Nobody's perfect. Something I was so disappointingly reminded of by Neal Medlyn and Bridget Everett's show at Le Poisson Rouge on Thursday. I've seen both performers a dozen or so times, and I really love watching them. Usually. Both crass and outrageous and envelope-obliterating, it seemed like a show of dirty songs performed together would be their ace in the hole. So what the hell happened?
I wrote here a few weeks ago that Bridget is a force of nature that happens to be one of my absolute favorite performers. She's fearless and funny, and in Neal Medlyn she usually has a match in commitment to the outre and offensive. But this show, in spite of some inspired moments, never came together. They seemed to be enjoying themselves enough that it never became painful, but the whole thing just...floundered.
The thinnest of concepts was that Bridget went over to Neal's place for some fuckin'. Hey, it's right there in the title. Neal's roommate is Adam Horowitz of the Beastie Boys, no, really, it was actually Adam Horowitz, who DJ'ed and took part in some of he random skits. From there, it bascially turned into a sketch comedy show about sexual extremity. And while they seemed to have an overall storyline they were working through, I'm not sure if there was an actual script so much as a handful of ideas that they attempted to hit on over the course of an hour.
Rather than being boundary pushing or uncomfortably hysterical, it devolved quickly into shock comedy for its own sake where the risks felt lower than ever and the targets depressingly easy. Sometimes it's just not about how far you push something, but whether you actually get anywhere. So yes, a few days later, I still have the song "Creepy Fuckin'" stuck in my head. But one catchy tune and a few cute set pieces just can't sustain an hour of showtime. The only real upside is that I know they'll be better the next time I see them.
For me, it would have been worth it just for Ad-Rock.
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