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    ‘Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha’ Review: Julia Masli Is a Problem-Solving Clown

    A hit at Edinburgh Fringe last year, Julia Masli’s show arrives at SoHo Playhouse for its New York debut.For a show that has its audience in stitches, “Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha” is not without solemnity. On a recent evening, its sole performer, Julia Masli, called a spectator “the symbol of evil.” Another was “a symbol of the futility of mankind.” No matter: The crowd was doubled over from beginning to end. Was it the Estonia-born Masli’s strongly accented English? Her tone, which ranged from deceptively blank to deceptively sweet?To be fair, these remarks landed in the general context of Masli trying to help people. In her breakthrough show, a hit last year at Edinburgh Fringe and now running at SoHo Playhouse in Manhattan, she goes up to audience members and simply asks, “Problem?” Then she proceeds to offer a solution.Early in the evening, someone just as simply answered, “Sleep.” So Masli took him onstage, gave him an eye mask and had him lie down on a chaise longue, where he stayed for the remainder of the show. Another man revealed dating frustrations: “Gay men are insufferable,” he said. Masli appeared confounded, or at least acted that way, and replied, “I don’t know what to say.” Twice she made us hug our neighbors.Moving up and down a single aisle with a discernible deliberateness, Masli projected a persona that was halfway between curious child and ingenuous alien just landed on Earth — that she is among us but not like us is reinforced by her having a golden mannequin leg for a left arm, with a mic attached at the end. Her otherworldliness is underlined by the work of the sound designer Alessio Festuccia and the sound tech Jonny Woolley, which creates an eerie mood that can turn discordant unexpectedly, and peaks in a fantastic coup de remix that shouldn’t be spoiled.Masli wants to be of assistance, but her facade of naïveté leaves plenty of room for impishness. She is clown, comedian and trickster, revealing people to themselves and others, but also making them do her bidding. That last feat is quite impressive: The theatergoers may think of themselves as game for anything, but a more cynical observer might also marvel at the degree of obedience, and muse, “So that’s how cults are born.”We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    Review: For ‘Jack Tucker,’ Failure Is the Only Option

    Zach Zucker delivers a raucously funny portrait of a catastrophically dim stand-up comic at SoHo Playhouse.In one of his most quotable lyrics, Bob Dylan sang about a woman who knows “there’s no success like failure/ And that failure’s no success at all.” She clearly never saw the comedy of Jack Tucker.With sweaty insecurity, Tucker steps on his punchlines and clanks the setups. His tech malfunctions. When he sketches the familiar hourglass shape in the air to draw attention to a woman’s figure, he ends up looking like a chicken. His crowd work ends in despair. On the rare occasion when he lands a joke, he celebrates by having a co-worker take a photo, but something always destroys the shot.As played by Zach Zucker, in a raucously funny portrait of a catastrophically dim stand-up comic, Tucker fails in bunches, in quantity and quality, flopping so fast you might miss some errors. Just when you think he can’t stumble again, he does. And it’s a triumph.Not since “The Play That Goes Wrong” have I seen mistakes this meticulous. Zucker, who trained with the French guru Philippe Gaulier, doesn’t just pratfall and malaprop. He finds new ways to get laughs from spilled beer, a series of variations on a splash that lead to a drunkenly fun call back.“Jack Tucker: Comedy’s Standup Hour,” written by Zucker and directed with a firm attention to detail by Jonny Woolley, is the latest solo show to emerge out of the burgeoning scene that features comics like Natalie Palamides, Courtney Pauroso, Alexandra Tatarsky and Bill O’Neill. (O’Neill’s acclaimed Edinburgh Fringe show “The Amazing Banana Brothers” is onstage at SoHo Playhouse tonight and Wednesday.) As the host of Stamptown, a bicoastal showcase for many of these artists, Zucker has been at the center of this movement. It’s a younger generation than the new vaudevillians like Bill Irwin and David Shiner, but this group has the same inventiveness, ambition and dedication to breathing new life into old shtick. But their work is more visceral and topical. (If anyone’s moonlighting at Cirque du Soleil, I’d be surprised.)Clowns and stand-ups tend to operate in different circles, so this show could be seen as a shot from one camp to the other. And in the voice of Tucker, Zucker does float countless hack stand-up premises — some swaggering, others oblivious, like “I guess men and women are different after all.” As satire, this show is toothless. It’s far too stylized to mount a stinging critique, and its one-disaster-after-another structure risks becoming repetitious. But the surprises are in the form, not the content.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    Dating Woes? Nina Conti Has the Answer, or at Least Some Jokes

