Review: Larry Miller

I'm inside the lobby and milling about a few minutes before the show. I feel great, and I'm walking around with a pep in my step. Sure, I had a good vibe about the evening's festivities, but mostly I was glad to be back at The Paramount. Six weeks or so had been far too long, and tonight was to be my first show of the new year for me. But, finally, here it was: "Cocktails with Larry Miller."


Dare I toss out the pun? Why not. Everyone was in good spirits that evening; ready for an extended cocktail hour with the talented Mr. Miller. The lobby was far from sparse, as many wanted to grab their own tasty beverage before settling into their seats. Tonight promised to be a more adult brand of humor. Not adult in the NSFW (Not Safe For Work) category, but adult as in "more mature." Since Larry Miller has been anointed as "the funniest man I've ever met" (by Jerry Seinfeld, no less), I had high hopes for something more than cheap laughs.

Glancing around, I found there was merchandise to be had (caps, autographed books), and everyone was taking it in like a fine wine. Once I entered the auditorium, I was impressed by the set on stage. It was an elegant decor, yet cozy. Music was playing that made me want to hold a highball glass and snap my fingers like a rat packer. All it needed was a working fireplace and I would easily thought I was in someone's personal lounge rather than a playhouse. The atmosphere put me perfectly at ease, like a swig of Johnny Walker.


After a brief introduction, Larry Miller came out and sat at the piano on stage. As his fingers danced over the ivory keys, he sang about the virtues of... cocktails (naturally). It was a fun introduction to a show described as "Little League, Adultery & Other Bad Ideas."

Miller was quickly established that this show would be a funny but relaxed affair. His style of observational humor and anecdotes bring to mind the style of Jerry Seinfeld and Larry David, yet not remotely as snarky or acerbic. His tone was so conversational and benign, only punctuated with gut-busting punchlines.

For an overriding theme of the night, Larry mentioned that in a relationship, tension equals passion. And based on the stories of married life he shared, I certainly hope he's correct.

There are many battles over the course of a day when you live with someone you love, Miller clarified. Among the first he referred to was over an appliance most consider to be utterly harmless, the dishwasher. Surely he's joking, we all thought. Alas, don't be fooled. It is here where skirmishes can break out over pre-rinsing; where the proper placement of dishes in a dishwasher is tantamount to a nuclear arms treaty. At first I merely chuckled, but only because I also see no room for debate in the matter. Forks must ALWAYS be placed tines up, just as Larry explained. Come one, it's so they won't get caught in the utensil basket, don't you see? No? Am I alone in agreeing with this? Is it a guy thing? Anyone? Bueller?

Proclaiming every story was devoid of embellishment, Miller continued. His tales sustained a chronicle of domestic misery tension. Stories about broken water heaters, uncapped toilets, broken barware, date nights and redecorating bathrooms may have appeared simple to the casual listener that night, but I saw through the tears of laughter and peeked at the truth. These are the minutiae of life that no one ever warns you about. In these details, you can either laugh or cry (and sometimes both). Trust me, I'm starting to see that now.

You know, I've listened to comedians refer to their marital bliss (to use the term lightly) as material for their acts, but historically it's always been an abstract concept of humor to me. However, over the past year or so, my own life experiences have opened my eyes and ears to these tales of relationships and family in a whole new way. Now don't get me wrong. I'm not going to start running a daycare based on the comedy of Louis C.K., but there were many stories in Miller's routine that I surprisingly identified with.


His show continued on the silliness of relationships and anecdotes of the battles of married life and the futile merits of Little League baseball. Little League has ultimately become an enabling influence on our children. Rewarding any effort with the usually cry of "good try" and a giant-sized trophy just for participating. Miller suggested that perhaps we need to start pointing out the underachieving with a rally of "BAD try." Worth a shot?

Occasionally, he'd return to the piano and serenade about the merits and pratfalls of liquor. Most of his lyrics struck me as clever. I mean, how often do you hear "Jell-O shooters" rhyme melodically with "that waitress from Hooters?"

