Playwright: created and
performed by 500 Clown
At: The Storefront at the
Gallery 37 Arts Center, 66 East Randolph
Phone: ( 312 ) 742-8497; $15
Runs through: Jan 7
BY MARY SHEN BARNIDGE
No, nobody gets kicked by a reindeer or crushed under a falling tree. Indeed, the 500 Clown ensemble's Christmas show is notably short on the slapstick violence that is their hallmark. To be sure, Clown Jeremy ( played by Chad Southard ) struggles with electric guitar and microphone-stand while dangling in mid-air during the first ten minutes, and later Clown Bruce ( aka Adrian Danzig ) tarzans it up on swinging ropes. And then there's the song entitled 'When You're Dead' in which Molly Brennan's Clown Kevin, the girl with the Tyrannosaurus smile, shows us how—but you'll have to see THAT for yourself.
The most conspicuous addition to the show is a four-piece band led by composer John Fournier, accompanying the Clowns as they warble songs recalling Maestro Subgum and the Whole back in the days when they rocked. These and the spectacles surrounding them are said to be inspired by Dickens' A Christmas Carol: Scrooge's attitude is manifested in 'I Want To be Alone', with the soloist pursued all over the auditorium by cheerful well-wishers, for example, and a trio of Tiny Tims take the lead in 'Merry Christmas from a Blue State' ( thankfully, the show's only political gag ) . There are also songs reflecting holiday spirit everywhere like 'Don't Be Such An Asshole'—featuring 'Carol of the Bells' round-harmonies—and the triumphant conga line shake-it-up 'Dance Like A Monkey'.
A conga line—you heard that right. Audience members are also invited to participate in a collective toast, to assist in setting and striking equipment therefor, and to donate objects for the Clowns to play with ( everything but candy is returned to their owners after the show ) . Sitting in the middle of even-numbered rows offers some protections to spotlight-shy spectators.
But so innocently convivial are our hosts that we feel perfectly safe joining in the fun and festivities. Since these are NOT the kind of you're-a-jerk stunts beloved of cabaret comedians, why hide under the chairs? As the final song exhorts us, 'Save your sorrow/for tomorrow/There's no fee for breaking free'.