    In “The Dating Show,” the British comedian and ventriloquist initiates close encounters of the potentially romantic kind. Laughs will definitely ensue.Meaningful, long-lasting connections can take a while to form, but when Nina Conti met her future partner-in-crime, she knew they were simpatico right away.“It was one of those moments where I felt very grounded as soon as I saw his face,” Conti, a British performer and writer, said in a video conversation. “It was the chemistry between my personality and something so cozy about him. You can put him in a handbag, no problem.”It might be worth mentioning that the face in question belongs to Monkey, the puppet that has been Conti’s main scene partner for most of her nearly 25 years as a ventriloquist.“You can actually project anything onto that face,” she said. “Wisdom is what I choose to project onto it. When I look at him, I expect him to say something wise that might get me out of a tight pinch. But it’s weird because onstage it’s kind of the opposite: He’s throwing me in the [expletive] all the time, and I’m clambering to apologize and keep up.”Creating and sustaining personal relationships seems to matter to Conti, who inherited the dummy collection of her lover and mentor, the theater maker Ken Campbell, after he died in 2008. (She explored that grief-stricken time in the 2012 documentary “Her Master’s Voice,” which also follows her to a ventriloquist convention in Kentucky.) Now, close encounters of the potentially romantic kind are at the center of “The Dating Show,” which Conti is performing at SoHo Playhouse through March 2.Monkey, however, is not her main collaborator in that piece — the audience is.“I expect him to say something wise that might get me out of a tight pinch,” Conti said of Monkey. “Onstage, it’s kind of the opposite: He’s throwing me in the [expletive] all the time, and I’m clambering to apologize and keep up.”Charlotte Hadden for The New York TimesWe are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    Mentalist Mayhem in ‘Mind Mangler’ and Other New Magic Shows

