Reasons I Hate the Valley: Tokyo Delve's

My time on the other side of the hill is few and far between, and with good reason. That reason? I fucking hate the Valley. Its common feeling, this hatred of the happenings on the other side of the hill, and yet, we all end up over there. In the same way unattractive people don’t understand why they can empty a club, people in the valley don’t seem to understand why we detest being in that area. It really is a shame that it’s classified as “L.A.” If it weren’t, it would be plenty easy enough to avoid it. That way, when you ask where someone is located it’s another city entirely. It might as well be another planet.

There are a multitude reasons to hate the valley, enough in fact, that I could start another blog on it. We’ll start with one.

Tokyo Delve’s.

My reason for trekking to the valley this weekend, was a dinner with a couple friends I hadn’t seen since college. Ryan, it seems, had an “amazing time” at a sushi bar on Lankershim by the name of “Tokyo Delve’s.” Since Pincus lives right down the street (Why, Pincus? Why?) I agreed to attend. “It’s like a frat party in a sushi bar” Ryan warned me. And with that, I nervously drove through Hollywood and Highland traffic to get to the other side. It would be really great if the tourist capitol of Hollywood was NOT directly in front of my closest entrance to the freeway. Nine years later* I made it to Tokyo Delve’s with, at least, the expectation to get smashed with some friends in a riotous atmosphere.

Tokyo Delve’s was exactly like a frat party, and by frat party, I mean my cousin Mollie’s Bat Mitzvah. Decorated in star cut outs, glitter, flashing lights, bright blue paint, and posters of the 90s most famous actors, Tokyo Delve’s appeared more like an adult Chuck E Cheese than a sushi bar.

Somewhere between the yelling waiters, The YMCA and Cha Cha Slide, I found myself gripping the sides of my chair, excepting at any moment the waiters to hoist me in the air to Hava Nigila.

With the exception of Gaga’s Alejandro, DJ Joe, whose CDs they continually promoted, stuck to top 40 hits. From 2002.

We ordered our food, exposing Pincus to sushi for the first time, and our alcohol. Ryan got his sake bombs, and I settled for a strawberry sake mixed drink (which was literally two sips of beverage). No amount of alcohol would have fixed the atmosphere. Or the food. Prepared by Mexico’s most qualified sushi chefs, the sushi was less than admirable for the price. Perhaps we were paying for the atmosphere. Poor Pincus. I swear sushi is better than this mess that we consumed!

The entire night was narrated by the bartender, Alejandro, whose name was always accompanied by the hit song. He was an, I can only assume, out of work actor or singer masquerading as a Bar Mitzvah DJ in a sushi bar. The rest of the wait staff was no better. All of them, we can only assume, were the hottest things in their home town, who moved to LA and found no other option to dance like a maniac at Tokyo Delve’s. They either have to have had more sake bombs than Ryan to come to work, or they cry themselves to sleep every night. I can hardly imagine that this is what any of them came to LA to do.

The icing on these poor waiters cake? The lip-syncing show at the end of our dinner. Donning wigs, we were subject to a Milli Vanilli/ Right Said Fred/ Vanilla Ice montage of poorly danced and lip-synced “performances.”

We were ushered out precisely an hour and half later, so the next batch of poor unsuspecting customers could celebrate turning 13 in the valley.

Gimmick over food quality, found in the valley. Want to eat well, stay on the right side of the hill. Want to feel embarrassed for everyone around you? Try eating dinner in the valley.

Never again. I hate the valley.**

*Times are approximate

**This in no way reflects on Ryan and Pincus. I had fun with you guys!

The Longwinded (Lincoln) Loser (Lawyer)

In under 30 words: An unintelligent, painfully long movie featuring nauseating camera movements and bad Ryan Phillippe acting (or as Adam Sass brilliantly put it, simply Ryan Phillippe acting).

Warning: I don't know how to successfully bash this movie, AND leave out key facts. There will be SPOILERS.

