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Kicklines at the Colosseum

THEATER

There's pro-consul Marc Anatomy (Thomas I. Parks '96), who travels to Egypt and falls in love with nymphomaniacal Queen Neferenuff (Michael A. Stone '95). There's Nefferenuff's court: tough Leda Uvdapak (Evan M. Sandman '96), pothead handmaiden Isis Melting (Harris Hartman '95), soothsayer Horace Cope (Mark H. Baskin '95), architect Ramses Pointakross (Mark R. Fish '94).

Oh, and there's the Egyptian eunuch, Nuttinkhumin (Jeremy S. Nye '94). Get it? Which means a neverending stream of Bobbittesque humor--no pun intended. Scheming to overthrow the Queen and take over his country, Nuttinkhummin announces, "I'll do to Egypt what I can't do to Egyptians." Get it?

Because there isn't much plot to speak of, the success of the Pudding depends on the actors' ability to make their one-dimensional characters consistently funny and interesting. Fortunately, through clever stage business and vocal skill, most of them are successful. Fish is hilarious as repetitive Ramses Pointacross.

"My brain is my womb," he announces oh-so-seriously. "It give birth--[insert popping sound]--to pyramids."

Berman, as Plato Pasta, perfect the dippy Italian a la "My Cousin Vinny." Nye finds a way to make his one-joke character seem almost wistful. Hartman, as spacey Isis Melting, sounds just like Janis from the Muppet Show, and convincingly spouts her Woodstock wisdom. "Love," she says, "means never having to say I don't love you."

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Too much caricature, of course, can get a little tiresome. As Caesonia Phaze, Feldman does a good impression of the Delta Delta Delta girl from Saturday Night Live--but the Delta Delta Delta girl is pretty damned grating. and while consistency isn't the Pudding's strong suit, things ought to be out of place for a reason. When Plato talks like Joe Pesci, it works. But why several Roman characters have British accents is a mystery.

Of course, characters aren't everything; the success of the Pudding also depends on the music. The Pudding score follows the Chinese Restaurant Menu system of composition: one from column A. one from column B...the torch song, the love-duet, the Big Production Number At The End Of The First Act. The music, composed by Randall Eng '94, is competent with a few particularly memorable moments, which is about all you can expect when you're genre-hopping so frantically.

The lyrics, by Javerbaum, are consistently funny, and --surprise!--heavy on the puns. Especially clever is the revue of Romanized Broadway songs spoofing everything from West Side story to Grease to "XLII street," and for the gladiator rendition of "Take Me Out to the Ballgame." ("For it's chew, chew, chew on a person..")

A set of strong voices makes the most of the music. Burlinson, as Medusa Pade, Stands, out in a sweet doo-wop number, "On the Inside." He gets great back-up, too, from his crooning fellow Egyptians. One of them, sandman as Leda Uvdapak, shines on his own in the gospel song "Amazon Grace." Stone vamps nicely in the torch song " Ancient History," though the orchestra sometimes drowns him out. The bigger numbers, too, sound as good as they look.

Big, is, after, all the Pudding's raison d'etre.The Pudding is nothing if not a spectacle; if you're going to do drag, you might as well go all out. That means big costumes, big hair, big sets, big backdrops. Which wouldn't be possible without a Big Budget. Fortunately, the Pudding has a lot of rich friends.

The fantastic costumes, for example, aren't exactly culled from the A.R.T. racks. Nuttinkhumin's elongated hat adds the perfect touch to his skimpy eunuch suit; Lucinda Lipps and Isis Melting look positively female. Medusa Pade is exquisite in her "differently dyed" green skin and creepy nails, with a reptilian hairpiece that casts a mean shadow and golden snakes that twine around her chest.

In fact, the costumers in general do a nice job with...well, breasts. Leda Uvdapak wear a pyramid bikini top that is to-die-for. And Claudia Wayop's buxom bosom is a sight to behold.

The inventive set, too, cries out money, money, money. The scenery spans from the Roman court to an Egyptian crypt; the paint is lavish and the settings are clever. The Broadway backdrop advertises "Guys and Gauls," "Camel Lot," and "Lyre on the Roof." (Get it?) a few technical touches add just the right flair: an erupting Mt. Vesuvius and an electric scoreboard in the Colosseum ("Lions 1, Christians 0").

Though technically clean most of the time, the musical suffers unnecessarily at a few points. Music would come in handy during some of the silent, dragging scene changes. The spotlight could stand to slow down a bit; it gets dizzying during an Act I chase scene. And while we're on the subject of running...it's nice to make use of the whole theater, but when sweaty, panting men in drag periodically lumber up and down the aisles, it kind of detracts from the mystique.

The Pudding spectacle wouldn't be complete, of course, without its traditional kickline. Radio City Music Hall, remember? Which causes a bit of a dramatic dilemma: finding a reasonto get every actor out character and into a teeny-weeny kickline costume is admittedly tough.

But as contrived endings go, this one's little too contrived. Without giving away anything monumental, I'll just say it jumps fairly far into the future, and is preceded by a segment that s' out-and-out weird, even by Pudding standards.

Still, you've go to give these guys credit. How many women do you know who can walk in high heels without tottering, never mind dance to complex choreography? And how many men do you know who would don the heels, squeeze into costumes that would put RuPaul to shame, and still come out smiling?

Then again, they knew what they were getting into. It's the Pudding show, after all.

And when in Rome...

Joanna M. Weiss '94 was editorial chair of The Crimson in 1993. Traditionally, the outgoing editorial chair reviews the Pudding Show.

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