Review by JEFFREY STACKHOUSEJune 16, 2013 certified reviewer
My overall impression
So. Here was my day: I perform an opera at noon. Afterwards, I walk over to Fringe Central Bar and order myself a beer and grab a bag of popcorn. About 3:15, I step next door and realize there’s a pretty long line for White Trash Wedding (who knew?). On line, I talk to a guy in from Rome for one day who asks me what the line is for. Because I am incredibly up my own ass, I try and explain low-brow American humour with references to Benny Hill and English Punch&Judy shows, and how this show, in particular, is probably like being a European and watching an American Western: completely divorced from reality, but kinda America-boiled-down.
He decides he must experience this American art form.
We each buy tickets, and I’m informed at the desk that while I may indeed get my commemorative beer koozie (good while supplies last), they are in fact out of beer (surprisingly more rare than koozies). “This shall not stand” I proclaim, and walk back next door to buy a fresh beer, walk out of Central being chased by well-meaning attendants shouting “Sir, sir!” to my retreating backside (sorry guys), and make it back in time for the show.
Wild and guffaw-level funny. One after the other of smart, able, quick actors on a roll, crushing good taste and common courtesy in their wake.
And then, post-show, I get to discuss the whole moment-to-moment nature of Surrealism with an Italian whose English, while way better than my Italiano, didn’t allow him to keep up with the rat-a-tat of Southern-trailer-trash-talk, and yet felt that this show was “pure Americana, owning it’s form,” while I’m hysterically introducing him to every cast-member I can lay my hands on. —> I couldn’t have been happier if they’d had live Evangelical snake-handlers.
I can only imagine what he’ll be telling his friends back in Roma.
Anyway, if you want a little dose of surrealism for yourownse’f, hike on down to White Trash Wedding, lay aside your preconceptions of what good taste is actually for, and snort out a lung in spite of yourself.
Hey, — and that surrealism thing might be helped if you take in a good opera, beforehand.