Denny uses Groupon and came across a deal! Only 6 dollars for tickets to Lincoln Lawyer? Boy Howdy! So we ante up our six bucks a pop and roll into an empty evening showing of the latest Matthew McConaughey legal thriller. While its an unusual departure from the smug romantic comedy he's used to, McConaughey is no stranger to the thriller. It would be nice, I assumed, to see him return.

After sitting through-what seemed like- hours of trailers and commercials (not ONE for something I'd see, I might add) the movie finally started. To it's credit, it had some of the coolest opening credits I'd seen in a while. Shots of LA, Matthew, and his Lincoln town car flew in and out in various squares and rectangles, rocking out to a killer soundtrack. If only I could have watched the credits on loop for two hours...

But no, unfortunately for Denny and I, the movie had to start eventually....

The Lincoln Lawyer tells the story of Mick, a criminal defendant who works from the back of his Lincoln town car. With his faithful driver, Earl, he takes to the streets. When a gang of bikers approaches her car, we get to see how bad ass McConaughey can be. Despite looking uncomfortable in a suit, Matthew is at his best when he is smarmy and confident. He gets plenty of opportunities to be charming, and those are his best. He's not terrible with the more emotional stuff, although he has trouble accessing the emotion. Thankfully, there are contacts to make him look like he's crying and a make-up artist to put bags under his eyes.

McConaughey has a new client. Someone that requested him specifically, Louis (Ryan Phillippe). He's a young playboy accused of beating and threatening to rape and kill a prostitute. He says he didn't do it and that she is setting him up. Mick and his investigator (William H. Macy, searching for another paycheck in "Shameless" downtime) set out to find the truth.

Ryan Phillippe, in addition to being a horrible, lip quivering actor, is not as innocent as he proclaims to be. There is a reason he picked Mick as his attorney, you see. Mick defended a client, for a very similar crime and lost. Lo and behold, its because Phillippe's Louis is the one that committed the crime! As Mick begins to put together the pieces, he realizes that due to attorney client privilege and all that, that there is nothing he can do. Louis torments Mick, in what could be the most interesting plot line of the movie. How can Mick defend this guilty man, AND get him convicted to save his previous client from jail time?

And this is the opportunity for the movie to be really intelligent. But it isn't. Lincoln Lawyer never reaches levels of intelligence that a legal thriller of this caliber should have. There are no a ha! moments, aside from Matthew FOLDING A PHOTOGRAPH IN HALF. Yes, ladies and gentleman, THAT is Matthew's shining moment of intelligence. I suppose, if the character was smart, no one would buy Matthew playing him. So they make other characters figure things out for Matthew. Despite the terrible acting, Phillippe was the smartest character. WHY AM I ROOTING FOR RYAN PHILLIPPE IN A MOVIE?!

To ensure Matthew plays to his game, Phillippe goes after the ones Matthew loves. William H. Macy, whose character is made sympathetic because his gay partner died of AIDS (thanks red ribbon glued to a photograph. Way to show-not-tell. Director Brad Furman went to film school [ but more on that later]), is the first to feel Phillippe's threat. And then Mick's ex-wife and mother of his child (an underused Marisa Tomei) who also happens to be a prosecutor. How convenient.

I'll save you how it ends, but thankfully, it does (about 30 minutes too late). It drags on and showcases a lot of Ryan Phillippe attempting to act, and lot of "fancy" camera work. The entire thing was shot like a student film with quick cuts and exaggerated camera movements. If you need to raise tensions by spinning a camera in a circle in the middle of the courtroom, there is something wrong with your courtroom scene. Same applies for the entire movie.

About halfway through the movie, when I started zoning off in anger, I imagined some potential sequels: The Prius Preacher, The Toyota Teacher, The Jaguar Janitor, and so on and so forth. All wildly more entertaining in my head than what was playing out on the screen in front of me...

Do yourself a favor, even if Groupon offers you $1 tickets to this, save your two hours. Rarely do I see a movie that makes me feel like I wasted my money. This was one of those times. And it wasn't even MY money. It was Denny's. And it wasn't even full price. It was $6. It was, however, 2 hours of my life that I will never have back.

