'The Jerry Seinfeld's Show' at Place des Arts' Salle Wilfrid-
Pelletier was opened by Larry Miller ('Runaway Bride' - '10
Things I Hate About You'), who delivered a well-received
routine skewering spoiled North American life, including
a solid bit about license plates creatively tweaked to
include Quebec's own 'Je me souviens'.
Let's be clear, Jerry Seinfeld doesn't have to work. By
his own admission, he's old - 57! He's tired, the result
of helping raise his toddlers this late in life. And lest
we forget, he's rich! In fact, it's a good bet that with
his TV series popping up 18 times a day in syndication,
Jerry Seinfeld could buy Bolivia. So why does he still
tour? He is truly obsessed with life's minutiae, and he
needs a forum for his views and rants.
It's likely the audiences attending two stand-up shows
Saturday night were expecting nothing. Not in the sense
of a lack of jokes, or some sort of nihilistic void. But
rather nothing in the form of the satirical observation
of life's minutia that so defined Seinfeld's eponymous,
hugely successful '90s sitcom, frequently called a 'show
about nothing'.
Seinfeld performed, and enthralled two sold-out audiences
on Saturday Night, and it was not nothing, but a lot of
little somethings. Like Pop Tarts and horse races and
BlackBerrys, all woven together into a manic, hilarious
set that avoided rehashing the show's routines, with
observations on everything from email to marriage, to
breakfast cereal. The knock against Seinfeld had always
been that he rose to the top on the tube on the coattails
and neuroses of his sidekicks. That was then, this is
now. It is no longer the case, he has elevated his
neuroses into an art form. He has never been sharper
or funnier.
The New York comedian has seemingly lost little of his
popularity since the last Seinfeld episode aired in 1998,
earning a standing ovation simply by walking out on stage,
actually, running and skidding out. He's also not visibly
aged, looking youthful and healthy at 56. One might imagine
that sweating the small stuff is actually a form of exercise.
And his comedy - though familiar in form and style - drew
nothing but adulation from the crowd.
After the welcoming applause died, Seinfeld launched into
a meta-routine about the myriad annoyances and irritations
that likely befell audience members on their way to the show,
eliciting laughs and the echoed, chorused mantra of 'so true'
from all over the theatre.
Next, a lengthy but well-paced segment about food and drink,
ranging from specials at restaurants. . . . .
'If they're so special, put them on the menu. I'm not interested
in auditioning food.'
He even did a bit on over-cheesed pizza. Apparently still
hungry, he then began a particularly frantic diatribe about
cookies, a highlight coming when he suggested that. . . . .
'They should have names like Chocolate Sons-of-Bitches'.
On stage, Seinfeld is much more animated than suggested
by his show, where he spent much of his screen time leaning
against something and smirking. Live, he seems only a heart
palpitation away from one of Lewis Black's aneurysms, helping
to elevate some of the less groundbreaking material, such
as a segment on marriage, which is to stand-up sets what periods
are to sentences. That energy never lagged during his 75min
performance, particularly during a piece on voice mail or
an almost existential, homespun take on entropy: 'The world
consists of garbage, and pre-garbage.' And it was returned
in kind by a vocal and adoring crowd. Not bad for a set about
nothing.
* Reviewed August 7, 2010
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