“Fool Me Twice, Deja Vu,” Second City’s first mainstage revue since a serious fire engulfed much of the company’s Wells Street home this past September, is both confounding and disappointing.
To begin with, it contains not a single quip, let alone a brief sketch, that makes even the slightest reference to this event. And okay, maybe that was just deemed far too obvious or local a subject. But what is truly incomprehensible here, is the way the revue’s six skilled, high energy writer-performers, under the direction of Ryan Bernier, have largely sidestepped many of the most serious issues now confronting this city, state, nation and world.
‘FOOL ME TWICE, DEJA VU’
Somewhat recommended
When: Open run
Where: The Second City Mainstage, 1616 N. Wells
Tickets: $23-$48
Info: http://www.SecondCity.com
Run time: 2 hours, with one intermission
Aside from a few mostly predictable moments devoted to racial and police violence issues (and you would have to be deaf, dumb and blind to ignore those), there is barely a word about Paris, ISIS, refugees, climate change, the grotesque presidential campaign, the precarious financial situation of Illinois and Chicago, or even the fallout from marijuana legalization. And the list could certainly go on.
So, just what does “Fool Me Twice, Deja Vu?” deal with? Sex (in excess, and excessively vulgar), dysfunctional families, women (liberated and not), the Millennial generation (predictable), and all things “me.”
As the revue’s title subtly suggests, the organizing premise here is what has changed over the past 25 years, particularly in terms of pop culture. The extended opening sequence (the wittiest element in the show) makes it clear we are getting a time-warped retrospective, with characters living in 1990 wondering what things will be like a quarter of a century later.
We are initiated into the essentials: The unliberated female character in “The Little Mermaid” movie; the obsession with Jazzercise; office life before “electronic mail”; a “new” rock band named Nirvana; a TV show called “The Simpsons” that probably won’t last; and, just by the way, the arrival of U.S. troops in the Gulf War, which should end our involvement in the Middle East. You get the picture. We later learn a guy named Kanye was elected president but was overthrown by robots.
Male/female roles are dealt with in predictable ways. In one sketch the show’s three women (Chelsea Devantez, Sarah Shook, and Rashawn Nadine Scott, the sole black member of the cast) wildly juggle their babies in a multi-tasking competition. In another, the show’s three clueless white guys (Paul Jurewicz, Daniel Strauss and Jamison Webb), form a panel titled “Women and People of Color in Popular Culture,” and are questioned by the women, with Scott sardonically describing herself as “representative of all black women.”
The sicko interaction between a mother (Shook), and her son (Jurewicz), during a family outing at a restaurant suggests why the kid has eating issues. In another family dinner scene, a mother (Devantez), realizes her husband and two kids caught her doing a stand-up act at a Schaumburg comedy club where she divulged far too much information about her personal life.
On a more genteel level, a guy confesses to being continually seduced by Christian rock music and movies. And a kid forced to play baseball by his dad confesses he just wants to audition for “Phantom of the Opera.” This is later reworked when Shook plays a fiendish female baseball player whose mom, played by Scott, dreams of auditioning for “The Lion King.” (Musical director and composer Jacob Shuda adds a number of fine touches here.)
Somewhat more relevant are sketches in which a neo-Black Panther (Scott), interacts with a male version (Strauss) of Rachel Dolezal, the white woman who notoriously claimed she was black. The most cutting police violence commentary comes when a kid (Jurewicz) at a birthday party is told to beat a pinata open. He goes ballistic, and we learn his dad is a cop.
Later in the show, years beyond 2015, the characters are now holograms who pine for the better days when thanks to Uber you could “get into a car with a stranger and save $4.”
Yes, “it’s like deja vu all over again.” But where is Yogi Berra when we need him most?
