"The Big Comfy Couch - Live on Stage" Review!!
Ah…exam time. There’s no other time like it. It’s a period of frazzled nerves and leering apprehensiveness. A time when you can stay up until 4 in the morning cramming for a course that you know you should have been reviewing for 2 weeks sooner. Exam time is never a happy time at our school. It’s hard not to stress over it when you know that it makes up for 30% OF YOUR FINAL GRADE. That means you can bust your hiney studying for hours and still, more than likely, your grades will drop.
My goal for this year was to get a 90 in all my classes. That obviously ain’t happenin’. On Thursday I went into exams with a 95 in Law and an 89 in Biology. My Law mark more will probably stay high, but I can kiss my goal goodbye ’cause there is no way it’s ever gonna grace the big 9-0 range. Yes, exam time is a very depressing time.
And taking the exams is no picnic either. I swear, it’s like having your brain go into labour. You push yourself and you struggle for an AGONIZING 2 ½ hours, trying to squeeze out every bit of knowledge that you’ve learned in the course, and when it’s finally over, you go into a state of pure euphoria. I haven’t reached that state yet. Not yet, but I will soon. I finished two of my exams, but there’s still one more that I need to take on Monday: Math. Data. Management. Math. Yes, I can just see the exam now, rearing its big ugly head in my direction, grinning and gloating that I’m stuck in an academic limbo, and that the worst is surely yet to come. Exam time is a very hateful time.
But hey, the important thing is that I’m at the home stretch, and the semester is almost done. Why shouldn’t I be happy? Gosh-darn it, even if I totally blow my last exam, I should at least go out to celebrate. Which brings me to my topic: The Big Comfy Couch - Live on Stage.
Okay, so I didn’t really choose to go here as a reward to myself - I went with my dad and my younger sister since my mom bailed out at the last second. But hey - in no way was this a night wasted.
For those of you who didn’t know, The Big Comfy Couch is a Canadian-made kids show that became a huge hit in the States. It’s about a pink-trousered girl named Loonette, her dolly Molly, and wide array of supporting characters including Granny Garbanzo, Auntie Macasser, Snicklefritz the cat, and the dust bunnies. Apparently, this show takes place in an alternate dimension where everything is silly and clown-oriented, because everything has been bestowed with a bright red clown nose; the cats, the doll, the sun, everything. Heck, even the mailman, Major Bedhead, delivers packages while riding a unicycle (which I was fortunate enough to see during the performance). Compared to other kid-friendly programs, the Big Comfy Couch isn’t too bad as far as “edutainment” goes - ever since Blue’s Clues debuted in the 90’s, the airwaves have been plagued with phony, digitized baby crap that makes Reading Rainbow look like Masterpiece Theatre. Even Sesame Street - my childhood favorite from when I was growing up - has sold out and become nothing more than a mindless, Blue’s Clues knockoff. And don’t get me started with Boobah. But The Big Comfy Couch had never got caught up in the glitz and glamour of preschool-programming, and it’s that simple, down-to-earth wholesomeness that’s makes it so irresistible. But can that same wholesome charm be emulated in front of a live audience? There’s only one way to find out. TO THE CAPITAL THEATRE!
We left home around 4:00 pm and made our way to Windsor, where the big show was going to take place. It didn’t start till 7 though, so we had plenty of time to catch a bit to eat at Pizza Hut. I had brought my recently-purchased digital camera along for the ride, in hopes that could have taken some pictures that would have complimented my day’s recollection of events. I wanted to take a picture of the front of the restaurant, but that made my dad uneasy, so I decide to put it away. For now.
Inside the restaurant we had our lunch. Or dinner. Or tinner? Never mind. My sister had ordered that new rippable-dippable pizza and my dad had the oh-so original pepperoni on his side of a large pizza. I, of course, wanted to be more daring (after all, it’s not every day that I get to go to Pizza Hut), so I had green peppers, hot peppers, and ham on my side of the pizza. Yeah, I’m never doin’ that again.