Areas I Love: Runyon Canyon

Finally, another installment of "Areas I Love." Here's parts I and II for reference.

While this blog sub-genre is usually reserved for streets or small parts of LA, today I'm using it to declare my love for a certain Runyon Canyon.

Tucked up in the Hollywood Hills at the top of Fuller Street, Runyon Canyon is one of those not-so-secret Hollywood Secrets. Locals know about it, but its never a place a tourist would find, even though it's a hop, skip, jump away from Hollywood and Highland.

While parking can be dicey (just give it up and park a ways away. You're going to hike... you don't need the closest parking spot...), its absolutely worth it.

There's a little stand where you can grab water and a banana. Its an honor system "leave money" situation. Don't make them take it away by grabbing a water and running. Don't be that douche.

And then you're inside. Weekend mornings, grab some friends (see below) and head in.

There's an easy way up (read: sloped) and a more difficult (read: steps) way to the top, but no matter how hard you climb, the view from the top is phenomenal (assuming its not a super smoggy day). The hike takes around an hour and is a great little work out.

Look at this! It amazes me that amidst the city is this beautiful pocket of nature. Its easy to disappear away from the city for a while- that is, until you get to the top and catch a view of it all.

But lets not kid ourselves. There is a reason I love Runyon Canyon above all others: PUPPIES!

See that picture? That is Runyon on a good day. There are puppies EVERYWHERE. Its easy for me to get to the top of the hike because I just run from puppy to puppy. They're off their leashes and SO DAMN CUTE. With their tongues dangling out of their mouths, they get just as tuckered as their human counterparts and pass out on top of the hill.

TANGENT: One time I was hiking and stopped to tie my shoe. Out of nowhere a golden retriever leaps on my back and begins to lick my face. Her owner, mortified, apologized profusely to which I responded: Why would you apologize for that? It just made my day.

And you know what? It did.

Because how do you NOT try the garlic ice cream?

If there is one thing I can say about my group of friends it is this: we eat DAMN well. We've taken to trying new restaurants and this Sunday was no exception. Ladies and gentlemen, The Stinking Rose!

Our reason for going was twofold.

1) We needed to celebrate Denny's promotion. Blog Shout Out: Congrats Denny!

2) We needed to try this restaurant.

The Stinking Rose is a restaurant dedicated to garlic. I love garlic, so naturally this is a match made in heaven. We had no idea if we'd need reservations and so Mikey called and we got their voicemail which sounded like it was narrated by this guy:

I'm already in love with it (and we didn't need reservations). So Denny, Mikey, Amy, Jackie, Caroline, Daniel and I climb around a table and stare at the menu.

Garlic Wine.

40 Glove of Garlic Chicken.

Surf and Turf (All garlic enhanced, of course).

Garlic Encrusted Baby Back Ribs.

Garlic Rolls.

Garlic Ice Cream.

Holy friggin' crap. This is awesome. Our poor waitress, not only was her name Agnes, but she told us about how she cannot get the smell of garlic out of her hair. Now, I love garlic as much as the next guy, but its not exactly a scent you want for yourself. The price you pay to work with delicious food, I suppose.

We pussed out when it came to the garlic wine, so we made sure we hit up the garlic ice cream. Do NOT- I repeat, DO NOT- get it. The consensus was WHAT THE FUCK ARE WE EATING?!

The surf and turf was delicious (and it was amusing watching Denny and Amy trying to get the crab out of the shell).

And the decor is lots of fun (just not as fun as the garlic hat they make the poor host wear). Will I be back? Sure. It's an event place though- not so much a place you could just.... go.

We all went home and brushed our teeth and took showers. It was coming out of my pores, I swear it.

Definitely hit the place up if you have a taste for garlic (and lets be honest, who doesn't?) and a fun group to smell really bad with.

The 8 Types of People You Meet on the Bus

As you may know from previous posts - I've started to take the bus. It really is very simple and the mental break it allows me is well worth the buck fifty each way. Its an hour and 45 minutes a day where I'm not behind the wheel of a car and instead can be reading a script (or so my boss has discovered). I have, however, noticed a very distinct clustering of bus riders... there are 8.

