Ah, musings.

This blog will have no agenda. It will have no overall cohesive theme. It will not be organized. It is, quite simply, place for me to ramble when the mood strikes. I write here for your reading pleasure, so sit back, relax, and enjoy.

It seems to portend a dim future that my first post would about someone else's art, but I just can't keep it in. I recently had the distinct pleasure of attending a performance of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein. I have been a fan of the novel since I was a child, and the Universal adaptation with Karloff is Hollywood horror at it's best. This production was Frankenstein like I've never seen it. It was shocking and physical. It was dark and engaging. It was masterfully played and absolutely hilarious. The troupe, performing this piece, is called 500 Clowns (despite there being only three of them). The name is deceptive, to a modern American audience. These are not the Barnum and Bailey type of clowns that we are used to. The clowns of which I speak are distant predocessors to today's circus clowns, with a more European flavor. A little less costume, a little less silly, definately not as kid friendly. In this portrayal of the classic story we have actors playing characters, playing characters. At no point are the characters not aware of the fact that they are putting on a show. An austere, best described as, children who appear as adults trying to perform a play (as adults), provides an endearing quality.
We are told that our actors are named Bruce, Shank, and Kevin. Bruce assumes the role of the oldest clown, bossing the others around while completely inept himself. He is a hilarious commentary on the culture of middle management. Bruce maintains the qualities of the Moe Howards of comedy, self confident and pushy. The others, to comic ends, are too stupid or unsure of themselves, that they just listen to him. Kevin, an unimposing young woman, provides comic relief with all the sublety of a hurricane. She appears to be the smartest of the three. Kevin both disregards her assigned position in the play and has the wit necessary to hold it all together. The perpetual attention hog, as is common to children, she keeps up the pace from beginning to end. Then there is Shank. Shank is the, hands down, star of the show. Brilliantly costumed, Shank is a loveable peon. He's the muscle, the loyal servant, the stupid whipping boy, the most genuinely relatable character of the trio.
Five minutes before the show starts, the show starts. 500 Clowns offers a generous dose of audience involvement, making us laugh with them as well as at them. I cannot stress enough, this is physical comedy at it's peak. A heap of bumbleing is brilliantly topped with excessive over complication. By this I mean, when a character attempts a task (in good clown fashion) the character will try the most indirect method possible, resulting in situations and stunts which induce spontaneous applause repeatedly. Some of the bits are nothing short of genius, often very dangerous.
The story itself is completely ignored. For an hour I laughed and watched with childish glee, suddenly, I realized, "This isn't Frankenstein". Until then, they had done little except introduce cast and mention the name of the novel. Like a bolt of lightening, there it was, the entire story unfolds in moments, so fast I almost didn't notice. Masterfully performed, they seem less clowns than classically trained thespians. I felt it, I believed it, I actually avoided making eye contact with the monster; he was so angry. The room feel still and quiet, we were engaged, nothing else existed. They effortlessly inject final moments of laughter, uncomfortable, but sincere. Then it ends...all too soon.

500 Clowns is performing Frankenstein and Macbeth at the Steppenwolf Theater in Chicago. It is more than worth the ticket price.