After our meal, we went across the street and over to the Wal-Mart: the place of the celebrities! We didn’t stay for very long, but I was able to purchase a 3-pack of rewritable DVDs and my very own copy of “Joe’s Apartment” in the movie bargain bin. My dad said that he saw a Jean Claude van Damme movie being sold for close to 28 bucks. That ridiculous, I thought - lower that price by about $27 bucks, then we’ll talk.
At about 6:30, we finally arrived at the Capital Theatre, but not before driving around aimlessly, looking for a spot to park. Fortunately, we weren’t TOO far away, but in the 20 degree weather, we may as well have been walking from Amherstburg. I, unfortunately, have a very low tolerance for cold, so I didn’t bother taking a picture of the outside of the theatre. All I can tell you is that it was smaller than I’d thought it would be. Then again, I expected it to be a Canadian replica of the Grand Ole Opry. Irregardless, it was a nice little structure, but the minute we stepped inside, were stuck in a sea of kids. I mean, literally. The lobby was just jam-packed with people. I thanked God that I wasn’t a claustrophobic person, because I’d probably blank out after 2 minutes. Well, no - actually, if that were the case, I would have keeled over at Wal-mart. Their aisles are obscenely narrow.
As we inched our way toward the auditorium, I caught a glimpse of the souvenir stand that was set up for the show. Here are some of the prices:
Molly Dolly --> $25
Wands --> $10
Hats --> $15
T-shirts --> $15
Flowers --> $5
Dust Bunnies --> $25
Little Bear --> $20
I suppose it goes without saying, but these prices are nothing short of highway robbery. To kids, however, money is of no value - they just want what they see, so many a parent had to empty their wallet for these overpriced trinkets and baubles. My dad was one of them - he bought my sister a blue star wand. Personally, though, I probably would have chosen the same thing, as the wands were the only item being sold that would light up at the push of a button. The small toy flowers were the only decently priced item at 5 bucks a pop, but they were strategically placed far off to the side so that any child crazy enough to actually want one probably wouldn’t be able to see it. As for the Little Bear doll, he has nothing to do with The Big Comfy Couch. He’s from his own show of the same name which also happens to be Canadian. Amidst all the brightly coloured wands and Molly dolls, I couldn’t spot a single child embracing a small bear. If he were real, I’m sure Little Bear would give Maurice Sendack a piece of his mind for setting him up for such a cruel gig.
At last, we had made it to our seats. We were in Row F - pretty good seats, considering that we were only 6 rows from the front and right in the middle of all the action (I’ll explain later). As we sit and wait, my dad mentions that this old building has been around since the merry old days of Vaudeville-style theatre, way back in the 1920’s. He said that this was the type of place that the Three Stooges would frequent to perform some of their acts. Ah, I could see it now: Larry, Curly and Moe, doing their silly antics, and as a grande finale, Curly going on a wild killing spree after getting a whiff of the infamous wild hyacinth perfume. Suddenly, it all makes sense why this building’s gone through so many renovations.
Seven o’clock. The crowd is starting to get restless. My sister has used her magic wand to transform me into a beautiful princess several times already. And, on one occasion, into someone named “Old Man Jenkins”.
A-ha! Finally! A man walks onto the stage and announces that the show is about to begin. With his green shirt and far-out tie, I couldn’t tell whether he was a clown or not, so I took some pictures just to be on the safe side.
Mr. Green Shirt goes into this little spiel about sponsors and the like, and then announces that he’s going to do a draw for some free passes to future performances at the theatre. And then he says that there are NO PHOTOGRAPHY OR RECORDING DEVICES ALLOWED DURING THE SHOW.
Crap. Being the instinctively obedient person that I am, I conceal the digital camera and bemoan my bad luck. But after all, this isn’t for me, it’s for my sister. It wouldn’t be fair to her if we got kicked out of the theatre becomes I’m so desperate to get some pics for my website.