1) Bestseller Reader



The bestseller reader doesn't want to just sit on the bus while it drives. NO! they're the type to seize their new found free time and get some of those books on their nightstand read. The bestseller reader, however, doesn't really have an opinion on literature, nor does she have anything that she needs to read, so she settles for a bestseller. You see, when people see the bestseller, they know its regarded as a good book, and in hopes the best seller reader will appear cultured and intellectual. Mam, please put "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo" down and pick up something that actually interests you... like that People magazine slightly sticking out of your purse.

2) Phone Talker



Of being this person, I am guilty as charged. The phone talker has zero to no consideration for those around him and will talk on the phone while riding the bus. Bus riders sit in close quarters, but this doesn't stop the phone talker from discussing intimate conversations within earshot of 35 of his fellow commuters. This is his time and he'll use it as he pleases, damn it! Buses are loud places, which both bothers the phone talker and works to his advantage. You see, the phone talker hates nothing more than when the bus gets quiet and he realizes everyone is listening to his every word...

3) Angry Commuter


Rosa Parks... the angriest of commuters.

The angry commuter is not happy about having to take the bus and while often gripe and groan when things don't seem to be going her way. The angry commuter often yells out at the bus driver when things are taking too long, as if the bus driver can magically control traffic. She rarely smiles, and often stands up to see what's going on. Commonly heard on but 704 "Hello!? Some people have to get to work here!" The angry commuter is in direct conflict with-

4) The Flirt



The flirt stands directly behind the bus driver (behind the yellow line, of course) and talks to him as he drives. She is always chatty, flirty and overly sexual. She will talk with the driver about any old thing that comes to her mind. Honestly, she is lonely and this is one man who literally cannot go anywhere. On the rare occasion that en engages in conversation, he is liable to get distracted and forget that he is stopped at a light, even as it turns green and then yellow and then red again.

5) The Homeless Babbler



The psychotic babbler is just as much a nuisance as the phone talker. He is of the handful of... putting this politely... fuckin' nuts homeless people... that climb onto the bus, throw their pennies at the bus driver and take a seat or twelve. They are natural conversationalists, and I'm sure whoever it is they are talking to in their heads is enjoying the conversation. They are loud. Potentially even louder than the phone talker and definitely more distracting than the flirt. They usually have nothing to say, but say it anyways. Whenever possible, sitting next to this bus rider should be avoided.

6) The Nap on Wheels



What's that? You've got twenty whole minutes before your stop? Sounds like the perfect time for a cat nap! The nap on wheels is no slave to comfort and will make do with wherever his head will fall. Be it against a window, pole, or the bestseller readers shoulder, the nap on wheels is instantly snoozing. He miraculously wakes up in time to get off his stop and gets up as if nothing happens. The nap on wheels is someone I'm entirely jealous of because I would just sleep all the way to Santa Monica and back. That is, of course, unless I'm stuck next to the psychotic babbler.

7) The Green One



Hey! Another category I fit into. The green one is someone on the bus because it's better for the environment. They are not shy about their love of the Earth, or about proclaiming "how green" they are. Letting everyone know what you're doing, makes you a better person (right?). The green one can be seen carrying their Whole Foods canvas bags and sporting shirts with clever earth friendly messages on them. The green one is often hip, young, independent and financially capable of driving a car. Most green ones, do not remain bus riders, as they get frustrated with its limitations. They instead justify it to themselves that driving their hummer hurts, while bad for the environment, allows them to get to that yoga class on time after all.

8) Sandra Bullock



Avoid getting on the bus with her at all costs. Sandra Bullock will undoubtedly get into some sort of trouble with a terrorist and be forced to drive your bus over a bridge that does not exist. If you are stuck on a bus with this Academy Award winner, try and remain calm and do as Keanu says. Sandra Bullock will complain of gum on her seat and is only taking the bus because she got her license taken away for speeding. Sandra Bullock does not frequent buses anymore, but on the off chance she is on your bus, take a picture for me. I have yet to be in the presence of this rare sighting, Sandra Bullock.

