Written by: Amanda Blake Davis, Alex Fendrich, Rob Janas, Niki Lindgren, Nicky Margolis, Andy St. Clair
At: Second City e.t.c., 1608 N. Wells
Contact: ( 312 ) 337-3992; $18, $24
Runs through: Open run
BY CATEY SULLIVAN
Now if only every illegal immigrant brought a bushel of marijuana into the country with them to share, the whole wall thing would be unnecessary. We'd be the welcoming bring-me-your-tired, etc., country the Statue of Liberty advertises. Then we could all enjoy the Dionysian frenzy of a Thanksgiving blowout that makes this country great—the kind with American Flag bonfires and human piñatas.
And don't even get the cast of Second City e.t.c. started on Martha's Vineyard elitists and the value of cranberry throw pillows in rebuilding Iraq. I mean, I've always been an isolationist, early-American-garage-sale-decor sort of girl myself, so I can't speak to the satirical veracity of that comedic skit but, by God, as someone whose extended family has lived on Cape Cod for the past 100 years, I gotta say—Yep. Spot on kids. John Kerry is Ted Kennedy's bitch. Now trim those sails and pass me some ... I mean, pass me a Coke, willya?
Scabrous where it counts, ridiculous when it matters and directed by Jim Carlson to towering ensemblic strength, the Second City e.t.c.'s Disposable Nation offers the kind of comedy that separates us humans from the primordial ooze. And keep your eyes open for several tableaux of simian creatures slowly straightening up into pillars of rational thinking and opposable thumbs—or, at least, slowly straightening up.
Cast members Amanda Blake Davis, Alex Fendrich, Rob Janas, Niki Lindgren, Nicky Margolis and Andy St. Clair wrote the 29th e.t.c. revue as a twisted commentary on fossil fuel-guzzling tree-huggers, scrap bookers in full-tilt emotional meltdown, tots who've learned the power of preemptive strikes and the bullying whims of intelligent beings when it comes to taking back planet status from more helpless entities like Pluto.
There's a cohesion here that's terrific—the cast jells like perfectly calibrated instant pudding—and an originality applied to topics one might think long since lost their comedic usefulness. I mean, the War in Iraq? Is that an easy target at this point or what?
Well, yes, it is; follies always are. But the Second City troupe doesn't just blather about schadenfreude. It goes deep, examining nation-building as a combination of The Swan and Extreme Home Makeover: Weapons of Mass Destruction Edition.
Then there's the inspired, raunchy silliness of the song Angie, ( no, not that one ) , wherein the vocalists wax lyrical about trains in a way that Amtrak will never use as part of a marketing campaign.
And, of course, while nobody in this melting pot of American Dreams we call the United States is racist, Disposable Nation points out that we do have to draw the line somewhere.
You don't want vampires at your key party. You just don't.