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H Street Playhouse
Friday, July 25 @ 11:30 PM
Saturday, July 26 @ 3 PM
Sunday, July 27 @ 7 PM
They say: “Albert is so damn frustrated he can’t even talk about it. But he can launch into hilarious feats of slapstick comedy in his bumbling search for peace of mind. Spirituality and old school clowning collide in this unique and explosive solo show.”
Trey’s take: Not sure what I expected, but I sure didn’t expect what I got: Patrick Bussink as a dorky (if impressively flexible) office drone with singularly passive-aggressive relationship with his briefcase. Also a deep yearning for a few minutes to think — the solution to which yearning he imagines he can buy.
It is, as that “can’t even talk” suggests, almost entirely wordless, but like the similarly giddy 7(x1) Samurai it’s chock-full of incident. Nearly unrecognizable in his high-waisted, greasy-haired nerd disguise, the actor — he was the intensely moving Jesus in The Last Days of Judas Iscariot not long ago — knocks himself around, throws his back out, pretzels himself into a sort of aggrieved yogic pose, and generally makes physical-comedy hay, all in the service of a story (and a clearly etched one, too, words or no) about a little guy who discovers too late that what he wants isn’t what he needs.
See it if: You think funny + existential angst = the perfect night out.
Skip it if: Like my seatmate, you’ve never met an actor who could make the silent-clown thing work for you.