Although jabbing at the nuisances of married life, Miller never gave the impression of tarnishing the act of marriage. Even bits about looking for escape clauses in regards to adultery all had a deeper morality attached. "Marriage is a promise," he said repeatedly. That is also truth. To hear such sentiment was sweet, to be honest. Kind of like a vermouth.

He did save the best for last. Larry concluded with a bit he calls, "The five levels of drinking." It's a hilarious and surprisingly accurate look at the snowballing effects of imbibing alcohol on a given night. Allow me to recount it for you:

LEVEL 1:

"It's 11:00 on a weeknight, you've had a few beers. You get up to leave because you have work the next day and one of your friends buys another round. One of your UNEMPLOYED friends..." You rationalize that as long you get seven hours of sleep, all will be fine.

LEVEL 2:

"It's midnight. You've had a few more beers. You've just spent 20 minutes arguing against artificial turf. You get up to leave again, but at level two, a little devil appears on your shoulder..." You rationalize that as long you get five hours of sleep, all will be fine.

LEVEL 3:

"One in the morning. You've abandoned beer for tequila. You've just spent 20 minutes arguing FOR artificial turf. And now you're thinking, 'Our waitress is the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.' At level three, you love the world. On the way to the bathroom you buy a drink for the stranger at the end of the bar just because you like his face... But at level three, that devil is a little bit bigger and he's buying..." You rationalize that as long you get three hours of sleep (and maybe a blood transfusion), all will be fine.

LEVEL 4:

"Two in the morning, and the devil is bartending. For last call, you ordered a bottle of rum and a Coke. You ARE artificial turf. This time on your way to the bathroom, you punch the stranger at the end of the bar just because you don't like his face. And now you're thinking, 'Our busboy is the best-looking man I've ever seen.' You and your friends decide to leave, and one of you knows an after hours bar..." You rationalize that, at this point, you might as well stay up ALL NIGHT. "Yeah! That'd be good for me. I don't mind going to that board meeting looking like Keith Richards."

LEVEL 5:

"Five in the morning. After unsuccessfully trying to get your money back at the tattoo parlor, you and your friends wind up across the state line in a bar with guys who have been in prison as recently as that morning. It's the kind of place where even the devil is going, 'Uh, I gotta turn in. I gotta be in Hell at nine.' A waitress with fresh stitches comes over, and you think to yourself, 'Someday I'm gonna marry that girl!' You crawl outside for air, and then you hit the worst part of level five ~~ the sun...

Let's be honest, if you're 19 and you stay up all night, it's a victory. Like you've beat the night. But if you're over 30, then that sun is like God's flashlight. We all say the same prayer then, 'I swear, I will never do this again as long as I live!' And some of us have that little addition, '...and this time, I mean it!'"

Larry brought the house down with this, and let me tell you something: that was comedy gold. Miller's Five Stages will now be quoted every chance I get (hopefully around level 2 at the absolute latest). There is something ridiculous yet familiar about each of those stages. In particular, the term "God's flashlight" is the prefect description for the rough coda of many nights in my early 20s (usually due to Russian vodka). Nights like that made me down right vampire-esque. The pretty airbrushed Twilight kind, you ask? Nyet. My nights of liquor and hedonism made me look more like Murneau's Nosferatu. Yeah. Rarely a pleasant sight.

I left Larry Miller's show that evening with a greater appreciation for the folly of youth. Combined with the recognition of relationship battles, I guess my sensitivities were revealed as more mature after all. Whoa. Who'd have thunk it? Miller's show raised some interesting points about the facets of life best viewed through a humorous lens. At the end of the day, life is but a cocktail itself. Just be sure to make the best of your ingredients.

Now, if you excuse me, I have to go do the dishes... the right way. Or maybe I'll just pour a drink and get ready to negotiate what that correct method may be. Either way it may well be a long night. Cheers!

Coming Soon: Cocktails with Larry Miller

An accomplished comedian, actor and writer, Larry Miller nevertheless appears to have made a career out of playing "that guy." You know "that guy." It's one of those actors that you instantly recognize, but are unable (or unwilling) to remember his name.

