Movie Geek: Little Tramp Redux

The multi-media play "Movie Geek" is not unlike its' namesake and protagonist; it wants to be loved. And there is much to love about it, but, also like the titular film fanatic, its' reach just slightly exceeds its' grasp.

"Movie Geek" is a mash up of Citizen Kane, Ken Burns documentaries, pop-culture deluge, and cinema homage. Using a well crafted blend of live action and screen projections, it tells how a nameless, nerdy farm boy falls in love with the movies, and proudly takes the moniker Movie Geek (the perpetually starry-eyed Dylan Dawson). Through sheer passion for all things silver screen, he becomes a mogul in his own right, bringing movies to the masses and building the sprawling estate, "Castle Blanket" (say it out loud, and think "We'll always have Paris"). There is the tempestuous romance, the public disgrace, reclusive seclusion, and the persistent wearing of grey sweatpants. Throughout, there are also enough movie references and quotes to dizzy Ebert and/or Roper.

This production is funny, and inventive. The onstage cast of "Movie Geek" is wonderfully versatile. Playing M.G.s' muse Paulette Arquette Barrymore, Maggie Marion is by turns adorably sullen and kittenishly gruff, a dorky boys' dream girl. Narrator Josh Halloway continually swills a highball, waves a conductors' baton, and looks like Elvis Costello as he periodically staggers into the action. A trio of performers (Eric Clem, Adam Lustick, and the exceptional Shannon Walker) play the many colorful characters along our heros' path to fame. Each actor is able to give straight faced, unobtrusive interpretations of such iconic figures as Bogart, Walt Disney, Jimmy Stewart, and even pudding pop pitchman Bill Cosby.

The mind tricks start, however, when we segue from a young white man in a varicolored sweater, doing an impression of the erstwhile Cliff Huxtable, to video footage of the REAL Bill Cosby (who appears to be sitting at bar in Coney Island). Incredibly, the celebrity in the video is reminiscing about his own down-and-out early days spent with Movie Geek, which were moments ago being depicted on stage. There are a number of these pre-taped cameos that bring forth startled laughs, and make one wonder what favors or bribes changed hands to get them filmed. There are other clever uses of the screen, in particular a George A. Romero zombie reference that, for a startling moment, elegantly destroys the wall between celluloid and stage.

The bad news is that the innovations get repetitive and the increasing attempts to wring unfeigned pathos from the quirky subject matter wear thin. If this 90-minute show were half an hour shorter, it would have been a perfect bite of Fringe eccentricity. The show wears out its' welcome during Movie Geeks long, Howard Hughes-style decline. In the end, the production, ironically, falls victim to its' own vanity.

Still, "Movie Geek" is performed with an impressive balance of enthusiasm and attention to detail. All the gimmicks with the screen are precisely choreographed, and the boundless love that the whole play has for the movies is infectious.