    There is something for everyone, even the kids, in “Mind Mangler,” “The Magician” and “Mario the Maker Magician.”Are most minds worth the read? I can picture my personal table of contents on most evenings: anxieties, petty grievances, errands to run. It’s not exactly scintillating. Want a few frazzled paragraphs on whether we need milk? Great. Start skimming.But some of us must invite and enjoy this perusal. Because mentalism acts, such as those perfected by Derren Brown, Derek DelGaudio or Scott Silven, remain popular. So popular that Mischief theater company, the creators of blissfully inane comedies like “The Play That Goes Wrong” and “Peter Pan Goes Wrong,” can spoof the form in “Mind Mangler: A Night of Tragic Illusion” at New World Stages in Manhattan.Created by Mischief’s cheerfully unusual suspects, Henry Lewis, Jonathan Sayer and Henry Shields, “Mind Mangler” begins in the way of many mind-reading shows: ominous music, flickering lights, an invitation to write a secret on a piece of paper. On one side of the stage, a locked box dangles. On the other, a safe stands — audience members are invited to guess its four-digit combination. Then with some fanfare and a very large gold medallion necklace, Lewis, the Mangler of the title, arrives.Bestriding the stage with the growl of a lion shaking off last night’s Ambien dose, the Mangler vows that we will be “delighted, astounded and amazed.” Promise or empty threat? As Mischief fans can predict (and the Mangler most likely can’t), the first few tricks, parodies of subliminal suggestion and neurolinguistics programming, don’t go well. The Mangler flounders. He flails. He flops. Other tricks are absolute face plants, especially those relying on an audience stooge, his roommate, Steve (Sayer), who wobbles under the stage lights like an animate Jell-O salad. That Steve wears a shirt emblazoned with the words “Audience Member” doesn’t exactly sell the deception.Mischief specializes in trampling the boundary between offstage and onstage, reality and make believe. In its oeuvre, the private lives of actors, directors and stagehands become public with hilarious, disastrous results. Here, under Hannah Sharkey’s giddy, amused direction, the Mangler is revealed as a grandiose idiot in the midst of a messy divorce, with Steve as his sole, rickety support. As premises go, this one is too flimsy to shoulder the show’s two hours. Still, there’s pleasure in Lewis’s tetchy, improvised crowd work and in Sayer’s gibbering terror — not so much a deer in the headlights as a deer already under the wheels.Yet as the show goes on (a few gentle spoilers follow), something surprising happens: The tricks start to work. While the Mangler remains the butt of nearly every joke, the jokes come off. Rubik’s Cubes cooperate. Metal bends. Unless (as at the matinee I attended) a teenager decides to mess with him, secrets are unveiled. The piece builds to a rousing, grisly finale, and further delights spring from that locked box, which spends the show, as the Mangler says, “like me at the New York Magic Society, suspended until further notice.”Dan White delivers an elegant, polished performance in “The Magician,” at Fotografiska on Park Avenue South in Manhattan.via theory11Mentalism fans may find these final delights familiar, particularly if they have seen Dan White’s “The Magician,” an elegant, polished performance, directed by Jonathan Bayme and Blake Vogt and held in a loftlike space atop Fotografiska on Park Avenue South. Ascend past a delightful exhibition of pet photos, and you will find a room of cafe tables and chairs. The stage is empty. And then, after a blinding flash, White is there.White, in a fussy three-piece suit ornamented with a watch chain, commands these few square feet with dapper authority. He assures his viewers that this is “a magic show unlike any you’ve ever seen.” Which isn’t really true. But if none of White’s tricks are new, he does put a distinct spin on them, a debonair torque. His tools are commonplace, but in his hands — or without his hands ever touching them — they feel novel and distinct. No matter how impossible it might seem to guess a number, a word, a birthday (my god, the birthday!), White accomplishes it all. Sometimes he’ll appear to put a foot or a flourish wrong, but these flubs are deliberate and never diminish White’s urbane effortlessness. Serious-minded and nimble-fingered, he knows how to build dramatic tension and also how to puncture it with a self-deprecating joke. He can relax even the most jittery viewers.White’s audience, lubricated by several rounds of pricey cocktails, lost their minds at each reveal. Some of the tricks are revealed in stages, which meant that they could lose them again and again. The only trick that went awry (at least for me, and I was sober) was one that I was asked to perform myself, using a handful of halved playing cards. Magic, I would argue, isn’t easy for everyone.The children’s magician Mario Marchese is in residency at SoHo Playhouse with the show “Mario the Maker Magician.” He reminds kids that “with a little curiosity and imagination, you can create magic.”Daniel EdenMario Marchese might disagree with me. A superb children’s magician, Marchese is in residency at SoHo Playhouse with “Mario the Maker Magician.” Shaggy-haired, wild-eyed and excitable, he contends that a person can make magic out of anyone and anything. “My job today,” he tells his height-challenged crowd, “is to take the things that you call boring and remind you that with a little curiosity and imagination, you can create magic.”True to his word, he conjures wonder from a tape measure, a pizza box, a handkerchief, soup cans and torn paper. He makes his own robots and also his own inflatables, though at the performance I attended, one was rapidly deflating. As a mother of young children, I have seen many, many kids’ magicians. He is very likely the best, delighting in their participation, never talking down to them.Have you spent much time with elementary schoolers? Unruly and distractible, they are rarely capable of sustained attention. Marchese held them in the palms of his deft hands. The children, onstage and in the seats, were rapt throughout, following along diligently, responding enthusiastically.Marchese seemed to know just what they wanted, just what they needed, just what would thrill them most. Almost as if he could read their minds.Mind Mangler: A Night of Tragic IllusionThrough March 3 at New World Stages, Manhattan; mindmanglernyc.com.The MagicianThrough Jan. 20 at Fotografiska, Manhattan; themagicianonline.com.Mario the Maker MagicianThrough Dec. 30 at SoHo Playhouse, Manhattan; sohoplayhouse.com. More

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    ‘Job’ Review: A Stress Test That Feels Like It’s Life or Death

