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Ask Bambi Project's current exhibitors what they hold dear and you'll get some interesting answers. Kim Alsbrooks whipped up oil portraits of colonial Philadelphia's renowned and affluent, framing their smug mugs with crushed cans and flattened fast food paraphernalia. Amy Stevens snapped shots of cakes baked so garishly as to be inedible (pictured), sprinkling on a dash of erotic overtones for good measure. Miha seemingly offers the most traditional response with her East Asian painting style, slyly hiding her deceits in the smooth strokes and titles of her work. And of course, Bambi proprietor Candace Karch cherishes them all. "I'd like to think we're known for this kind of tongue-in-cheek action."

—Jakob Dorof

Through Jan. 25, Bambi Project, 1817 Frankford Ave., 215-423-2668, inliquid.com.

"This country is rotten to the core," snarls Talk Radio's Barry Champlain. In New City Stage's relentlessly tense production, Paul Felder looks too young to play Eric Bogosian's iconic shock jock, but his Jack-and-Marlboro growl reveals a lifetime of bitter cynicism and self-hatred. William Roudebush directs last year's Broadway revision, still set in 1987 (before talk radio devolved into fart jokes and liberal-bashing) with a great ensemble of crazy Cleveland callers. Most surprising is how relevant Talk Radio remains: Are we as fucked up now as in 1987? We need tell-it-like-it-is crusaders like Champlain more than ever.

—Mark Cofta

Through Jan. 11, New City Stage Co. at the Adrienne, 2030 Sansom St., 215-563-7500, newcitystage.org.

Life moves in all sorts of circles — cultural trends, political eras, groups of friends, yo-yos. Whether through cheeky wit or dynamic visuals, the dozen artists in Fleisher/Ollman Gallery's annual invitational also share a spherical bond. Charles Hobbs' sculpture Untitled is a stunning wooden wreath of intertwining snakes, while the Dufala brothers' doctored digital photo, Long Chuck, stretches and folds a well-worn white low-top. Pound for pound, the most circles can be found in Nick Paparone's The Long Now, where a motorized breakfast plate (replete with pancakes and eggs) spins on a canvas dotted with galaxies and stars.

—John Vettese

Through Jan. 17, Fleisher/Ollman Gallery, 1616 Walnut St., Suite 100, 215-545-7562, fleisherollman.com.

There'll forever be money-making comic perennials (Nunsense, anyone?) that ride the border between "theatrical event" and "huh." They're staged in playhouses, sure. But you're uncertain as to what their desired effect is, other than slamming audiences with broad sentimental humor. It's clubbing them over the head with it that Rob Becker's Defending the Caveman — the longest-running solo play in Broadway history — is concerned with. It's a boorish boy vs. sensitive woman nudge-wink fest of rude comedy that supposedly gets used by marriage counselors. Caveman may be ridiculous, but I bet David Mamet never solved any wedded woes.

—A.D. Amorosi

Fri., Dec. 26-Sun., Jan. 4, $47, Kimmel Center, 300 S. Broad St., 215-893-1999, kimmelcenter.org.

Not all ex-patriots spend their time nibbling baguettes in Parisian cafes, smoking the day away and drawing artistic inspiration from the romance of living abroad. For the artists featured in the Slought Foundation's latest exhibition, a stronger influence is placed on the political and social turmoil orbiting everyday modern life in urban Turkey. This extraordinary display, devoid of cliché (no blatant East-meets-West statements here), characterizes the viewpoint of artists — Turkish and not — who, as the title suggests, live and show their work in and out of Istanbul.

—Rachel Dukeman

Through Jan. 9, Slought Foundation, 4017 Walnut St., 215-701-4627, slought.org.