Lots of laughs, not much therapy

In a gentler moment, the pudgy Napoleon-size malcontent offers this pithy, self-mocking summary of what every Jewish holiday boils down to: “They tried to kill us. God saved us. Let’s eat.”

In his darker moods, he riffs on his cousin’s stuttering (a sure way to run up a long-distance bill), his sister’s smoking habit (she hooks up on “got-a-match.com”) and his ex-wife’s non-existent libido. “I consider my body a temple,” he quotes his former spouse as saying. “That’s why I only go there twice a year.”

Through all this low-brow material, Solomon acquits himself as a very fine mimic — channeling the voices of more than three dozen family members and acquaintances. The show’s conceit — that the comedian is waiting for a therapist who never shows up — begins with phone calls to his mom and pop (who don’t recognize him) and a loud and clunky exchange with an off-stage receptionist. (All the voices were pre-recorded by Solomon.)

After this technically fuzzy warm-up, the microphones get de-buzzed, and Solomon settles in to his comfort zone of bathroom jokes and family satire. Unapologetically unhip, the comedian’s most recent cultural reference may be Woodstock, where he claims to have found his first wife rolling around in the mud.

Wheezing, coughing, sputtering, snorting and gasping his way through 90 minutes of insult-based comedy, Solomon clearly wants to entertain his audience. He’s endearing, playful, wonderfully expressive and frequently lands the laughs. But don’t expect any last-minute flashes of self-awareness or bittersweet confessions about love and happiness. More therapy? Probably not a bad idea.

Theater review

“My Mother’s Italian, My Father’s Jewish, and I’m in Therapy!”

Grade: B-

8 p.m. Thursday. 8:30 p.m. Saturday. 2 and 6 p.m. Sunday. Through Oct. 25. $20-$27. Center Theatre at the Marcus Jewish Community Center of Atlanta, 5342 Tilly Mill Road, Dunwoody. 678-812-4002, centertheatreatlanta.org