Jesus Christ, King of Comedy Review by Lorlactica

Jesus Christ: King of Comedy

by Lorlactica, KC Stage

I'm driving down Broadway at 2:15 on Sunday looking for some dance show I don't really want to see because I have missed the 2:00 showing of l'Ange avec des Fleurs. Before I can get to the dance theater, I see protesters outside XS Lighting where Jesus Christ: King of Comedy is playing. Conflict in KC? Yeah!!! I roll up on the venue and park a little ways away in case these are PITA-types who might key my car with a cross for my imminent engagement with blasphemy. There's even an old guy to make it look authentic. I pull my press pass and open my "interview" with the protestors by asking what their signs say. "Save the Laughter for the Hereafter", "God Hates Gags", "Every Time You Laugh, God Kills a Kitten" (okay, I should have figured it out by now), "Parking in Rear"...huh? My bad.

I'm kicking myself as I walk in, which could be a legitimate dance form, and sit down with my embarrassment. Then "Our God is an Awesome God" starts playing over the PA. Even though I fully understand that it is in the context of good-natured blasphemy, my bones rebel and try to crush themselves into wet dust as the chorus of fanaticism rises to a fever belch. I'm on the edge of my seat for all the wrong reasons.

I am not accustomed to intimate live theater. Though the actors seemed experienced and knew their lines very well, I sometimes felt like they were auditioning for a Scorsese film from a helicopter pad. George Forbes, who played Jesus, did a very good job keeping a kooky character in focus. I also liked the "Rise to Fame Montage", mostly because the action was fast and funny. The slide show of Lego apostles engaged in various debaucherous acts was a brilliant little rat running through the Uriah heap of double-, triple-, and quadruple-entendres; some funny, some unnecessary.

Best Line: "I'm Jesus Christ. I'm bigger than The Beatles." And much richer in this play. According to this ensemble of writer-actor-directors, he faked his death while he was at the top of his game, after having a little park-bench sit down with Elvis. Funny premise, though not quite enough to sustain the action for a full hour.

To my surprise and delight, "Childhood's End?" from the album Misplaced Childhood by progressive rock gods, Marillion, sneaked through the speakers at the end of the show. My bones, reconstituted, carry me out to my un-keyed car, still a little pissed that good old-fashioned controversy decided to take Sunday off.