Even this review is a tradition of sorts. Every year, the Pudding show is reviewed by The Crimson's outgoing Editorial Chair. (This last tradition persists in spite of the fact that the Ed Chair may: a) Not know much about theater; b) Not know much about writing theater reviews; c) Never have seen a Pudding show before; or d) All of the above. Hint: the answer this year is d.)

This year's Pudding show maintains the Pudding's traditions without becoming stale (though, by the time you're finished reading this review, you may not say the same about The Crimson's traditions). Plus, now that we've reviewed those traditions, you'll be able to appreciate all the jokes.

This year's show, A Tsar is Born, was co-authored by Mark Baskin, a Dunster House senior, and Jason Cooper, a junior from Kirkland House. Baskin and Cooper met two years ago, when both were in the cast of Romancing the Throne.

The plot they devised is set in the early 19th century, in the Russian town of Undergrad, a suburb of Moscow. Undergrad's residents--Undergraduates, naturally--are peasants. Beet farmers. Male beet farmers. And therein lies the town's problem. Among its entire population, there is but one woman: Katya Ballzov, a homely, hapless matchmaker.

Why is Undergrad so inhospitable to the fairer sex? Perhaps the trouble lies in the Undergraduates' approach, exemplified by Boris Alltodeath, a leading resident of the town. Mr. Alltodeath invites Ms. Ballzov on a date by asking, "How about coming back to my place and beating my sword into a plowshare?"

Lonely as they are, however, the men seem resigned to their fate, reading copies of Playserf when they get bored. Enter plot twist number one: the bad guy. Sir Noble Meltdown, the evil town magistrate, arrives bearing an order he says is from the Tsar: All unmarried Undergraduates must leave their homes within 24 hours or face the penalty of death.

Lord Meltdown has an evil plan of his own: to take over Undergrad and build a giant, profit-making electrical plant--the Sir Noble Power Plant--in its place.

Shocked out of their complacency, the Undergraduates resolve to find brides. Enter plot twist number two: a French invasion. Sir Meltdown's plans are jeopardized when the 69th special division of Napoleon's Continental Army attacks Undergrad.

Enter plot twist number three: mutiny. With the exception of its commander, General Guy Atine, the 69th special division is composed exclusively of women (hence, its motto: "Muscle, Skill, Cleavage"). Led by Private FiFi Fifofum, the women overthrow General Atine, prompting him to join forces with Sir Meltdown.

The Undergraduates retreat to the local pub, the Serf'n Turf, to regroup. There, Sasha Nidiot (a Cliff Clavin parody played by Nick Gordon '95), informs us that it's nice to be where everybody knows your name. And we learn that Dusty Yevsky, a local cowboy and poet, has a crush on a singing cow, Bess Western ("But soft," Mr. Yevsky exclaims passionately, "what light from yonder bovine breaks." Sadly, Ms. Western has her doubts. "I don't feel right dating someone who's higher up on the food chain," she demurs.)

Eventually, Mr. Alltodeath has an insight: "The way I see it," he says, "we have 23 hours and nine minutes to find wives, and a group of French women has just entered our town."

From this point, it's pretty clear where the plot is headed. Just two major twists remain. First, we learn that the Tsar has been comatose for six months, leaving his wife, the power-hungry feminist Empress Uponyou, in charge of the country. (The Empress is an early version of a two-career woman, running Russia while caring for her daughter, the bratty, psychopathic Princess Ivanna Tention.)

Second, Sir Meltdown is in love with his chief scientist, Dr. Sara Bellum, who is supposed to design his nuclear power plant. But Dr. Bellum annoys her boss by using her time and his money to invent a brain transfer machine which she tries out occasionally on her hunchbacked assistant, Igor Beaver.

Sound complicated? That's just the first act.

The script provides a perfect framework for some winning one-liners. There is, for example, some insightful commentary from Ms. Ballzov. "When you've been sucking on the lemon of life as long as I have," she notes, "sometimes you have to pucker up and kiss it on the tuchus."