    In Max Wolf Friedlich’s nimble play, a crisis therapist tries to connect with a tech worker who is broken by her profession.“Job,” a tight, 80-minute play by Max Wolf Friedlich, is filled with so many ideas that it seems to expand beyond the walls of the tiny SoHo Playhouse where it opened this week. But claustrophobia sets in as, throughout one session, a young patient and an older hippie crisis therapist confront the turbulence of life in the belly of the cyber-beast.As the play opens, the therapist, Loyd (Peter Friedman), is trying to soothe the agitated Jane (Sydney Lemmon), who is pointing a gun at his head. Stress has gotten the better of her, culminating in a smartphone-era calamity: A video of her breakdown at work went viral. No longer feeling safe and still clearly unwell, Jane nevertheless has an industrial-grade resolve to return to her job at a Bay Area tech behemoth. This psychological evaluation will determine if that’s possible.Loyd, quietly pleased by his reputation for handling lost-cause cases, begins to tease out her anxieties, but soon finds Jane’s preoccupations with the many kinds of violence committed worldwide a tough web to untangle — and to distance himself from.As Jane, Lemmon captures the frenetic essence of a person overwhelmed, and ultimately paralyzed, by all the live-streamed killings playing repeatedly across a seemingly indifferent internet. Though a victim of her industry’s grind mentality, Jane doesn’t come off as a martyr: Her acid-tongued clapbacks and finger-pointing hardly feel excusable.Lemmon searingly personifies her character’s contradictions on her own, yet the production, nimbly directed by Michael Herwitz, also dips into her overstimulated psyche, as when computer clicks trigger rapid successions of TikTok-like sensory overload, with Jessie Char and Maxwell Neely-Cohen’s sound design blasting cacophonous drilling noises and porn sounds.Though Friedman’s character is the more passive one, he imbues Loyd’s counterarguments with a genuine passion — intensely talking with Jane about our uneasy relationships to social justice, family, personal fulfillment and trauma in the cyber age.As they unveil more about themselves, a late revelation nearly undoes the play by flattening the open-ended ethical questions it had so appealingly been posing. The play has to wrap up somehow, but this abrupt shift lands us in an entirely different genre.Friedlich’s clever updating of the generational-divide format is not undermined by the play’s thematic vastness. And it’s refreshing to see characters who are not afraid of their intellect, or feel the need to condescend by slowing down their high-speed streams of life-or-death consciousness.JobThrough Oct. 15 at SoHo Playhouse, Manhattan; sohoplayhouse.com. Running time: 1 hour 20 minutes. More

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    ‘1 + 1’ Review: She Just Wants to Be His Plaything

    Stale views of gender dynamics power Eric Bogosian’s play about an aspiring actress caught in the clutches of a duplicitous man.The actor and playwright Eric Bogosian blazed a career on Off Broadway stages in the 1980s and ’90s by mucking around in mankind’s basest instincts. In plays like the 1987 Pulitzer Prize finalist “Talk Radio,” about a self-destructive shock jock, and in monologue collections including “Drinking in America,” Bogosian dared audiences to face the darkest recesses of masculinity even as he compelled them to recoil. But his latest play is more likely to induce a cringe.As the title might suggest, Bogosian’s schematic three-hander “1 + 1,” which opened at the SoHo Playhouse on Wednesday, is a kind of thought experiment. First performed in 2008, and now receiving its Off Broadway premiere in a co-production with The Black Box, “1 + 1” asks what happens when a man encounters a woman who embodies his most obvious fantasies and fears. The answer seems to be that desire is a source of weakness that makes the man into a fool. And the woman who is destroyed in the process? Consider her collateral damage.Phil (Daniel Yaiullo) is the type who orders steak alone at lunch in Los Angeles, which is how he meets Brianne (Katie North), an aspiring actress waiting tables, a job she calls “something I have to do while I’m waiting for my life to begin.” He says he’s a photographer; she asks if he does headshots. Soon they’re back at his place, where he offers her a joint, asks whether she’s ticklish and persuades her to pose nude. “You’re such a tough cookie,” he coos, inaccurately, as she proves both impossibly gullible and exceptionally game.They rapidly escalate to producing internet pornography and smoking crack, but Phil’s exploitation of Brianne is all too easy: She comes across as little more than a ventriloquist’s doll responding in kind to the men she attracts, including her manager at the restaurant, Carl (Michael Gardiner), who fawns over her and is standing by when her relationship with Phil inevitably goes south. Fast-forward five years, and Phil is sitting pretty with an office job, expecting a son with his wife, while Brianne’s life is in shambles. This is the part where she pivots from pinup and good-time girl to a family man’s worst nightmare.Despite the play’s overload of clichés, it’s possible to imagine a production of “1 + 1” that takes into account the dramatic shift in public consciousness about gendered power dynamics over the past 15 years, but the director Matt Okin resists applying much of that hindsight. North’s performance chafes in vain against the material’s ick factor, to curious and frustrating ends. Brianne purrs and preens even as she expresses skepticism, and whines and demurs when she might bare real claws.At least one part of the equation seems to hold: Lechery does make monsters and mincemeat of men, even if the ones depicted here face few consequences. But to imagine a woman who wants little more than to be desired and consumed is a stale and hollow provocation.1 + 1Through March 19 at the SoHo Playhouse, Manhattan; sohoplayhouse.com. Running time: 1 hour and 45 minutes. More

