Triassic Parq

I  thoroughly enjoyed Triassic Parq: The Musical in an earlier incarnation, when it was known as Jurassic Parq: The Broadway Musical. This time around I enjoyed it less. Part of the problem was the combination of bad enunciation and bad sound. Another problem was that many of the jokes were not strong enough to survive a second viewing. Still another problem was that there were four or five people who laughed, loudly, raucously, at everything. Everything. Every damned thing. It was like watching the show with a manic, deeply annoying laugh track. (It's strange that too much laughter can hurt a comedy, but it can.)

Alex Wyse, Claire Neumann, Wade McCollum,
Shelley Thomas, Lindsay Nicole Chambers
(Photo: Carol Rosegg)

On the other hand, these strengths remain: a fun concept (in this parq, the dinosaurs are all female to keep them from reproducing; however . . .); a great deal of energy; very entertaining choreography. The preshow is fun, with the sense of waiting for a Disney ride, and the program is clever. Wade McCollum, who is wonderful in Submissions Only, is wonderful here as well.

But then there is this large weakness: writers Marshall Pailet, Bryce Norbitz, and Stephen Wargo constantly rely on the word fuck and its kin for cheap laughs. Perhaps it is because fuck can be heard even when the sound is unclear, but it seemed that every second word was fuck. In reality, maybe it was every 15th word, but that is still too fucking much, you know? Even the "turn off your cell phone" announcement managed to get the word in.

Am I a prude about dirty words? Fuck, no. There are times that my every-15th-word is a curse. But doing a satire of Jurassic Park allows potentially endless creativity, and relying on fuck is a way to end creativity. Or should I say fucking creativity?

I would still recommend this show to people who like fuck-based humor. And maybe the sound and enunciation will be improved, or maybe you will have better seats than I had. Many people in the audience seemed to enjoy the show (although the person I went with loathed every second), and I did enjoy it myself the first time I saw it.

(press ticket; 8th row or so on the aisle)