Dirty Rotten Scoundrels opened last night at the Music Hall at Fair Park. I’m sad to hear that our girl about town, Jenny Block, didn’t much care for it. The movie happens to be one of my favorites. Then again, how can you duplicate that? No one will ever beat Steve Martin.
Read on for her report.
My new friend George said it best when it comes to describing this show: “It’s 12-year-old humor.” My thoughts exactly. There were fart jokes and mooning and other “humor” that was, at best, in very poor taste. The performers were quite good with goregous voices—when you could hear them, of course. Microphones kept going out, and the typical Music Hall sound problems were at work. As usual, I couldn’t catch some of the lyrics because of it. But in this case I was relieved that I couldn’t hear them because, quite frankly, I was offended. Not because it was scandalous, but because it was base and tacky. Now the two hearty women seated behind us were having a heck of a time, laughing their rear ends off, kicking the backs of our chairs, and pointing out and repeating the “funny” parts. It was like watching a show with Beavis and Butthead. “He said ass. Huh, huh. huh.” I did laugh in spite of myself a few times, I’ll admit. But overall, Dirty Rotten Scoundrels is not my idea of good theater.