Willy Wonka and the Hollywood Forever Cemetery

"It's the most fun I've had in L.A."

That's what I'd heard. Of course I'm going to go in slightly skeptical and full of the highest hopes. I'd been pumped up to believe that evening movie screenings in the Hollywood Forever Cemetery were not only great, but a quintessential part of the Los Angeles experience.

I can now stand behind everything I'd heard and assure you that it is absolutely, 100%, positively true. If you get one Saturday in LA during the summer, and only one, this better be what's on your list to do.

Screenings in the cemetery are a fantastic way to spend a summer evening. Sure it sounds creepy (and it a little bit is) but as Megan put it as we were gallivanting through the gravestones - "It's kind of cool to be here and be really a live. You know? We're living in the moment with friends. we're not here for death. We're here for life." I might have paraphrased a bit - but that's the gist of what she was drunkenly rambling on about after the movie.

Yes, I said drunkenly. You see, it's not "public" in there so drinking.... TOTALLY ALLOWED.

Several bottle of wine, a shit-ton of snack, two bags of candy and a sushi platter later - we have a successful, drunk picnic in the cemetery for last night's movie: Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. (No not the shitty one - the good one.)

Gates open at 7, so Nora, Kate, Mikey, Megan and I got there at about 5:30 to get in line. Kevin and Alex and Ashley soon joined us. Followed by Janove and Julie and Jordan. What a crowd! Apples to Apples passed the time (Kate and I are kindred Apples to Apples spirits)...and so did the wine. I was hammered before I even got through the gates into the cemetery.

500+ people crowded onto the lawn for one of the greatest cult movies ever. There was yelling. There was singing. There were snarky remarks. There was quotes. There was so much candy.

It was a ton of fun- but admittedly would have been less so had it not been for the amazing weather, great friends, and campy, fun movie.

Goodbye Century City, Hello Santa Monica

The company move is finally upon us - after a good (ish) year in Century City the company is off the a more creative space in Santa Monica. Reasons for the move include, but are not limited to: bad ghosts in the office, the awful corporate atmosphere, new executives and lack of funds. Thats right, Santa Monica will be cheaper than Century City. Naturally, there are pros and cons to both locations. I for one will be glad to get out of this office though - hopefully some big changes will happen in the new building.... However, there are-

Things I'll miss about Century City:

-The proximity to my house. Don't get me wrong, it still takes me 30 minutes to get there during morning rush hour - but hell, it's closer than Santa Monica.

-The Starbucks in the ground level of my building. I don't even need to go anywhere to get my morning coffee! Amazing. They know my order. More amazing (or embarrassing)!

-The way the elevator says "going down" when I return to the lobby. I can't help but laugh... EVERY time.

-The awful fashion sense of people who work in a corporate setting. I'm especially fond of the ones that dress nice, but where tennis shoes.

-The view. I'm on the 21st story and can see out to the ocean. Even in Santa Monica, I'll rarely see the ocean.

-The Century City mall. It's so close! It has awesome food! It's an escape during lunch time, and it has a movie theatre we sometimes go to instead of doing work.

Things I'm looking forward to in Santa Monica:

-Being ocean side. I won't be able to see it, but it'll be there. Maybe somedays, I'll even go down there, just because I'm so close.

- The new building. It's an old abandoned warehouse that we're converting. It's going to be cool (and hopefully) creative. And hopefully I'll finally have a new assistant to help me out!

-The Daily Grill. I've missed it and there is one around the corner from my office. This will end poorly for my wallet, but so well for my stomach.

-TruYogaLA. I'm going to start doing yoga. Mark my words. There is a studio around the corner from the office, and while they don't have early morning classes as I'd hoped- they do have one I can do after work, or at lunch. We'll see how that goes!

-The bus. I'm going to take it. So long to my driving commute, and hello to the bus. Sure it might be sketch (because come on, who rides the bus in LA?) but its going to be an hour where I'm not wanting to kill myself in my car. Its an hour where I can do something else. Its an hour that my car isn't polluting the planet. I'll take the risk.