The audience applauds and the lights go down. It’s time. An opening song is played as a bunch of clowns go up and down the aisles. It’s at this moment that I realize that this would be a perfect form of treatment for a coulrophobiac. I suppose it wouldn’t be fair to the children here, though. You know, what with all the bloodcurdling screaming going on. The clowns go up on the stage and attempt to lift the curtains, thereby revealing the star of the show, Loonette, sleeping on an enormous blue-green sofa - the Big Comfy Couch. The children rejoice as Loonette wakes up and greets all of her friends in the audience. She then jumps down the onto the stage and does some sort of ritual dance in honour of the couch. And who could blame her? I mean, honestly, how many couches have you seen that can make Shaquille O’Neal look like Gary Coleman?
After Loonette finishes her song and dance, she realizes that she has a bright red bow on her finger. Apparently, Loonette has forgotten that she’s supposed to remember something. Loonette sings another song, this time, in lamentation of her accursed short-term memory. After which, Molly (her dolly who, not unlike the murderous Chuckie from “Child‘s Play“, is alive), suggests that she should do her clock stretches to get the blood flowing in her brain. Well, perhaps I should elaborate; Molly doesn’t talk. Instead, she communicates via thought bubbles containing the subject matter of which she speaks. I can tell you right now that the live version does not do poor Molly’s “speaking roles” any justice; whenever she has something to say, a large picture of a thought bubble appears on the black backdrop on the stage, but it was so blurry that half the time I didn’t realize what she was saying until Loonette had reiterated it for the audience. It must be annoying to have everything you say repeated like that. Molly must be a very patient doll.
Anywho, back to the clock stretches. Now, on tv, this segment of the show is done with Loonette lying down on her clock mat while moving her arms and legs to each hour of day. Of course, from the crowd’s perspective, we wouldn’t be able to see bubkus, so this was changed so that she could do her stretches vertically. After showing off her flexibility, Loonette breaks out yet another song, this time much more upbeat then the last, about the human body. This time, the audience is invited to participate in the song and dance, and immediately, all the little boys and girls got out of their seat to twist and shout with Loonette the clown. Everyone, that is, except my sister, who stubbornly sat in my dad’s lap, and stared straight ahead with a blank and emotionless gaze.
When this rousing tune had ended, Loonette decided to look behind the couch for any sort of clue that could jumpstart her memory. And the minute she’s out of sight, two gigantic balls of fluff emerge from underneath the couch and start to dance. These two little critters are known as the dust bunnies, and for reasons that can only be explained through both cosmic and dramatic irony, Molly and the audience are usually the only ones who know they exist on the show. I can’t say I particularly liked this segment on the stage - the dust bunnies I know on tv are cute and cuddly, so these gigantic relatives were foreign to me. For about five minutes, they traipsed around the stage, first doing a hoedown, then belting out a sick jam with a yellow and a green crayon. I won’t lie - at times I was a little freaked out.
Thankfully, Loonette did return, so the dust bunnies were forced to seclude themselves under the couch again to keep their existence a secret. At this point, Loonette decides to go visit her Granny Garbanzo, but not before singing and dancing some more. This song was called “Jump for Joy”, so obviously, it was expected of the children in the audience to get up and start hopping up and down to their heart’s content. Personally, I thought this was a fun segment for the kids, but still, my sister could not be swayed to participate. She must have been one of the few kids in the audience who did NOT want to jump. I suppose I should comment her for not succumbing to peer pressure. Yeah.
And so, after a quick set change (the couch was turned around to display an country house landscape and to reveal a white picket fence and some cabbages) Loonette grabs Molly and makes her way to Granny Garbanzo’s house. Let me just say now that Granny Garbanzo is one of my favorite characters on the show - that accent gets to me all the time. The minute she arrived onstage, it became apparent that it wasn’t about Loonette anymore. In fact, I think that Loonette was just getting us warmed up for the true star of the show, because at this point, things really start to pick up. No sooner does she make her appearance when Granny Garbanzo talks herself up, bragging about how she was once given the title of Queen in the “old country” and how she could whip up a mean sausage and cabbage pie (Mmm-boy! I could sure go for one of those now!). Anyway, Granny then goes on to suggest that Loonette should do some rhyming in order to get her brain muscles working hard. And so begins a “Rhyme Time” song, accompanied dancing. I could have sworn, that somewhere in the middle of all of it, Granny Garbanzo did the tootsies roll - or maybe that’s just me. Children in the audience got up and danced along with not one, but two clowns! (Well, two and a half, if you count Molly). My sister still did not budge from her spot. She sure is a stick in the mud.
