In the acclaimed stage show An Evening with Groucho, the actor-director gets to be all that and more, as his spot-on channeling of the classic comic force of nature Groucho Marx comes to the Count Basie Theatre for the first time. Performed with piano accompaniment, minimal set and trademark makeup, the 90-minute, all-ages friendly tour de farce mixes canonical Marxist quotes, anecdotes from a life in show business, signature silly songs (“Hooray for Captain Spalding,” “Lydia, the Tattooed Lady”), and — in a bracingly contemporary touch — an interactive element that finds Ferrante/Groucho duckwalking the theater aisles. “Fully one-third of it is improvised,” says Ferrante. “That’s what Groucho’s magic was, really – the ability to create comedy on the spot.” Get your tickets ($19 – $49) right here — and when you take it ’round the corner for more Weekender wonderment, tell ’em Groucho sent you.
Live actors, musicians and sound effects artists perform beneath the projected art of Tim Doyle as THE INTERGALACTIC NEMESIS makes its maiden voyage to Red Bank. (Click image below to enlarge)
By TOM CHESEK
It was almost 75 years ago that a young guy named Orson Welles drove thousands of New Jerseyans into Martian-fueled panic, courtesy of a radio play called War of the Worlds using little more than a handful of actors, a busy-box of sound effects and a live mic.
Here in the jet-pack and moving-sidewalk world of 2012, we like to think were more sophisticated than that. But when the phenomenon known as The Intergalactic Nemesis touches down in New Jersey (at Red Banks own Count Basie Theatre) for the first time on January 28, it may represent the leading edge of an ongoing invasion.
By DUSTIN RACIOPPI
For a 22-year-old, there’s something a little unusual about ending each day by opening a notebook and writing “Dear Diary.” Logging one’s daily activities in comic strips is even odder, admits Alex Rosen though he does just that, in spite of an aversion to the form.
“I never read comics,” said Rosen, of Little Silver. “No matter what, comics are never cool.”
Still, Rosen puts his day-to-day life down in black-and-white ink in small square frames because, he says, “I’d like to make them be cool.”
That’s a simple explanation, but for Rosen, who’s documented his daily life the last five years in comics, the circadian exercise lends itself to personal reflection, shame, growth and an excuse to wear the same outfit every day.