The most wonderful and perhaps even the funniest thing about Bridget Everett's on stage persona in this self-proclaimed "trashy little show" is not that she's porno-mag raunchy. It's that she's happily, hilariously unashamed about it. Stripped down to fishnets and a too-tight thong, she can belt out a tune about a drunken Internet hookup gone wrong with what feels like uncomplicated candor and glee, and there's not a trace of righteous anger nor a subversive desire to shock in it. No matter how graphic she gets, she's smiling and warm...at least on the surface - just a small town big-boned blue collar gal who's telling you the score. Even her potentially humiliating stories are given a cheerful wide-eyed gloss: this is not an example of the gal who comes to the city only to be robbed of her dignity; this is a gal who proudly didn't have any dignity to begin with so it's all good. It is a testament to Everett's freshness that she brings to mind the bawdiness of early Bette Midler, the comic faux-earnestness of vintage Sandra Bernhard, and the unique skills of half a dozen other ballsy comediennes, and yet the result is something original and unique. This unabashedly filthy, fall down funny 80-minute show, which she wrote with Michael Patrick King and Kenny Mellman, features a dozen original songs and there's not a show-slowing bummer in the bunch. At Least It's Pink is a howl from start to finish.
Friday, February 02, 2007
At Least It's Pink
The most wonderful and perhaps even the funniest thing about Bridget Everett's on stage persona in this self-proclaimed "trashy little show" is not that she's porno-mag raunchy. It's that she's happily, hilariously unashamed about it. Stripped down to fishnets and a too-tight thong, she can belt out a tune about a drunken Internet hookup gone wrong with what feels like uncomplicated candor and glee, and there's not a trace of righteous anger nor a subversive desire to shock in it. No matter how graphic she gets, she's smiling and warm...at least on the surface - just a small town big-boned blue collar gal who's telling you the score. Even her potentially humiliating stories are given a cheerful wide-eyed gloss: this is not an example of the gal who comes to the city only to be robbed of her dignity; this is a gal who proudly didn't have any dignity to begin with so it's all good. It is a testament to Everett's freshness that she brings to mind the bawdiness of early Bette Midler, the comic faux-earnestness of vintage Sandra Bernhard, and the unique skills of half a dozen other ballsy comediennes, and yet the result is something original and unique. This unabashedly filthy, fall down funny 80-minute show, which she wrote with Michael Patrick King and Kenny Mellman, features a dozen original songs and there's not a show-slowing bummer in the bunch. At Least It's Pink is a howl from start to finish.
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