
Thursday nights usually mean one thing for me: 30 Rock, Community, Real Housewives, and Jersey Shore — give or take a few shows. I suppose that’s four things, but it all falls under the glorious umbrella of TELEVISION. It certainly takes a lot for me to waiver from this joyous activity, but occasionally something does come along that even TV itself can’t top. Case in point: TV on stage! That’s why when my friend Michelle invited me along to see The Pee-Wee Herman Show last night, I knew I had to put Snooki, Vicki, and Liz Lemon on pause.
For the uninitiated, The Pee-Wee Herman Show is sort of a reprisal of Paul Reubens’ beloved ’80s kids show, Pee-Wee’s Playhouse (which in turn was something of an adaptation of his early ’80s stage show, also called The Pee-Wee Herman Show). It’s been garnering a significant amount of buzz here in LA for the past week or so, and even though we had to navigate through the byzantine corridors and garages of downtown’s LA Live complex (an experience that Michelle and I equated to some horrid Amazing Race impasse), we were still most happy to arrive at Club Nokia, the swanky venue for this off-off-off-off Broadway performance. The icing on the cake: free tix located second row center. Enormous thanks to the staff for hooking us up with that.
As we took our seats in the audience, it was clear that this would not be the typically stuffy theatRE experience. I based this mainly on the fact that a good number of people in the audience seemed to actually be dressed up as Pee-Wee Herman, and those in civilian garb tended to have some ode to the man or his menagerie of characters imprinted on their clothing in some fashion. Heck, the woman next to me had a full-on Pee-Wee doll in her hands.
If it was nostalgia these people wanted, they certainly received it on a high order. The moment Pee-Wee first waltzed out on stage with nothing but a dark curtain behind him, the crowd went nuts. Reubens, now nearly sixty years old, seems shockingly ageless when he inhabits his famous character. Sure, there are some wrinkles and lines here and there, but hidden under layers of thick white makeup, and wrapped up in the man-child mania of Pee-Wee, he truly seems no older than he was twenty-five years ago.
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