There is a clear absence of really biting satire and the whole second act stands on one joke at the end, a joke that is barely worth the tortuous journey to the finale.
The costumes are, in the Pudding tradition, wonderfully creative and good for some of the shows biggest laughs. Willie Everstop wears a Barn Aid t-shirt and Stan Byeme's cowboy getup is a crackup.
The lighting and resplendent scenery are also equal to the Theatricals tradition. But all the best set in the world can't save the production from its own script.
Duvernay's catchy score draws freely from themes of top T.V. shows, but the lyrics drag the tunes down.
The choreography puts the high-heeled actors through their paces and contributes to the show's irreverance.
Zak Klobucher (Carmen Getit) has the best legs in the show and some of the best lines as the opera's tramp. Tucker McCrady is Tenor Eleven, the lovesick singer, whose camp sighs are overdone with precision.
The lyrics are as uneven as the script, sometimes worth a chuckle--more often not. The full-scale production numbers are entertaining spectacles as the various drag queens parade about to the howls of the audience. The soulful duets are less entertaining.
One tune, Aida Lottapasta's "I'm Hungry in More Ways Than One," is downright gross. You could see members of the audience grimacing at each horrible line of the all-too-explicit song.
The patented Pudding kickline at the end should serve as a capper to the evening's hilarity, a time to consider the humor that has come before. Last night, it was just a confirmation that this edition hasn't lived up to the Theatricals standard.
The plot of Bye Bye Verdi is just too ponderous. There's little quick repartee in the show and sappy lyrics that normally propel Puddinggoers to a night of hilarity.
This time around you can't help getting the feeling that you've seen it all too many times before on Saturday Night Live.
BEFORE the show, Man of the Year Baryshnikov looked awkward and uncomfortable as the Pudding producers joked with him before he got his pot.
Misha has been invited to go back to Russia to perform, but he has declined the return engagement. He is reluctant to talk on the subject, so he declined the traditional Man of the Year press conference.
If he felt uncomfortable before the show, think how he must have felt as he watched this production unfold. A trip to Moscow probably didn't seem like such a bad option anymore.
At least poor Misha didn't have to pay to get in.
Bye bye Verdi, goodbye.