Over the past two decades, Miller has placed his stamp on dozens of films and television shows, all the while imprinting his face into the collective consciousness of America. Usually remembered from an episode of "Seinfeld" as a doorman who vexes Jerry, he has also had small roles on "Dream On," "Mad About You," "Dilbert," "8 Simple Rules," 3rd Rock from The Sun," "Monk," "Boston Legal" and even "Law & Order."

In addition to TV, Miller has also translated success onto the big screen in numerous small roles as a character actor. He had memorable roles in Pretty Woman and The Princess Diaries, both directed by Garry Marshall. Larry also played more obnoxious characters in Necessary Roughness and The Nutty Professor films with Eddie Murphy. Personally, I've always enjoyed his appearances in Christopher Guest's mockumentary comedies Waiting for Guffman, Best in Show, A Mighty Wind, and For Your Consideration. Gifted with his unique brand of wit, Miller is perfectly at ease in those showcases of dry humor.


Soon, Miller will bring his one-man show to The Paramount Theatre. Entitled "Cocktails with Larry Miller," he promises to divulge his comic perspective about Marriage, Children & Drinking...and how each one leads to the other two. An interesting mix, but it does sound like a recipe for a good time.

It promises to be a very funny evening for his "cocktails." Larry will provide the ingredients and the shaker; all we need to bring is a appetite for humor and let him do the rest. He's certain to mix his signature brand of wit and humor, and then serve it dry.

Here's a taste of what the cocktail hour will bring. Consider this a little sip.



Thirsty for more? Then come and see who Jerry Seinfeld says "is, was, and always will be the funniest guy I know."

"Cocktails with Larry Miller" will be served at The Paramount Theatre on Thursday, January 27th, at 8:00 p.m.

Review: Junie B. Jones

December 5, 2010
And now, we take a break from the grown-up stuff to have an day of family fun. On this afternoon, an event in The Paramount Theatre's Play Time Series was to unfold. Famed children's literature character Junie P. Jones was to come alive on stage in a holiday tale called "Jingle Bells, Batman Smells!" It was to be the first collaboration between this theatre and the UT Department of Theatre & Dance. The heck with Batman and Robin; UT and The Paramount were sounding like the new dynamic duo!

But first...

Next door at The State Theatre, there were activities galore for Play Time subscribers and donors. An event provided by Theatre Action Project before the Junie show, it was a real kid haven. We're talking a craft mecca in there: candy cane reindeer, Christmas tree cut-outs, ornaments, popsicle stick sculptures, and of course... glitter! The place was filled with happy kiddos and helpful adults. Seeing all of the little imaginations at work was thrilling. For them, the possibilities were endless.


For the half hour or so that I was there, nothing was more fun than to see all of the little ones working as diligently as Santa's elves on their various projects. I hope you brought the big purse, Mommy, because it was getting stuffed with handfuls of crafts. Granted, because the childrens' hands were smaller, they were tiny handfuls. But soon, it was time to put away the glue and pipe cleaners. On to The Paramount next door. It's nearly showtime!

As I walked in, one thing was certain: I've rarely felt taller in my life. The young 'uns were abundant, but best of all everything was catered to them. The snack bars eschewed the regular menu of tasty adult beverages for more kid-friendly fare. For me, that meant I actually felt guilt drinking my traditional Dr Pepper. Discretely carrying my soda into the auditorium, I noticed ushers were giving programs to every youngster that walked by. "Wait a tic! Where's mine?" I thought to myself. Once I finally held one in my hands, I saw why the youngsters got the royal treatment. You see, the programs were also activity books. Inside were elementary lessons about set design, costumes, and even lighting. Each was accompanied by cute little activities and games. Neat-O, right!? Alas, I felt like an adult at a restaurant browsing the children's menu (you know, the kind that come with crayons for the word searches), and promptly gave my program to an eager grade-schooler.

I took my seat (again feeling tall with all of the smaller bodies occupying seats around me), and soon the lights went down.


