Except for One Guy, the Cast Is Kind of Wooden
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By CHARLES ISHERWOOD
Published: September 29, 2006
You couldn’t ask for a sweeter straight man than Jay Johnson, the one and only star of the new Broadway show “Jay Johnson: The Two and Only!” By straight man I mean not a heterosexual, although Mr. Johnson happens to be married, but the long-suffering, punch-line-less half of a comedy act, the guy who sets up the gags and smiles affably as his partner knocks ’em out of the park.
Strictly speaking Mr. Johnson is the sole star of this genial if flimsy 90-minute entertainment. His name is the only one on the marquee, and presumably he doesn’t have to share a dressing room with any of his nonhuman, and sometimes a little inhuman, co-stars. But he cedes the spotlight for long stretches to this menagerie of ornery comic characters, all of whom are animated by his vigorously expressive right hand, and all of whom share the same set of vocal cords.
Which happen to be located in Mr. Johnson’s throat. You see, the apple-cheeked Mr. Johnson is actually the most exotic if least cranky creature onstage, even though his fellow performers include a vulture who sings “My Way,” a foul-mouthed wooden tyke, a talking tennis ball and a monkey purveying some of the corniest shtick this side of a Friar’s roast.
He’s a real live ventriloquist, folks. Remember them?
Possibly not, if you’re under the age of 40. Or maybe 50. This species of entertainer has mostly vanished from the show business landscape, where the wondrous capabilities of plain-old human beings are increasingly being enhanced, if not replaced, by the prodigious gadgetry of the digital age. The halcyon days of the voice-throwers were long past even by the late 1970’s, when Mr. Johnson gained minor fame as a star of the television comedy “Soap.”
But Mr. Johnson, still boyish at 57, has managed to forge a career of about four decades plying this dying showbiz trade. His aim in this production, which was seen Off Broadway two seasons back, is to reacquaint contemporary audiences with the delights of the craft, and to ennoble it a little by giving us a friendly tour of its long and interestingly disreputable history. There’s life in the old act yet, Mr. Johnson wants you to know, even if it’s been on life support for almost half a century.
When he is trading repartee with one of those chatty supporting characters, that contention is hard to argue with, even if much of the give and take is of the pleasantly harmless, joke-based kind light-years away from today’s more loosely structured and aggressive forms of stand-up comedy. Pulling from a basket the vulture named Nethernore, Mr. Johnson tells him, “Don’t be shocked by the crowd.” Comes the rejoinder: “I’m shocked you could draw a crowd.” Ba-dum-bum. A bit later Mr. Johnson asks his feather-bedecked arm, “What do you call a group of vultures?” “A law firm,” quoth Nethernore.
That vulture has terrific timing, as do the tennis ball, the snake, the chimp and the two wooden fellows — the sweet-spirited Squeaky and the bilious Bob (also a star of “Soap”) — that Mr. Johnson brings to flavorful and various comic life with his antic arm and magic voice box.
But it’s that little bit of magic that makes the difference. The crack timing is really nobody’s but Mr. Johnson’s, and yet, when it’s time for a comic payoff, his lips remain set in a placid if slightly rigid half-smile, and your eyes are trained on the yapping bird or the monkey or the beady-eyed wooden kid.
The nifty trick of talking without appearing to is what raises Mr. Johnson’s act above the level of mere puppetry to something stranger and marginally more fascinating. (Before I get hate mail from the felt-covered, highly opinionated cast of “Avenue Q,” I should add that I have nothing but respect for plain old puppetry. Really. Some of my best friends are socks.)
When he’s not catering to the temperamental egos of his laugh-hogging co-stars, Mr. Johnson takes the solo spotlight in the roles of friendly professor of ventriloquist history and stand-up memoirist. He has a naturally perky demeanor that lends his stream of anecdote a sunny sparkle, but his recollections of his early years are short on dramatic incident, and despite the unusual nature of his calling, this tale of a starry-eyed kid making it in showbiz feels oddly generic.
Ventriloquism’s vaunted creepiness is all but banished from the stage in “The Two and Only!,” as Mr. Johnson cheerfully debunks or dismisses the whispers of mystery and hints of psychological disorder that once clung to it. In movies like “Dead of Night” and “Magic” it was entertainingly depicted as a sinister predilection possibly signifying serious mental illness. But it’s hard to imagine anyone more sane or sensible than Mr. Johnson.
Skimming happily along the surface of his life, he never stops to ponder the possibility that the anger famously said to fuel comedy has a place in his psyche, or that an attraction to ventriloquism might indicate an interestingly complicated personality, a need to displace uncomfortable impulses. “The Two and Only!” would be a richer show if Mr. Johnson did admit some doubts or anxieties, or for that matter explore the tribulations of living a life on the far fringes of show business.
But Mr. Johnson is definitely not the type for broody introspection. The only squirm-inducing moment in the show is a tenderly sentimental one, when Mr. Johnson is forced to break it to his beloved Squeaky that, well, he’s just too sweet for television, and the producers of “Soap” are determined to go in another direction.
As Mr. Johnson re-enacts this tortured encounter, you may uneasily wonder whether this painful heart-to-heart between man and puppet, obviously not part of a public performance, is in fact a re-creation of an actual scene from Mr. Johnson’s life. And come to slightly disturbing conclusions. But you may also find yourself feeling for the poor wooden fellow, with his Hollywood career cut so brutally short. And longing to chuck him under his cute little chin, rumple his hair and tell him: “Cheer up, Squeaky. That’s showbiz.” Now who’s the kook?
JAY JOHNSON
The Two and Only!
Written and performed by Jay Johnson; conceived by Mr. Johnson, Murphy Cross and Paul Kreppel; directed by Ms. Cross and Mr. Kreppel; sets by Beowulf Boritt; lighting by Clifton Taylor; sound by David Gotwald; original music by Michael Andreas; production managers, Robert G. Mahon III and Jeff Wild; production stage manager, Lori Ann Zepp; associate producer, Jamie deRoy. Presented by Roger Alan Gindi, Stewart F. Lane and Bonnie Comley, Dan Whitten, Herbert Goldsmith Productions, Ken Grossman, Bob and Rhonda Silver, Michael A. Jenkins/Dallas Summer Musicals Inc. and Wetrock Entertainment. At the Helen Hayes Theater, 240 West 44th Street, Manhattan, (212) 239-6200. Running time: 1 hour 35 minutes.