At this point, I’m scribbling frantically in my notebook in order to get everything that I can on paper. The women sitting next to looks at me, obviously thinking that I’m crazy. I was tempted to tell her that I was doing a report for school, but that would just make me look even more hopeless, so I did my best to ignore her and her misguided pity.
Nope, even Rhyme time could not jog Loonette’s memory. But before we can hear her contemplate the fate of mankind due to her forgetfulness, another clown enter the stage. Or, more specifically, he rides on-stage, on a unicycle. Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for Major Bedhead, the amazing delivery clown. Now on the show, the actor who plays Major Bedhead is ginormously tall; the actor playing him onstage doesn’t quite reach the same physical stature, but he’s still uber-cool nonetheless. It’s M.B’s job to move the plot along by giving Granny Garbanzo her invitation to the Festival of Wiggles, Giggles and Goofy Fun. Apparently, for reasons unkown except to validate her earlier self-promotion, Granny Garbanzo is to be crowned the Cabbage Queen of Clowntown. And - wouldn’t you know it? - Loonette suddenly remembers that she, too, was invited and that she could bring along ONE guest to join her in the festivities. Now comes the first major conflict of the show. Should Loonette bring Molly, her absolute best friend in the whole entire world, or should she invite Major Bedhead, a semi-reliable good guy who, if it wasn’t for him, she would quite possibly spend the rest of her life trying to remember what was so dang important, eventually deteriorating into a mumbling Parkinsons’-laden sociopath? It’s not even close - Loonette chooses Molly, and I can only imagine how upset Major Bedhead must feel about getting rejected. I mean, it’s bad enough to always be the last one chosen for sports, or to be the only wallflower at the senior clown prom, but to get shunned over a piece of cloth? Ouch, that’s gotta hoit. M.B. rightfully expresses his deep disappointment by bawling his eyes out in pure theatrical fashion. It’s also the point in the show where the audience learns that he has a serious medical condition in which his right eye spews tear fluid at about a distance of 8 feet. I can’t remember whether or not I got wet; I can only remember wondering why on earth he hasn’t got that checked out yet.
Anyway, Loonette obviously feels upset about hurting her friend’s feelings, so she sings a depressing ballad about how she loves Major Bedhead, but how she also loves Molly too, and that’s just the way that life goes sometime. Sad, but true. I could almost see this entire scene as being justified - that is, if it weren’t for the fact that immediately afterwards, Granny Garbanzo states that she’s allowed to bring a guest as well and, unsurprisingly, she invites Major Bedhead. Thanks a lot, Granny - you just wasted about 15 minutes of my life. And so, the three (and a half) excited clowns decide that there’s no use sitting around blabbing and singing and that it’s time to hurry home and get dressed up for the Festival. Hence, the stage is cleared, which can only mean one thing:
Intermission.
Yes, intermission. A word that is often synonymous with the phrase “rush-hour traffic to the restroom”. I knew better than to try to hold it in, especially since I wanted to review this properly, so I made my way up the crowded aisles and back to where there was a huge line-up for the stalls. There probably should have been a sign that said “20 minute wait from this point”, ‘cause that’s about how long I had to stand in that mid-room between the lobby and the “toilets” - if you could even call them that; apparently, they couldn’t take the pressure and pretty gave up after about the first 50 people. Man, I’m just glad I got out of there before things really got messy. And on a side note, what’s with the old towel dryer? You know what I mean - those old-fashioned contraptions that contain a long, rolled up towel that millions of people dry their hands with? Disgusting! I know they’re trying to keep the nostalgic feel to this building and all, but this is a theatre, not a bowling alley! For God’s sake, would it hurt to invest in some paper towels? Or maybe even an electric dryer? I’d like to see who’s pointing fingers at who when a safety inspector has to make an unexpected pit stop….