And it was a fantastic show. The vibe was fun and festive, and the bright lights, vibrant colors, and animated performances yielded all the appropriate ooohs and ahhhs. The audience was eagerly playing to the beat of the story, ready for every silly gag and pratfall that appeared on stage. Junie and her gang were playful, funny, and identifiable (regardless of your age).

One thing I noticed, however, was the exemplary behavior I witnessed during the show. I never heard one crying toddler, one spilled snack, one fidgety child or any unnecessary talking. Every kid within range was transfixed at the spectacle before them. Of course, during the intermission and after the show the whole place was a chatter, but during the act all were respectful and mesmerized. Any old timer who laments the days of well-behaved kids should've been there that afternoon. It warmed he heart to witness children having fun without having a wiimote strapped to their hand or planted in front of a television.

The magic was a testament to a successful collaboration. The performers did an admirable job recapturing the wonder of youth, and the theatre transformed its historic venue into a playground for the imagination. All in all, it was a smashing success in bringing smiles to hundreds of little faces.

Yep, the tiny ones ate it up, but so did (at least) one adult. Perhaps that afternoon I was just an overgrown kid myself, but giving in to the festivities, I had a great time too. And judging by the smiles around me on older faces, I'm pretty sure I wasn't the only grown up who had a blast. It's not everyday you can indulge the inner child and just let go, but the day's merriment warmed everyone's heart long after the curtain fell.

Review: Ira Glass

December 4, 2010

Oh yeah. This was an event that had been one of the most eagerly anticipated of the season. A show that sold out rather quickly, and had a promise of being something special. Truth be told, although I was familiar with his radio work, I had no idea how an Ira Glass show would be. Would it unfold like an episode of "This American Life," his show on NPR (National Public Radio)? The possibilities swirled in my head, but all that stopped once I entered the doors of The Paramount.


Looking around the lobby with a sense of wonder, I found a pleasant surprise.

The place was all decked out for the holidays, and it was beautiful to behold all of the decor. Wreaths, nutcrackers, jolly elves, and slightly creepy old ladies under a giant Christmas tree made the lobby a festive place. I was surrounded by the holiday cheer. As Billy Mack from Love Actually would sing,

I feel it in my fingers
I feel it in my toes
Christmas is all around me
And so the feeling grows


Warm feelings abound and everyone was all smiles and pleasantries. Before taking their seats, it seemed all were taking in the decorations. With a few minutes to spare, seats were filled and eyes were trained towards the stage. After a brief introduction by director Ken Stein, the house lights went out, leaving us completely in the darkness.

The moment of darkness lingered, and then a vocal recording filled the auditorium. It was obviously a young girl, and one could hear the genuine fear and trepidation in her voice. She was talking about living in a gang culture, and recounting an incident when a gun was first pulled on her. The young woman gave a depiction of this violence as being typical for her surroundings, but she had never encountered it personally before. Clearly, it shook her to describe this event. The emotion in her voice hung in the air after she finished speaking, but then another voice was broadcast. This one was live. It was gentle, reassuring and casual. It belonged to Ira Glass.

The stage lights slowly came up, and Glass was revealed to be sitting at a station onstage with audio equipment. It resembled a mini radio booth, and was ever so appropriate for him.

As Ira came into full view, he explained that the girl was a gang member that was interviewed for a story. He added that her appearance had a tough exterior and for most people would have been considered off-putting. But when just her voice was presented, you don't have any other images to paint her with preconceived notions. With only a voice, you don't just listen... you hear her.

Thus is the power of one's voice on its own, Glass poignantly described. When it is just you and someone's voice, it is one of the most intimate acts of communication. He had a point. Think of any late night phone call from a loved one. Your full attention and heart are focused on that voice on the other end, under the cover of night. That is genuine intimacy.

Ira appended by demonstrating that stories are all around us. I knew in short order this was going to be a very special evening. One about sharing and the power of human interaction. And what an amazing night it was. The experience was so rich and full, that my meager summary here can't possibly do it justice.


