700 Sundays
Y
Jan 18, 2006
Wilshire Theatre, Beverly Hills
Through Feb. 18
In "700 Sundays," Billy Crystal performs what might be the funniest one-man-show ever overwritten. The autobiographical piece -- which played Broadway last year and brought Crystal a special Tony -- has everything: laughter, tears, pathos, love, lust, jazz, nostalgia, neuralgia, home movies, odd relatives and a lesbian wedding in a pear tree.
The show takes its title from the one day of the week that young Billy got to spend with his father, who died suddenly when Crystal was 15. In some ways, the piece is a journey back to that event -- an attempt to understand it and how it shaped the rest of Crystal's life. At the same time, the show is an unabashed love letter to his mother as well, both of his parents gone now.
In other ways, "700 Sundays" is simply a chance to watch a comic genius work a room -- a very large room -- about as well as it can be worked. Crystal doesn't tell a story or even a joke as much as he brings to life the entire world that comes with it. He can mimic any sound, mime any gesture and paint a word picture with the precision of a surgeon and the imagination of an artist. This is a very special level of performance that can transport an audience with awe as much as with laughter.
Apparently, Crystal has forgotten nothing. He remembers being born (tough), circumcised (rough), Grandpa Julius (gassy), aunt Sheila (funny), uncle Danny (don't ask) and a couple hundred other incidents and people that stream by at the speed of affectionate memory and perfect comic timing.
Most of all, Crystal remembers his parents. His father had two great loves in his life -- Billy's mother and jazz. His uncle, Milt Gabler, and his father both played a part in helping to promote some of the great black jazz artists of the day. Their Long Island house was filled with these people. Little Billy sat on Billie Holiday's lap at the movies.
A show this entertaining and deeply felt should have a better ending. Crystal handles his relationship with his father well enough, but when he turns to his mother late in the show, he seems to lose his perspective. Instead of building to a simple climax, the material goes on too long and takes on a pushy, overly sentimental feel, as if trying to persuade us to be moved rather than just letting it happen. That's too bad, because it's already been made clear that Mom doesn't need any extra help. We love her, too, Billy. Des McAnuff directs.
700 SUNDAYS
Presented by Janice Crystal, Larry Magid and Face Prods.
Credits:
Writer: Billy Crystal
Director: Des McAnuff
Additional material by: Alan Zweibel
Set designer: David F. Weiner
Lighting designer: David Lee Cuthbert
Sound designer: Steve Canyon Kennedy, John Shivers
Production designer: Michael Clark
Cast: Billy Crystal
Through Feb. 18
In "700 Sundays," Billy Crystal performs what might be the funniest one-man-show ever overwritten. The autobiographical piece -- which played Broadway last year and brought Crystal a special Tony -- has everything: laughter, tears, pathos, love, lust, jazz, nostalgia, neuralgia, home movies, odd relatives and a lesbian wedding in a pear tree.
The show takes its title from the one day of the week that young Billy got to spend with his father, who died suddenly when Crystal was 15. In some ways, the piece is a journey back to that event -- an attempt to understand it and how it shaped the rest of Crystal's life. At the same time, the show is an unabashed love letter to his mother as well, both of his parents gone now.
In other ways, "700 Sundays" is simply a chance to watch a comic genius work a room -- a very large room -- about as well as it can be worked. Crystal doesn't tell a story or even a joke as much as he brings to life the entire world that comes with it. He can mimic any sound, mime any gesture and paint a word picture with the precision of a surgeon and the imagination of an artist. This is a very special level of performance that can transport an audience with awe as much as with laughter.
Apparently, Crystal has forgotten nothing. He remembers being born (tough), circumcised (rough), Grandpa Julius (gassy), aunt Sheila (funny), uncle Danny (don't ask) and a couple hundred other incidents and people that stream by at the speed of affectionate memory and perfect comic timing.
Most of all, Crystal remembers his parents. His father had two great loves in his life -- Billy's mother and jazz. His uncle, Milt Gabler, and his father both played a part in helping to promote some of the great black jazz artists of the day. Their Long Island house was filled with these people. Little Billy sat on Billie Holiday's lap at the movies.
A show this entertaining and deeply felt should have a better ending. Crystal handles his relationship with his father well enough, but when he turns to his mother late in the show, he seems to lose his perspective. Instead of building to a simple climax, the material goes on too long and takes on a pushy, overly sentimental feel, as if trying to persuade us to be moved rather than just letting it happen. That's too bad, because it's already been made clear that Mom doesn't need any extra help. We love her, too, Billy. Des McAnuff directs.
700 SUNDAYS
Presented by Janice Crystal, Larry Magid and Face Prods.
Credits:
Writer: Billy Crystal
Director: Des McAnuff
Additional material by: Alan Zweibel
Set designer: David F. Weiner
Lighting designer: David Lee Cuthbert
Sound designer: Steve Canyon Kennedy, John Shivers
Production designer: Michael Clark
Cast: Billy Crystal
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