JACQUES BREL’S DEAD AND WE’RE NOT FRENCH
Sarantos Studios
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But the ideas are novel. The songs include a rollicking hymn to cheese allergies, a tribute to the underutilized “Kitchens of the People Who Don’t Cook,” a Stephen Foster-style salute to sailing, a deft, weirded-out new-wave paranoid fantasy, complete with punk fright wigs, called “Rhonda’s Nightmare Ball,” the bizarre theme song from a cable series, “Part Time Posse” (aren’t they all?), and “DNA,” the upbeat finale that gives us a new, all-purpose excuse for our every failing.
Though it sounds tailor-made for AT&T, a female duet called “The Phone” richly and quickly suggests the tenacity of a friendship that’s flourished mainly over the wires. Well supported by Paul Botts on piano and Greg Shanley on drums, the songs are belted out by the leather-lunged cast with all the conviction of first-time composers.
More often than not, they take it pretty far. If not ready for prime time (hey, this is late-night fare), the improvs I saw over some two hours were fairly fresh stuff, refreshingly rooted in character rather than in a push for the quick orgasm of a snappy punch line. For the most part the ten performers were spontaneous self-starters who listened well and built on each other’s energy; there were no attempts to look good by flummoxing the other person or by trying to turn a scene into a monologue.