Storytelling was the theme of the show. Ira Glass shared tales about people he's encountered while making "This American Life," and also behind-the-scenes drama on its creation. He played clips from people who shared their experiences, augmented by transitional music (just like his show). And what interesting anecdotes they were! We heard tales about the bizarre behaviors of drunken undergrads at Penn State, the eccentricities and snobbery of Palm Beach's super wealthy, and many more. Each underlined the power of narrative communication.

The most fascinating twists and turns came from a story of an elderly veteran who served his country and was outraged to find his wife's burial (also a veteran) was not going to be taken care of 100%, as promised by the governement. Incensed by a 16 dollar fee, he dumped his wife's ashes in the parking lot of the Veteran's Affairs office. When Glass caught wind of the story, he was intrigued at the possibilities. Not only was it outrageous in its own right, but it held deeper connotations. It revealed a attitude of a prior generation, when people had faith in their government and the honor of service. Quite the stark contrast to the cynicism of today's populace, he thought. The story also was an indictment on bureaucracy and red tape. It was going to be a perfect lead story for his program. There was only one tiny problem.

Research revealed the entire story was a fabrication. The story collapsed as the holes were uncovered, and it was never allowed to air.

Such are the tough breaks when one is bound by journalistic integrity. Make no mistake, Ira Glass is a journalist, but not in the sterile and conventional sense. He addressed this throughout the show also, along with thoughts on the state of media today. I tended to agree that news too often takes an "authoritative" view of itself, possibly derived from an era (early 20th century) where radio had to boom its broadcasts. It's a commanding tone that, when transferred to the emerging medium of television in the 50s and 60s, hasn't served itself well.

Perhaps this is why so many gravitate to "less objective" media outlets. Opinions are dominating broadcast journalism now because of how antiseptic the traditional methods have become. Glass described journalists as "robots," and that's not far from the truth. Who among us can identify with a robot? People therefore tend to gravitate to the biased outlets. Not because they're fringe lunatics who wish to lean left or right, but because they identify more with the passion on full display when opinions are involved. People want connection to the stories they hear.

Near the conclusion, Ira opened the floor to questions, and his answers also were little nuggets of gold. At one point, he played a very unique promo for public radio by Alec Baldwin. He takes a humorous reverse psychology approach, pleading with listeners NOT to give. There was a whole library of these gems played for our amusement, and they can be found here for your own enjoyment.

Not one to shy away from any answer, Glass weighed in on the theatrics of Glenn Beck and also on the Juan Williams controversy ("it was poorly handled, but it was in poor taste for Williams to bad mouth NPR so quickly"). Also unconstrained by pride, he played clips of what he called his early awful "radio voice." I'd hate to disparage the man, but "awful" is the right word. It was forced and too self-important to take seriously. Give me the earnest and slightly nasally Ira Glass voice any day.

All in all, I enjoyed the presentation a great deal. The casual atmosphere gave the whole experience a pleasant and easy-going tone. Ira's sincerity and candor made the show feel like a conversation with an old friend. Ira might as well have been across a table at a coffee shop rather than on stage. Granted, he wouldn't have been able to conduct such a presentation without his equipment. The entire production reinforced the importance of what Glass referred to as an integral part of storytelling, the element of narrative suspense.

I don't think any of us wanted it to end. We could have spent many more hours with Ira Glass. Like that personal phone call in the dead of night, we didn't want to disconnect. All of us hung onto every word, drinking in the emotion and knowledge as if at a desert oasis. Afterwards, the audience was still buzzing, obviously chewing over the topics presented and exchanging ideas with their companions.

I'm not sure if it was just the show or the added warmth of the holiday season, but I emerged that night with a great sense of rejuvenation and a renewed appreciation for storytelling's power. It can cut through rational and irrational thought like a knife through butter; connecting us to something in a core we all share. Stories are everywhere, and the diversities of these unifying narratives remind us how rich, big and wonderful our world really is.

I couldn't wait to get home and relay some of the things I heard that evening to my loved ones. Telling stories is contagious like that. Thank you, Ira, for giving me such great ones to share tonight. And also for reminding me that the intimacy and sharing of these tales is a lot like love, actually.

I feel it in my fingers
I feel it in my toes
Stories are all around me
And so the feeling grows...