'Danger' loosens your bowels with laughs

PATRICK MCGARVEY/YH Sketch comedy just got a little bit more dangerous

Rat spawn. Gargantuanism. Professional wrestling. Krauszer's. Invisible friends. Mimes. This list covers just some of the manic miscellany peppering the stage in The Danger Show!, going up this weekend in Nick Chapel.

In the two-hour show, "four losers and a chick"--Man-ny Caixeiro, BR '00, Ryan Ka-rels, BR '00, Alex Timbers, ES '01, Dave Valdez, DC '01, and Lisa Weiser, CC '02--present their multimedia ensemble-written, -acted, and -directed sketch comedy.

The production values are, shall we say, minimalist. A table and two chairs is as crowded as it gets. Thus the sketches that work the best in the space are the ones that create the most visual tension, the actors putting their bodies to good use with brilliant doses of physical comedy. The first two skits, for example, are packed with remarkably well-choreographed fight scenes, one of which is a drawn-out professional wrestling match between Valdez's skinny "Rock" and Caixeiro's considerably larger "Undertaker." Later, Weiser grins and dances maniacally while Timbers and Karels exchange blows. There is also a ridiculous dance sequence in which Valdez and Timbers, streamers in tow, pirouette poker-faced around each other. These make no sense, but they're incredibly funny.

A number of sketches succeed very well on a much smaller physical scale. In one, Maya Angelou (played by Valdez) speaks at a Dwight Hall fundraiser. Valdez completes his drivel-spouting Angelou with a single, self-assured raised finger. Then Weiser, as some sort of rat-being, scurries in with huge, glassy eyes and proceeds to devour a banana. Karels' and Valdez's scene between a Stanislavsky method-acting teacher and a depressed mime is priceless, as Karels tucks his legs under himself to perch on his chair, and Valdez struggles--white gloves and all--to reveal the depths of his psyche. Other highlights include Caixeiro, in a foam hat and lab coat, using a paper megaphone to educate about a phenomenon called "gargantuanism"; a date between Timbers and Weiser that turns into a nightmare when Timbers's invisible friend (Valdez) gets involved; and an audition in heaven for the next seven deadly sins.

The players don't confine their comedy to the stage, however. The production includes not only slides and a strobe light (check your epilepsy at the door), but also several sketch-length video pieces. These take us first out of the seating area, then around Yale's campus, then to sunnier climes for spring break, and then back to Yale again. At times the Yale-specific jokes threaten to crumble under the burden of their familiarity, but the best sequence, in which Karels and Caixeiro direct a tour of the campus, is absurd enough to be fresh.

Some of the pieces are too long for their own good, or never build enough energy to keep the audience riveted. The first fight scene is saved just in time from becoming tedious. Other sketches are not so lucky. In one of the extended video pieces, Caixeiro butts heads with Krauszer's employees in an effort to retrieve a book he left in the store. This episode attempts to parody Dateline-esque investigative reporting, or perhaps to riff on the kind of humor that "The Daily Show" has beaten until it's dead, but it doesn't ever get off the ground. We are glad when Caixeiro finally gets his book back--mostly because it's been a very long wait.

The sketches with the real potential to make you squirm are those that confront awkwardness in one form or another--in romance, at cocktail parties, on public stages. An early date scene between Timbers and Weiser is almost unbearable, lightened only by Weiser's exasperated facial expressions and Karels' voiceover. Another piece takes place at a soirée where older partygoers quiz Valdez on his experience at Yale, only eventually to reveal neuroses about their own children. This is not to say that these bits--and a few others like them--choke because the actors aren't making the audience feel their pain. We feel it viscerally, in the pits of our stomachs.

What's particularly difficult about making these kinds of situations funny is that it's hard for people to enjoy anything when they feel awkward at the same time. The Danger Show! is not exactly about subtlety, but perhaps a less over-the-top approach would have worked better here. In the end, you can't laugh at Pablo The Stand-up Comic's desperate arm-flappings or Stephen Hawking's suddenly lascivious voice box. You're neither charmed into chuckling pity for the poor people nor amused against your better judgment. You're just embarrassed--not unlike the queasy feeling you get when some star commits a faux pas at the Oscars, for example.

Though some of the sketches run a little long and some make you antsy, that's no reason to avoid The Danger Show! The real strength of this production is in the ensemble cast and their individual moments of comic brilliance.

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