There is some bad too though, like how I have to contact every single person in contacts to tell them that we've moved. Or have to pack the entire office in boxes. Or how I need to order new stationary, business cards, letterheads, etc. because no one in the office had the foresight to plan ahead. How about how I still don't know the new phone number so I CAN'T do any of those things? Augh! The first few weeks in Santa Monica will be a mess, but then it will hopefully calm down. I'm going to really need that yoga.

My name is Marcus Kaye, Bon Appetit!

I have discovered something new. It's not new, per se, but its an area that never really found myself diving into. New for me- how about that? If the title didn't give it away, my new found obsession is FRENCH FOOD.

Prior to Julie & Julia (see that, Columbia Pictures, the movie DID reach someone) I'll be honest that my knowledge of French food was limited to bread, cheese and escargot. Given that I dislike cheese, I always kind of passed over that particular type of cuisine. What a mistake!

The first place I encountered french cooking was La Poubelle on Franklin in Franklin Village. Parking here is a bitch, so valet. It's worth it. Its dark and moody and the waiters are clad in bow ties. French posters adorn the walls and wine is served by the bottle. I got trout doused in butter and spices and served with baked red potatoes. It was incredible. Rich and creamy and flaky and buttery.

Next was Figaro Cafe on Vermont in Los Feliz. This French cafe feels like it could have been right out of France. Table crammed together outside. People smoking. Dark coffee. My friend Kyle and I went for breakfast and I had some of the best eggs Florentine (a variation of the French eggs Benedict) I'd ever had. There's something about the mornay sauce that it's covered in that I absolutely love. I'd probably go ahead and say that this is my favorite French place in LA thus far, although I'm going to continue expanding my horizons.

This place looks like a gimmick. To French food what Taco Bell is to Mexican, but I assure you it's the real thing. On Santa Monica Boulevard, amidst the bars, is the Paris Crepe Cafe. I've been twice, once for sweet crepes and another time for savory. The Nutella/ banana sweet crepes were delicious and fattening and wonderful. Served with whipped creme AND ice cream, I dare you to say no to these. The savory crepes were good, but I'd recommend La Poubelle for those if that's truly what you're feeling. I shall call this my favorite place for French dessert.

You all know I'm as thin as a rail - maybe a few more trips to French restaurants will cure me of that. Ha!

My next foyer will be in cooking it! Art of French Cooking, anyone? Bon Appetit!

HFF: Days 7-11

It's over. It's hard to believe, really. Final show tally: 5 One-Woman Shows, 1 Musical, 4 Comedy Shows, and 2 Dramas. 12 Different shows. 13 performances. The Hollywood Fringe Festival was one of the best things I've ever done in L.A. Hell, it was one of the best things I've ever done in my entire life. Don't believe me? Let's recap:

-I got published.

-Tons of free shows.

-New friends.

-Did I mention I got published?

-I felt respected. Like my opinion counted.

-My networking ability went through the roof (as did my network!)

I can guarantee that I'll be back next year. I regret only finding Fringe Central (the bar/hangout of freaks like me) at the end. It's a great little hub where anyone talks to anyone and networks (and friendships) are made. It was a lot like summer camp. An 11 day getaway from life, where you make those amazing connections given your short amount of time together. It was a breath of fresh air in my work-filled life. And just like summer camp, I'll miss everyone I met and can't wait to do it again next summer.

This round of shows was vastly superior to the first batch. Standouts were The Birthday Boys and Medea. Both brilliant and moving. I saw The Birthday Boys twice. I would have done the same for Medea, had I had time. Congrats to both on their Fringe award wins!

Reblogged from www.LATheatreReview.com

The Birthday Boys at The Complex Theatres

by Marcus Kaye~

To say that this very well may be the best thing to go up in the Fringe is an understatement. The Birthday Boys is written, directed and performed to perfection.

