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As the title of The Male Intellect: An Oxymoron? implies, the play is a study in chauvinism and "female ways." Actor/comedian Miles Stroth, in a 90-minute standup routine, does a remarkable job of switching characters in a suave, non-confusing manner.
Slick, glib and assured, Stroth’s routine (written by Robert Dubac) is about how the male id stands in the way of sensitive male-female relationships.
The play mines territory similar to Rob Becker’s Defending the Caveman and Lily Tomlin’s The Search for Intelligent Life in the Universe, both of which also grew out of material and characters developed in stand-up comedy skits. They depend on solo actors displaying dazzling, quick-change characterizations and offer a sense of optimism in the face of life’s baffling mysteries.
This latest offering to tackle gender issues is uninhibited about discussing such taboos as human genitalia, multiple orgasms and a variety of sexual peccadilloes. The skit is more annoying than amusing and the gutter talk at the end runs very close to offensive. There is a generous bashing of the male ego here, which seems to entertain some of the audience more than others.
The Male Intellect is an invitation into the brain of Bobby — a man who has just been dumped by his girlfriend.
Stage right in the show is Bobby’s left brain — masculine, mathematical, linear and piled with dirty laundry, sports gear, some empty bottles and file cabinets containing, under "B," his unconsumed beer.
Stage left is Bobby’s right brain — spatial, emotional, verbal and housing only an elegantly hung roof-to-floor curtain and an empty chalkboard.
The chalkboard does not stay empty for long, and the curtain does not stay silent. While you wait 90 minutes for Bobby’s phone to ring, the end of a deadline set by his girlfriend, Bobby uses both sides of the chalkboard to illustrate a range of creative, ever-changing and often-crude theories about men, women and love.
Bobby’s been reading a plethora of self-help books and is now an expert on how the sexes are different. Men lie, while women "change their minds." Women can remember stuff men did three years ago, while men can’t even remember whether it’s true or not. We men even speak a different language. To a woman, the word "commit" means to elevate a relationship to a higher level. To a man, it means "to incarcerate."
Accordingly, "men love it when women close their eyes while dancing. We think they’re thinking about us, but in reality they just don’t want to look at our pathetic, rhythmless thrashing."
Wearing a black vest and T-shirt, Stroth opens center stage. He introduces himself, provides the phone-call-deadline background for his angst, then refuses to stand still for the rest of the show.
He oscillates between both sides of the stage, shocking himself with bleak, chauvinistic utterings on one side ("If a man loses his sense of humor, he wants to kill himself. If a woman loses hers, she wants to kill you") before bouncing back over to his feminine side to continue a frustratingly cryptic dialogue with the velvet-voiced, softly lit curtain ("Come on Bobby, I want what all women want. It’s simple. All you have to do is figure it out").
Stroth does especially good work switching into several humorously offensive side characters. Each has his own advice on relationships:
The Colonel: A stiff-legged bigot who assures us that "all men are a——s. Any you fellers out there won’t admit you’re an a——, well, that jes makes you a stupid a——."
Ronnie Cabrezzi: A New York tough guy with a big heart and the biceps to match, if not the brain. "Sometimes I don’t talk to Lucy. And she gets mad at me. But when I do talk, she still gets mad. So then I gotta lie. I don’t wanna lie. But I gotta lie." Are you getting the picture?
Old Mr. Linger: A 123-year-old fisherman who professes that laughter is the key to longevity while attempting to talk Bobby down from hanging himself. Mr. Linger also declares that he cannot die until he meets the perfect woman.
And then there is Dubac’s parable of the green mold: "If green mold shows up on the top of the spaghetti sauce, a woman will throw out the whole jar. A man will scoop out the green and eat the rest. If he’s drunk, he’ll just stir it in."
To paraphrase just some things I have read about this show, it did not make me laugh helplessly and didn’t leave me feeling great.
I suppose there’s nothing wrong with a little crudeness or vulgarity — it is so common these days — but stupid things just annoy me. SPR
The Male Intellect: An Oxymoron?
Society Hill Playhouse
507 S. Eighth St.
Through March 16
Tickets: $35-$37.50
215-923-0210
