Montag and Marbles
From inspired improvisation premise to impeccable scripting to superb team performance, Brian Papandrea and Josh Campos are Montag and Marbles, in every respect. Their brainchild, now occupying the late-night Thursday time slot at Go Comedy!, casts the pair in static roles as the two halves of a ventriloquist act — or, as the show poster succinctly quips, “a dummy and his puppet.” With keen leadership by director Pete Jacokes, this clever creative stricture bears ample fruit in a blazingly funny one-act production that wrings possibility from every angle.
Presented as a retrospective, the show chronicles the few triumphs and many tribulations of a near-forgotten comedy team: Montag the Magnificent (Campos) and Mr. Marbles (Papandrea). The framework takes the form of a satiric Tyme Lyfe infomercial, the kind of hokey low-budget sales pitch for complete DVD collections generally only seen at desperate post-midnight hours through bloodshot, sleep-deprived eyes. Crucially, the device eases pressure on the story while still retaining a clear narrative, a welcome packaging that plays to the strength of vignette. With the back story and characters established, it’s up to the finely polished script to develop and evolve a decades-long partnership, which it does with carefully plotted tie-ins, repetition of key material in the act, and one wacky montage of perfecting mad voice-throwing skills.
From a live performance standpoint, the deceptively simple foundation is a rich source of innovation, further catapulted into greatness by flawless execution. The artificiality of Mr. Marbles is bolstered by careful placement of tables and stands that keep the staging dynamic and set up delightful visual jokes. Jacokes, Jen Hansen, and Ted Hansen curate a pitiful array of costumes and properties that reflect the duo’s career highs and lows, which whiplash from youthful freshness to utter ruination to hesitant resurgence. The show bounces among these scenes with its own deliberate chronology, made clear by extensive video supplementation (credited to Papandrea, Bob Wieck, and Pj Jacokes) populated by an array of familiar Go faces. The cumulative effect is well in keeping with manipulative “hey, remember when?” nostalgia propaganda, with canned sincerity in Chris Petersen’s original score that helps to both date and rose-tint the proceedings. Even though the act doesn’t exist outside the production, viewers may be plied into that combination of fondness and disappointment that the material isn’t as good as it’s remembered; the duo’s deliberate mediocrity and frequent bombing is actually a script strength, showcasing badness done well.
Capable ventriloquism cajoles the viewer into believing the dummy is real, and the most astounding achievement of Montag and Marbles is the tantalizing illusion that this one isn’t. As both the ringleader and the partner possessed of human failings, Campos’s emotional roller coaster peaks at studious belligerence; he’s also wildly, almost carelessly funny, gaining the audience’s favor in moments of early optimism that he rides straight down to rock bottom. Papandrea is uncannily convincing as the wooden sidekick, a physical impresario of limp limbs and chipper affect-less voice and molded facial expressions, all the while matching his ostensible handler’s cues stride for stride. The teamwork is seamless in this pure comic partnership; the performers function so efficiently as a single unit that when Mr. Marbles jumps the scripted track, a palpable mind-of-his-own eeriness arises. Yet however ingenious the clearly mindful reconstruction of a deconstructed form may be, the show’s lowbrow, eager, riotous humor never takes a back seat. This uncomplicated tracing of an imagined career arc packs its breezy 45 minutes with howling depravity, finely balanced story and distraction, and stinging-good timing. With a concept this delicious, Jacokes and company should be applauded for gorging on the material so ravenously that the audience chokes with laughter.
May 17, 2012