Seven.11 turned out to be insanely good, and if you’re in NYC you have only five days left to see it. This series of seven short plays, each 11 minutes long is absolutely hilarious, and the performers were obviously having a blast.
I love this deeply about NYC, you can see desi American scripts you can’t see performed anywhere else: it’s custom culture. Anuvab Pal’s piece was good, as usual, but the consistency was surprising — maybe five or six of the seven microplays were really, really good, or at the very least funny, and the rest is forgivable. The off-off-Broadway aspect of the whole endeavor lowers expectations, but I could see some of these, fleshed out, doing well on a large stage.
Soonderella is destined to be a cult hit. It’s definitely the only desi parody musical I’ve ever seen. Debargo Sanyal’s stammering, braying swain F-F-Fofatlal brought down the house. Pal’s Paris is a sharper, more malignant Before Sunrise; as in Chaos Theory, he has quite the ear for the advance and reverse of flirtation, it’s love as war zone. My only real complaint is the purely classicist flavor of the references, Sartre is no longer a young Turk.
Color Me Desi is a takeoff on Goodness Gracious Me’s rude boyz, and S.A.M.O.S.A. (South Asian Men Organizing Sci-Fi somethings) is a gut-busting Asian version of Napoleon Dynamite. And the in-jokes were fabulous. One actor had a line in the first piece, ‘C’est la vie — it’s your line.’ In the final play, the same actors: ‘C’est la vie.’ ‘Deja vu?’ Winky tone, blink and you missed it.
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