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    Review: ‘Tammany Hall’ Votes the Party Line

    An immersive show at the SoHo Playhouse takes theatergoers back to a speakeasy in 1929, when New York was also in a mayoral race.On Tuesday, New York’s citizens weighed in on a mayoral race between a vegan former police captain and a beret-wearing cat enthusiast.Despite those cats — all 16 of them — the fun seems to have gone out of our local electoral politics recently. If you find yourself longing for a return to a time of grift and scandal, you could do worse than “Tammany Hall,” an immersive theatrical event at SoHo Playhouse.After patrons present their vaccine cards and power down their phones, they are led up a staircase and into Election Day, 1929, at the Huron Club, a speakeasy controlled by Tammany Hall, New York City’s infamous political machine. (The Huron Club was a real establishment and it really stood at 15 Vandam Street, SoHo Playhouse’s current address.)In 1929, the mayoral race was between Jimmy Walker, known as Beau James, the Tammany-backed incumbent, and Fiorello La Guardia, a petite Republican reformer. Before the night is through, ticket holders are asked to cast a ballot for one or the other. Or several ballots. That’s the Tammany way.At 90 minutes, that night is brief, maybe too brief, and feels less like an immersive soak in Prohibition New York than a slug of bathtub gin. The evening begins with a quick debate, set in a boxing ring since Walker helped to legalize boxing. Walker (Martin Dockery), a rangy charmer, delivers a swift K.O. to Christopher Romero Wilson’s blustery La Guardia. And no surprise there, as Walker was a man who enraptured even The New York Times editorial board, who praised “his great personal charm, his talent for friendship, his broad sympathies.”But unless you have pickled yourself in the minutiae of Depression-era party politics in advance of the evening, the debate won’t make much sense. I wish this weren’t so, because while Walker benefited from immense corruption, he also created the Department of Sanitation, expanded the subway and improved parks and playgrounds — a complexity that seems worth probing.Created by Darren Lee Cole, SoHo Playhouse’s artistic director, and Alexander Flanagan-Wright, who directed an immersive version of “The Great Gatsby,” the piece seems most interested in delivering short scenes and louche vibes. Walker, a songwriter and theater lover, was a good-time guy who sanctioned Sunday movies and baseball games, as well as vehemently opposing Prohibition. Perhaps honoring his legacy, “Tammany Hall” seems less interested in political platforms than in making sure you’re merrily voting a party line, drink in hand. (And it doesn’t really matter how you do vote. As in recorded history, Walker wins by a landslide.)Marie Anello as Betty Compton, Chloe Kekovic as KiKi, Charly Wenzel as Ritzi and Sami Petrucci as Smarty in “Tammany Hall.”Maria BaranovaYou know those parties where you feel like the real action is just one room away? That was my experience of “Tammany Hall.” As the debate ended, my date and I were hijacked by a showgirl, Sami Petrucci’s Smarty, and taken downstairs to the theater for a preview of “Violet,” a new show starring Walker’s lover and future wife Betty Compton (Marie Anello). As my date was dragooned into a kickline, elsewhere, other groups and individuals went off to join other scenes, which may have been heavier on intrigue. What’s 1920s slang for the fear of missing out? I had that.An immersive show asks you to escape reality, surrendering to a 360-degree fictional world. The fiction of “Tammany Hall,” indifferently acted, doesn’t entirely convince or offer much depth, and the environs (with wallpaper-heavy sets by Dan Daly, period costumes by Grace Jeon and subdued lighting by Emily Clarkson) feel low-budget. Maybe the real Huron Club was low-budget, too? But at just 90 minutes, “Tammany Hall” shoves you back onto the street before you can surrender to the celebration.While patrons are masked and must show proof of vaccination, those masks come down for drinking — it is a speakeasy after all — and the actors don’t socially distance, making it that much harder to leave our current world behind. Do we really want the ’20s to roar? Think of all of those airborne droplets.Tammany HallThrough Jan. 9 at the SoHo Playhouse, Manhattan; sohoplayhouse.com. Running time: 1 hour 30 minutes. More