In the interest of full disclosure, as much experience as I have reviewing theater over the years, that's how much experience I don't have reviewing stand-up comedy. But there's a first time for everything.
Where most one-person shows generally concern the stories of famous celebrities or historical figures (as written and performed by other people), Brad Zimmerman's "My Son the Waiter" is an autobiographical piece, a highly entertaining and fairly candid glimpse into his own life and career — written in his own well-turned words, performed in his own well-timed actions.
Is it funny? For sure. Is it theater? Meh. As Zimmerman himself quips, "It's just one man telling jokes on a relatively bare stage." Indeed, as conceived, with no real production values to speak of, and given the natural, agreeable rapport he shares with the audience, Zimmerman's solo show might seem better suited to an intimate comedy club than a larger theater auditorium like 7 Stages (where it continues through June 18 as part of a national tour).
“My Son the Waiter” is subtitled “A Jewish Tragedy,” although Zimmerman wonders at one point if perhaps “A Jewish Mother’s Tragedy” wouldn’t be more apt. In his slightly stereotypical but genuinely affectionate descriptions of his mother, it’s not surprising to hear him admit that she played a “big role in my struggle” through life — or that she serves as such a humorous source for a lot of his material.
After growing up in North Carolina and Florida, Zimmerman landed in New York in the late 1970s to “passively” pursue an acting career. He spent some 20 years on the “sidelines” (whose only major credit was playing a lawyer in two episodes of “The Sopranos”), before a stand-up comedy class eventually led to gigs as an opening act for such comics as Joan Rivers and George Carlin. In between, like other aspiring actors, his proverbial bread and butter came from waiting tables at restaurants.
A good many of Zimmerman’s gags and one-liners are as old as the Catskills. His best routines involve more contemporary observations, “using contempt constructively” to skewer — with laugh-out-loud results — everything from reality TV and runway fashion shows to health-food stores and fine-dining establishments, from golf as a “game” (not a “sport”) to the difference between the graceful dignity of Gale Sayers in the past and the showboating style of today’s football stars.
Zimmerman’s skills as a stand-up are obvious. Gradually, he opens up to us as a person, too. In a few fleeting moments — therapeutic confessions about his lack of ambition, about “tolerating” life rather than “living” it, or about the regret that his father never lived to see him “blossom” — the show becomes not only a comedy act, and more like, well, theater.
THEATER REVIEW
“My Son the Waiter: A Jewish Tragedy”
Grade: B
Through June 18. 2 and 7 p.m. Thursdays; 8 p.m. Fridays-Saturdays; 2 p.m. Saturdays-Sundays. $45-$65. 7 Stages, 1105 Euclid Ave. (in Little Five Points), Atlanta. 1-855-448-7469, www.mysonthewaiter.com.
Bottom line: An order of laughs, warmly served.
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