Playwright: Seth Thomas and Paul ThomasAt: Frankie J’s Methadome Theatre, 4437 N. Broadway & Second City, e.t.c., 1616 N. Wells St.Phone: (773) 769-2959/ (312) 337-3392; $10/$5,Runs through: Aug. 6—————————————-
If any theme unites this hour of sketch comedy by Seth Thomas and Paul Thomas, it is the struggle faced by sensitive men trying to be themselves in a brutal society that demands that they be—well, brutes. Like the bro’ f’mda ‘hood who listens to flower music as he does needlepoint, but quickly switches to rap and sweat-clothes when a homey calls. Or the improv team in the Comedy Sports finals who agonize over having been given ‘abortion’ as their topic. Or the white action-film actor who cannot bring himself to say the ‘N-word’ despite the exhortations of his African-American co-star. (‘A Black guy wrote the script!’ ‘I know—but I got kids!’)
It’s not just choice of subject matter that renders the Def Toms so original, nor is it the technical expertise reflected in a hip-hop ‘Who’s On First?’, or a Danny Kaye-style symphony where the French Horn is the only audible instrument, or the song in which a Bible-camp melody finds its harmonies taking an exorcistic turn (courtesy of the guitar-strumming Paul Thomas, who gets us ALL singing along with a quasi-Jimmy Page riff for the finale.). Instead, what makes us anticipate each new scenario is the individual insight that steeps its development in personal recognition and universal truth. The office-drone who chuckles over the quirks of his co-workers, only to himself succumb to a fit of the screaming habdabs when his family members phone, could easily be one of YOUR acquaintances. And the army veteran whose abbreviated hitch in the Persian Gulf changed his life forever, but is all but forgotten by his comrades de guerre, could as easily be one of mine.
The duo’s refusal to rely on media-generated material lends a refreshing innocence to their personae even as their impeccable timing exhibits a confidence free of adolescent braggadocio. Smart and playful, this is an act not yet infected by the superficial sophism that so frequently characterizes a genre too often reduced to TV-wannabilia—and isn’t THAT worth a sighting?