The Waitstaff

by Toby Zinman

The Waitstaff, which turns out disappointingly not to be about the restaurant business, has apparently found its audience. The place was jammed for April's First Friday show, and they had to turn people away from March's First Friday -- thus the two nights in May. I wish them well. I also wish I never have to sit through one of their shows again.

There are nine performers in 16 sketches, ranging from the banal to the staggeringly vulgar. One recurring bit was two people in gorilla suits raping some guy. Another bit was "Great Moments in Fart," which involved tableaux vivants vaguely suggesting famous paintings in which the central figure farted. This went on quite a while. Perhaps the most appalling was a skit about a man who was repulsed by having to bathe his aged father, but after being given Holovision glasses that made the father's body look like that of a beautiful woman, he licked him clean. There was one clever idea in the first skit, "Ode to a Grecian Worm," of Greek sketch tragedy, with a chorus in red togas. Could have been funny, but it fizzled out, as though having thought up the idea, they were done. There was another moment, later on, of genuine wit: Jesus says, "The humans are here." God replies, "I hate those people." But this was an isolated event. Mainly, it was just scripted drivel.

But OK, not everything has to be brilliant. Forget content. Forget even acting. At least somebody in the cast should able to sing or dance. OK. Forget singing and dancing. Nobody could even do a recognizable impression (although they tried). Nobody can do accents.

So, after you eliminate both the script and the performance, what have you got? Bad behavior. The kind a 13-year-old boy would find hilarious. Not being a 13-year-old boy, I didn't.

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