“. . . OR YOUR FACE WILL FREEZE LIKE THAT!”
Gonged by Mr. T. Now how many Chicago actors can say that? The White Boys With Rhythm are mighty proud of their national television appearance and the infamous judge who gonged them off the air. To show us what a schmuck Mr. T really is, Robert McKersie and Michael Westerholt perform their entire Ninja Twins routine in “. . . Or Your Face Will Freeze Like That,” pretending to be inept Asian acrobats with large objects stuffed in their tights. Throughout the routine, indeed throughout the entire show, I asked myself; where is Mr. T when you need him? This is one of the most sophomoric, insulting, and just plain stupid comedy revues I have ever seen.
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No one in this five-member troupe can carry a tune, but there are several songs in the show. Bad wigs and loosely stuck-on mustaches substitute for character development. The videotapes used make home movies look like Lucasfilms. At one point, sandwiched between two of the group’s video sketches, a short snippet from an old movie or television show appears for no apparent reason. Though it looks like something that was on the tape before the so-called comedians recorded their own skits over it, it turns out to be one of the more entertaining moments of the evening, its presence lending to the proceedings a touch of absurdity that the White Boys don’t seem to know exists. Unfortunately for them, this snippet also gives the audience some real actors to look at, thereby pointing up the difference between acting and what these guys do.
In other words, the White Boys With Rhythm set up a situation in which bizarre conversation was bound to take place, then constructed a scene consisting entirely of telling us that bizarre conversation was taking place. Whatever happened to that Acting 101 axiom, “Don’t tell me, show me?” This bunch must have been out swallowing goldfish during that lesson.
The most intelligent thing the group has done is to eliminate the intermission. Even so, once the check comes and the end is in sight, the audience’s sense of anticipation becomes palpable–it’s almost a countdown. The night I saw the show, the Roxy’s patrons started responding to requests for suggestions by offering their feelings about the quality of the entertainment. Asked to name an emotion that one character might feel for another, someone in the audience shouted “revulsion.” Asked to name a slight quirk that a character might have, one patron answered “half a brain.”
