I should preface this a little bit. Iampunha doesn’t pronounce the “H” in his name. I am sure the play isn’t the “Schindler’s List” of the theatre (the City Paper is notorious for not liking anything except Schindler’s List and Pulp Fiction) but it seems Iampunha has been working at something. I always knew he was a little miscreant deviant. (***note this is just a jibe on him. He really is a sweety and I thought it was funny that the name of the play and premise would embarass him.)
Poona the Fuckdog and Other Plays for Children Once upon a time, Washington theater was tragically short on audience-participation scenes involving tequila shooters and 6-foot singing penises. No longer: Ian Allen’s Cherry Red Productions is back, serving up another of the gleefully smutty shows that are the company’s trademark, and we are once again left gob-smacked, slack-jawed, wondering where the hell they find this stuff. Jeff Goode’s Poona the Fuckdog and Other Plays for Children wants to be a jaundiced, adults-only parody of children’s theater, but it’s not quite clever enough to succeed as a lampoon; it’s a rousing success, however, as an adolescent exercise in mildly provocative naughtiness and smirky frat-boy humor. Cherry Red proclaims unabashedly that its shows are “funnier when you’re drunk,” so that “Tequila” sing-along, with its accompanying $1 shooter specials at the bar, is probably a great idea, but even with the help of a double bourbon, Poona is nowhere near as snappy as the company’s last Metro Cafe outing–the blissfully outré Romeo and Juliatric, which was able to pile on the jokes without having to worry about whether the audience was following the plot. Maybe–and here’s an unlikely thought–Allen et al. should stick to the classics. (TG) Metro Cafe 1522 14th St. NW. Friday, Saturday & Thursday at 8 p.m. $10-$15 to March 24 (202) 675-3071
Well, when the heck are you going to be in DC? We’re all Dopefest ho’s; we’ve had them for much lamer reasons (like “the Redskins’ and Ravens’ games are on TV back-to-back”) than a visit from you. Keep us informed!
Yes, I do. Y’all (a healthy number of you, anyway) pronounce it “poona”. I pronounce it p’n-ha.
**"(*note this is just a jibe on him. He really is a sweety and I thought it was funny that the name of the play and premise would embarass him.)"
It doesn’t embarass me! Really!
Okay, I know none of you believed that, but really!
Confession time. I too, was once a thespian. But thanks to True Directions . . . wait, wrong flashcard. Anyway, yes I was an ac-tor. And a singer. I haven’t been in a production since high school (winter term of senior year), and I really have no plans to get back into it (it would take the fun out of both).
Arden, that’s not what I haven’t been telling you.
I spent many a lurking and early-doping day mentally calling him “Lampoona”, a sort of bastardization of lampooner. The reason? Somebody capitalized the “i” and it looked like an “l” to me.
(Dunno what this has to do with anything, but, heck, it is MPSIMS)
