Audio By Carbonatix
Robert Dubac is so lively, witty and inventive, it’s easy to forgive the mild chauvinism that runs through his riotous one-man show at the Vogue Theatre, The Male Intellect (An Oxymoron). With a title like this one, you might suppose the writer/actor would spend the evening male-bashing–and, indeed, there are plenty of mea culpas to go around. But Dubac’s wry humor includes plenty of accusations against the fairer sex as well.
Comedy is very often about hostility–the proven safety valve for blowing off steam. That’s why it’s easy to laugh and enjoy Dubac’s take on the war between the sexes, even when a thread of hostility occasionally works its way into the production. He knows what buttons to push and what assumptions to make to keep the audience on tenterhooks, but he’s never mean-spirited.
One of the funniest gags opens the show, as Dubac explains that his girlfriend has left him and he doesn’t know why. He’s so confused that he’s bought a pile of books to clarify just what it is that women want. The titles of these self-help books, taken together, reflect the pathetic state of chaos that has descended on men and women.
Then Dubac takes you on a journey to his brain. The left side is cluttered with a wide assortment of junk–including all the advice his male friends have given him over the years about managing women. The right side (which houses the emotions) is empty except for a revolving blackboard. On one side of the slate Dubac has written phrases that lay out his view of the male psyche. Men have all got penises, and that’s the problem, as he sees it. Everything else–the lies, the violence, the ego, the rationalizations of bad behavior, the obsession with sex, the belching on cue–is all related to that one anatomical fact.
The other side of the blackboard is blank, and each of Dubac’s five male friends emerge to write on it a word summing up what they think women want. Dubac plays all six characters, changing into various hats and coats that embody each character’s personality. The colonel in his Army cap is one of the biggest blowhards–but even he knows what not to say. His word is “honesty”–women want honesty, just not too much of it, he tells young “Bobby.”
Then there’s suave Jean Michel–who spouts elaborate metaphors and similes and believes speaking French is the surest way to a woman’s heart. Fast Eddie is a Jack Nicholson type who loves ’em and leaves ’em before they can love him and leave him. He says that what women want is passion–and he’s an expert at choosing the kind of women who choose the wrong men. Old Mr. Linger, an extremely patient fisherman, tarries his whole life for the perfect woman. He’s up to 120 years and counting, and that’s his secret to longevity–waiting for perfection. Ronnie Cabrezzi, on the other hand, is a sweet Italian kid whose whole life revolves around women–particularly his girlfriend. Political correctness doesn’t enter his tiny brain, but he is nevertheless the sweetest and most natural of all the guys.
By the end of the evening of fast-paced gags and complicated innuendos, Bobby has learned that women want honesty, communication, passion, sensitivity, a sense of humor, and one last thing Bobby has to work out for himself–something to do with his girlfriend’s cat.
Dubac himself alternates between boyish charm and a kind of hilarious naughtiness that can be as aggravating as it is amusing. His intelligent parody of sexual politics keeps us involved, and his clever riffs, spinning off puns and subtle wordplay, are all good fun. But the nonsensical pop psychology that underlies his assumptions about the differences between men and women is finally rather grim. His reductionist explanations (the play’s entire theme is expressed in the tired old cliche “Men think, women feel”) leaves you laughing, maybe, but not much enriched. Meanwhile, the war just goes on.