Oh, well. Moving on, I returned to my seat to find that my sister was absent. Actually, she was a few feet away, in the middle of the aisles, having a wand fight with some other kids who had convinced their parents to chalk up 10 bucks. Oh yeah, sure - it’s all fun and games until someone loses an eye.
Eight o’clock. The audience is seated once again as act three commences (okay, so it’s probably not REALLY act three, but it sounds just about right, don’t you think?). Loonette is back at the Big Comfy Couch, and both she and Molly are deciding on what to wear. Molly suggests through thought projection that she should wear her bunny ears to the Festival (which I could have sworn looked a heck of a lot like butterfly wings against the black backdrop), and Loonette chooses to wear a frilly pink tutu/apron ensemble. Not exactly the most flattering thing to put on one’s body, but hey - she’s a clown, whaddya expect? They then prepare to leave, but before they do, Loonette has to make sure that they are beautiful on the inside as well as the outside. Um….I’m not even gonna touch that….
After a one-two, inside-outside checkup, both Loonette and Molly make their way back to Granny Garbanzo’s house. I’ll tell you, I really got a kick out of this scene, because when Granny Garbanzo comes back onstage, she’s wearing this white, poofy clown dress that can only be described as either a swan tutu or a tutu embedded with wads of paper tissue. Either way, Granny sure outdoes Loonette and is a definite candidate for “Best Dressed” in Clown-People magazine. And while it can’t be seen onstage, I’m sure that Loonette is livid that her grandmother has a better fashion sense than she ever will. I wouldn’t be surprised if, one day, Granny’s famous sausage and cabbage pies start tasting a lot like Tarte aux Snickelfritz. I’m getting off-topic here.
Moments later, Major Bedhead enters the stage, escorted by what appears to be three clown triplets with Raggedy-Ann style hairdos. Okay, so not only is he a delivery-guy, he’s also a part-time pimp as well. Interesting. Now that the whole gang’s here, everyone partakes in a spontaneous swing dance, which is soon cut short by the fact that Major Bedhead has two left feet and can’t get jiggy with it. So it’s up to Granny Garbanzo to enlist him in the “Learn to dance in 5 Minutes” program, as she commences to go into some sort of cabaret/salsa transitional movements until, miraculously, he can do the jitterbug like it’s nobody’s business. (during this little number, the three Raggedy-Ann triplets suddenly become Granny’s official back-up dancers. I tell ya, that Granny Garbanzo can really steal the show).
Now that everyone’s “footloose“, it’s finally time to go to Clowntown and take part in the Festival of Wiggles, Giggles, and Goofy Fun! Only problem is that when they arrive, there is a total lack of all three components. Instead, what they walk into is a town filled with manic-depressant civilians who are just on the borderline of hanging themselves with their own floppy clown-shoelaces. The Mayor of Clowntown enters and explains to Loonette and the others that the Festival will have to be cancelled because, apparently, everyone was so busy preparing for the event and having such a good time that they plumb forgot about it. I swear, this town needs a serious dosage of Ginko Biloba in their diets.
And so, not one to easily give up on being praised, Granny Garbanzo suggests that they find some new clowns. Clowns that aren’t busy making sausage and cabbage pies. Clowns like…the ones in the audience! Yes, but they don’t want the children, they want adults. So when the characters jump off the stage and into the crowd, Loonette tells the kiddies that if they want their mommies and daddies to act as a temp for the festival, they should force their parents hands up in the air immediately so that they can be chosen. And here, believe it or not, is when my sister actually gets involve. Where she’s no longer a spectator, she’s the force that drives the rest of this review. My sister yanks my dad’s hand up in the air and - by nothing else but the all powerful grace of some omnipotent force in the universe - Granny Garbanzo had made visual contact. Oh my freakin’ God: dad’s goin’ onstage! At this point I’m shocked beyond words, as is dad, who I bet, had really no desire to be yanked from his seat in the middle of the performance. He’s a little reluctant at first, but Granny does not take no for an answer, and before my sister and I know it, dad (along with many other unsuspecting parents) has been whisked up the stairs and away backstage, having Lord-knows-what done to him. Whatever was going on, it was bound to take a while, so Major Bedhead decided to kill some time by showing off his amazing juggling abilities. And here’s where I’m thoroughly entertained, because if there’s one talent that I truly appreciate, it’s the ability to juggle. There I sat, mesmerized, as I saw Major Bedhead do things with three bowling pins that I thought could only be done in the movies. Yes, when it comes to juggling, I am easily, easily impressed.
