonstrates that she is blacker than her African American friend, a spot-on shot at liberal affectations toward black Americans.
Three prisoners at Guantanamo Bay exchange observations about the various forms of torture they face. At an auto repair shop, a manager and his assistant drench women car owners in comical jargon about nonsensical vehicle parts to jack up their bills. Two health care providers cynically explain why their company provides coverage for everything but illness and injury. Three oddly assorted couples accidentally meet at a Ravinia concert, with a hippie couple supplying marijuana good cheer to the two straight couples.
There isn’t much improvisation in this show. But in one improv bit, the British House of Commons comes to the United States to tell us what’s wrong with our society, guided by topic ideas solicited from the audience. Another improvisation stimulated a possibly over-served ringside customer to inject herself into the action, nimbly handled by the performers who doubtless have dealt with aggressive spectators all their Second City lives.
I have noticed that recent Second City revues, the new one included, don’t much bother with local satire anymore. I can’t remember when Mayor Daley or the governor came in for a volley of ridicule on any Second City stage. However, the revue does make room for a delightfully rueful ballad commemorating the centennial of the Chicago Cubs as the ultimate failure in the National League.
The company now is much more open in its use of four-letter words, fortunately with considerable comic effect. Indeed, the exuberant finale extracts much of its hilarity from the repeated use of the f--- word as the ensemble begs the country’s politicians to give us the truth for a change, after eight years of, well, not giving us the truth.
The ensemble is led by the three male members, all veterans of the Second City system. Ithamar Enriquez continues to grow as a comic actor and comedian and one wonders when he leaves us for the lush comic pastures of California. Brad Morris is a hoot as the auto service manager duping the three women, and Joe Canale plays a rich assortment of slimy characters.
The women are all newer to the main stage, with Amber Ruffin the only returning performer. But Emily Wilson and Shelly Grossman both do well, especially Wilson, a petite redhead with a strong stage presence.
“No Country for Old White Men” will go down as one of the funniest Second City revues of the new millennium and a show with virtually no dead spots. Every sketch and blackout worked at some satirical or comic level, a fine blend of good material and excellent ensemble playing unobtrusively but smoothly directed by Jim Carlson. Ruby Streak, as always, was the musical director.
“No Country for Old White Men” is playing an open run at the Second City main stage, 1650 North Wells Street. Performances are Tuesday through Thursday at 8 p.m., Friday and Saturday at 8 and 11 p.m., and Sunday at 7 p.m. Tickets are $19 and $25. Call 312 337 3992.
The show gets a rating of four stars. April 2008
For more information: www.secondcity.com
Contact Dan: zeffdaniel@yahoo.com