published on July 26, 2024 in blog

Puppetry of the Penis

The scrotum gets a sizable workout -- there's a sentence you probably never thought you'd live to read, at least in <I>Variety</I> -- in "Puppetry of the Penis," as does some mightily public airing of private parts. Had a few drinks yet?

The scrotum gets a sizable workout — there’s a sentence you probably never thought you’d live to read, at least in Variety — in “Puppetry of the Penis,” as does some mightily public airing of private parts. Had a few drinks yet? You may want to before taking this review any further, since the Australian-spawned transfer from the Edinburgh Fest more or less demands that you take to the bottle, as well. Inebriation may, in fact, be the best state in which to view a entertainment of the sort that New York’s Henson Intl. Festival of Puppet Theater hasn’t yet (at least to my knowledge) programmed. For 55 minutes, Australian performers Simon Morley and David Friend — also the subjects of the aptly named docu “Tackle Happy” from helmer Mick Molloy — wiggle and wave and scrunch up and distend their penises. And though their repertoire stretches (as it were) to the hamburger and the inevitable hot dog, the evening doesn’t exactly work up an appetite.

Squeamish members (sorry) of the audience may feel slightly queasy after watching a tender part of the anatomy get such an unforgiving workout. That response could annul commercial prospects for a show that doesn’t so much give titillation-obsessed theatergoers a case of the jollies as it does the heebie-jeebies. (Anyway, there are enough naked male shower scenes currently on view on London’s more highbrow stages to satisfy the trenchcoat brigade.)

But under the theory that nothing succeeds like a singular skill, there’s no denying that Morley and Friend may be on to something salable, even if ancillary merchandise is unlikely to include a do-it-yourself guide.

The saving grace of “Puppetry” may reside in its freedom from the salacious: Morley and Friend are blokes you could bring home to mother — at least, until bath time. And while the (wonderfully named) Darren Chow does introduce the Australian duo as “One Long Dong” and “He Hung Too” — two characters that must have been cut from “The King and I” — the pair couldn’t be more innocent. If you think you can’t project sweetness while projecting your scrotum in front of 600 strangers (technology enables those in the cheaper seats to join in the cheers), perhaps you ought to remember the Walt Whitman dictum: “I celebrate myself.” Indeed.

These guys do just that, it has to be said, as well as conveying stamina, whether twisting their testicles into a burger or re-enacting the Olympic Torch in a place where the sun doesn’t usually shine. In homage to their native Australia, the guys approximate a didgeridoo and even Ayer’s Rock (don’t ask) while their London environs have given rise (not technically: the show is G-rated in its XXX-ness) to the Millennium Dome. (Why the Duke of Edinburgh involves a picture frame, I don’t know, but hey… .)

Nor need the fairer sex feel left out. Two separate stunts involve the so-called Other Woman as well as the simply named Woman, the second of which was met by the night’s most audible gasp.

Is this theater? Who knows? Many will regard it as an early evening frat party, though the presence of director Tim Fountain (himself the top-rank author of the Bush Theater’s New York-bound play, “Resident Alien”) at least suggests that the producers are taking proceedings seriously. Not at all funny is the padding needed — no, not there — to fill a two-hour West End slot, with ticket prices to match.

After a lengthy wait for the show to start, the audience gets nearly half an hour of comedienne Mandy Knight (“My mother is so proud; I’ve told her I’m in ‘Oliver!’ “), when three minutes of her gynecological patter would do just fine.

The tone lifts — not literally! Now that’s enough! — after a 25-minute intermission when a tanked-up audience at last welcomes the penile pair to the stage, and away we go. If Dame Edna were playing host — there’s a surreal thought — more of us might get dragged to the stage to attempt our own Slow-Emerging Mollusc or Eiffel Tower. (The latter is especially eye-opening.) Instead, Morley and Friend are well aware (and who’s going to argue?) that what they do is utterly unique. That probably makes the show tough going when it comes to casting about for understudies. On the other hand, this is one evening where the stars need not fret about losing their voices.

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