After that flawless performance came the moment of truth. “Ladies and Gentlemen,” announces the mayor, “Please put your hands together for your Clowns of Windsor”! The adults fill the stage - no longer mere mortals, but entertainers, dressed in various random suits and outfits and, of course, all adorning a big red nose. Dad was among the procession, wearing what looked like a bib and one of the old people wraps. Ha ha ha. Basically, all the replacement clowns had to do was walk around the stage in circles and then do the limbo. That’s it - it could’ve been worse, though; they could have been lined up against the wall and executed clown-style with a barrage of cream pies. It would probably be funnier, but not very appreciated by the volunteers, both willing and unwilling.
The temptation was killing me at this point. How often was I going to see my dad doing the limbo??!! At last, my moral fibre was sheared. To hell with rules, I declared, as I whipped my digital camera out of its purse prison and had managed to snap one more picture...
And here it is!!!
The quality was really crappy, and really blurry since everyone was constantly moving about (my dad's the one wearing the pink bib and black shirt on the far right). But this crappy pic signifies my commitment to bend the rules to provide a little taste of unseen material. You better be thankful - I hung myself on the line for you people!!!
Anywho, after this particular scene, things started to get a bit hazy. All I can really remember after that was that Loonette and the gang had decided to go into some sort of rave mode and they all just sort of danced around for a while. Perhaps they all had snuck a shot of tequila while I wasn’t paying attention; sometime during all of this, one of the Raggedy Ann triplets hijacked a scooter and drove it around the stage, while another, thinking that she could tapdance, stomped around like a woman with her feet on fire. And then it started getting REALLY out of hand when Major Bedhead brought out the knives and, mistaking them for bowling pins, started juggling them. Even Granny Garbanzo was concerned for their safety when she saw those knives sailing in the air, one wrong move resulting in an impromptu haircut of biblical proportions. He eventually got the hint, and opted for a more safer medium: small red balls. Surprisingly, he messed up with the balls, but I’M not gonna dog him for that, and anyone who does better be able to juggle 10 chainsaws, blindfolded, while singing Ave Maria backwards or they deserve an open-handed slap in the mouth.
The rave high thankfully did subside, and Loonette went home with Molly to initiate the ten-second tidy. This is the part of the show where Loonette throws a hissy fit over the mess that she left and then tries pretend like she had no idea where it came from. To be honest, I really see no difference between this segment and the “Clean up” song that Barney the dinosaur does to pick up, though I definitely prefer the former since a) there’s no inane singing involved, and b) it’s only 10 seconds long (duh). Once everything has all been put away in its proper place - crammed inside the huge couch mattresses, it’s time for Loonette to say good-bye. She yawns, signifying that’s she’s tired; after, its been a very long day (and now I could sure use an aspirin). The lights dim as both she and Molly snuggle up against the couch/bed/toybin/haven-for-the-unholy-dust-bunnies, and the curtains close. It’s over!!
So, what did I think of The Big Comfy Couch: Live on Stage? Well, to be honestly, I actually thought it was quite enjoyable. Granted, it was no “Lion King on Stage“, but I did laugh wholeheartedly on more than one occasion. It would probably be unfair of me to give this performance a rating based on my own opinion, since, obviously, the entertainment is geared mostly at the littlun’s - it would be even more unfair to rate this based on the fact that my stomach nearly imploded when I came home thanks to the pizza toppings I experimented with. I should probably finish it this off now: go see The Big Comfy Couch: Live on Stage if you have a fetish for freaky clown fun, but NOT if you have a phobia of floppy shoes. And that’s all she wrote.
Sylva S. Soul
