Theater Review: Bliss political comedy show starts bumpy, but ends well
On Sunday, Oct.30, Piedmont Virginia Community College’s (PVCC) V. Earl Dickinson Theater, along with the PVCC Political Club and Charlottesville’s Thomas Jefferson Center for the Protection of Free Speech, hosted an evening with comedian Chris Bliss. For anyone who is familiar with Bliss’s unique style of entertainment, labeling him a stand-up comedian may feel like an under-sell: he is also billed as a writer, political activist, Bill of Rights advocate and even “The worlds most famous juggler”.
But, as Bliss took the stage it quickly became clear that his broad repertoire can sometimes work to his disadvantage by providing the illusion that he is a “ family-friendly” comedian; he is not.
That is not to say that he is particularly obscene, raunchy or even edgy, but the subject matter covered in his 90 minute set was definitely geared towards adults. And, as Bliss emerged from the curtain and walked into the glaring beam of the spotlight, his expression immediately turned from one of jovial excitement to one of concerned frustration as he found himself face to face with a front row full of a comedian’s worst nightmare: children.
As Bliss scrambled to adjust his vernacular from adult mode to PG mode, his set began to unravel, and the (mostly adult) audience’s frustration with the situation became palpable. It began to feel like an Annie Lebowitz exhibit hanging in the peanut gallery.
It turns out, his finale, a five minute, three tennis-ball modern dance routine set to The Beatles “Abbey Road,” would not be the only juggling act of the evening. To his credit, however, while it was no lemonade, Bliss was able to pull off his hi-brow, intellectual set with only a few awkward pauses, and even promised the children that their parents would explain the “Jeffery Dahmer” material on the car ride home.
As Bliss began to relax, so did the audience. The tension began to melt as the audience giggled their way through an hour or so of jokes about marriage, parenthood, and the lack thereof, growing up in the sixties and living in the now.
After a segue into a short infomercial-style shill for donations to help his Bill of Rights Monument project (MyBillofRights.org), Bliss began his finale. “Turn it up,” he yelled to the sound tech as he began to furiously toss the bright yellow balls into the air. While he did drop one ball, he was quick to replace it, and get on with the show.
And though it was quite a departure from the rest of his set, the finale managed, somehow, to bring the whole room together. Kids and their parents, teachers and their students, were all fixated on Bliss’s energetic routine. The music is timeless and the message hasn’t changed: “In the end, the love you take, is equal to the love you make.”