Playwright Aaron Kozak effortlessly taps into the psyches of three Prisoners Of War in Iraq. Painting a vivid and accurate picture of America’s involvement in Iraq, the first act focuses solely on our three heroes, captured while keeping a storage unit secure. Bound and gagged, they are thrown into a warehouse, their futures left up to the darkness of their imaginations. They bond and somehow manage to find the humor in their situation, placing bets on whom will piss their pants first.

The second act introduces the terrorists and continues through their torture and plea videos to their families. As their bravery shrinks but their bond grows stronger, The Birthday Boys ends in a way you’ve got to see to believe.

The play is brilliantly acted by the three marines, who (given their blindfolds and arm and leg ties) are only allowed their voices and slight torso movements to communicate. And yet, they each draw distinct, believable characters from their limited range of motion. The emotions are real, and the play is dependent on the bond we see them form in the first act. Smartly written and thoroughly performed, nothing about these POWs feels disingenuous.

With raw emotion, distinct and intriguing characters and a look into the war in Iraq that is rarely seen, The Birthday Boys isn’t to be missed.

The Birthday Boys plays June 24, 25 & 26 at 9pm and June 26 & 27 at 3pm

Reblogged from www.LATheatreReview.com

Existential Crises at Art|Works Theatre

by Marcus Kaye~

Billed as comedy that explores the ironic questions of existence, Existential Crises, featuring Second City alums Mike Cherry and Matt Peterson, gets it half right. While the show is indeed a comedy (and a funny one at that) is does very little to look beyond the surface of “existence.”

Whether they’re lying about their past lives, hanging out with an old friend from high school, or living in a world where horses and humans have switched to be master and pet respectively, Cherry and Peterson have the successful comedic ability to draw laughs from their audience. They are, in fact, funniest when they are playing versions of “themselves,” as opposed to the half-baked characters they create.

While some sketches drag on too long, the bits as a whole are nicely written and showed Cherry and Peterson’s comedic ranges. Particularly funny were pantomimes spoofing 90’s action films and old Westerns. Audiences looking for deep meaning within their comedy should look elsewhere, but those simply looking for a few laughs should strongly consider Existential Crises.

Existential Crises plays June 19 & 20 at 9pm at i.O. West, June 25 at 10:30pm and June 26 at 8pm at Art|Works Theatre.

Medea at The Complex Theatres

I saw this one on my own, with no prompt from the LA Theatre Review. In fact, the very reason I went was because, as I was standing outside and waiting for Dancing with Crazies to start two Thursdays ago, I ran struck up a conversation with a boy with feathers in his hair. This boy was Ryan Mullins, of PaperStrangers and he was a part of the cast of Medea. He told me to come to the show and you know what.... I did.

Best decision I could have made. Michael Burke's interpretation of Medea was BREATHTAKING. Gorgeous. Haunting. Creepy. Wonderful. Powerful. Emotional. I was captivated by the precision of the chorus, the emotional depth of Medea (Melissa Fenton), and the two staring children hanging from the rafters.

Technically this show was spectacular and while this review is essentially me using words to tell you how amazing the performances is, nothing I say can do it (and it's feather motif) justice. It's coming to the DC Fringe and I suggest, nay urge, anyone in the area at the time to drop what they're doing and go find out how Medea could kill her children. Kudos to Burke and his PaperStrangers company. They quickly became Fringe friends of mine, and several drinks in - I'm going to miss them. They're a phenomenal, talented group and I can't wait to see what they put on next.

Reblogged from www.LATheatreReview.com

The Meanest Guy That Ever Lived at the Hudson Theatre

by Marcus Kaye~

Lily Spottiswoode’s one-woman show, The Meanest Guy That Ever Lived, focuses on her grandfather’s last moments after being moved home to die. Playing a multitude of characters in her family that “doesn’t have breakfast, but has a morning cigarette,” Spottiswoode embodies each of her family members and each of their journey’s through dealing with the death of Spottiswoode’s grandfather, Jack Palance.

Spottiswoode’s strength is in her ability to vocalize. She is able to change her tone, inflection and sound in a heartbeat, easily creating a different persona for each of her family members. Her grandfather’s lover, Elaine, is particularly entertaining (as is her habit to drink, shed her clothes and run in the street). Spottiswoode has talent, and this show clearly showcases that.

Examining how people deal with death, The Meanest Guy That Ever Lived, could have had more meaningful, touching moments. It felt a little short and dry, leaving me yearning for more. More of Elaine. More of Jack Palance. More of Spottiswoode.

The Meanest Guy That Ever Lived plays June 19 at 8pm and June 26 at 9:30pm at the Hudson Theatre.

That's Funny. You Didn't Sound Black on the Phone at The Complex Theatres

What a title, right? This was another show I wasn't assigned to, but rather went out of sheer interest (and because my PaperStrangers friends were going AND because Jacquetta and I had become Twitter followers of one another [Twitter was a HUGE part of the Hollywood Fringe. Anyone who says it's not actually a networking tool did not witness the #hff tags that went up on half of Hollywood's tweets]).

Jacquetta's show about coming to terms with her level of "blackness" was hilarious (even to those of us who have never been to a gospel church, and have never been called out based on skin color). The fact of the matter is, Jacquetta didn't feel black. Sure she was, but she hung out with white people all her life and while she didn't want to BE white, she just didn't FEEL black.

Her journey is hilarious. Her delivery spot on and her themes, surprisingly, universal.

I got to talking to her at Fringe Central and to our surprise an hour had suddenly passed. She's an amazing, hysterical woman who is based in NYC and you can bet your ass when I go in August, I'll be seeing her stand up show.

Reblogged from www.LATheatreReview.com

Wet Cookies at Theatre Asylum

by Marcus Kaye~

Wet Cookies is the rare type of comedy show in which the laughter starts at the onset and continues, non-stop, for an hour. True, the show is only 45 minutes, but the first fifteen minutes spent out of the theatre will surely find audience members continuing to laugh at the multitude of comical moments in the show.

Whether they’re imaging what would have happened if the Magic School Bus stopped in Nazi Germany, recounting the time they accidentally called their fourth grade teacher “mom,” or holding a still pose for an absurd amount of time, the Wet Cookies sketches never fail to deliver. Notably funny was Mallie McCown’s retelling of the thoughts of a monarch butterfly.

If these sketches sound bizarre on paper, it’s only because they are. But the cast commendably makes each sketch memorable, true, and most of all- funny. The pace is quick and the laughs are big. Cleverly broken up into long and short sketches, Wet Cookies is a wonderfully devised little show.

Direction by Adam Sass and technical direction by Adam Griffith are top notch.

Wet Cookies plays June 19 at 5:30pm, June 20, 22 at 10pm, June 26 at 11:30pm, and June 27 at 7pm at Theatre Asylum and June 19 at 9:00 PM at i.O. West.

Reblogged from www.LATheatreReview.com

Eat, Pray, Laugh at Theatre Asylum

by Marcus Kaye~

Borrowing her title from Elizabeth Gilbert’s book about finding enlightenment in India, comedian Alicia Dattner’s one-woman show tells the story of Dattner’s excursion to India where she went looking for herself.

Eat, Pray Laugh is set on an empty stage, with only a chair. Dattner humorously recounts her search for self in India, focusing on the comedic moments, like learning to use an Indian toilet and the multitude of mustaches on the Indians she encounters. She often recounts how many men were in love with her there that made her feel great, but not fulfilled.

Her quest for fulfillment is told in a straightforward manner. It is not unlike being in a living room somewhere, nodding along at each picture of the Taj Mahal, but secretly wishing for this story to end. With frequent tangents and conversational moments with the audience, Eat, Pray, Laugh hardly felt like a performance.

Dattner is charming, likeable and frequently funny, but the show as a whole never truly takes off. The story is interesting; it’s the story-telling that needs polishing.

Eat, Pray, Laugh plays June 24 at 7pm, 
June 25 at 4pm, June 26 at 5:30pm and June 27 at 8:30 PM at Theatre Asylum.

How fitting that my last (and first) fringe shows were one-woman shows that mentioned their vaginas. Exactly what I expected from such shows, but not what I wanted to hear about!

Until next year!