Whoopi: A Solo Show That Really Isn't

"Sounds like a mighty white audience out there.", Whoopi Goldberg remarks after an attempt to get a group response results in a timid murmur.

For the record, it was a mighty white audience, and after getting a hearty laugh from her gentle ribbing, many shouted a more boisterous reply when she gave them a second chance.

"When I'm talking to you", she explains as one of her characters, "I'm really talking to you."

The audience is an extremely important part of Whoopi, an updated version of her 1984 Broadway show which directly led to her national celebrity. Although the house lights are down, there are spotlights shining on the spectators throughout the entire performance. Not only are we here to see Whoopi, but she's here to see us.

It was Mike Nichols who discovered Whoopi Goldberg performing her solo show at Dance Theatre Workshop and his name figured prominently in promoting her Broadway debut. The words "Mike Nichols presents Whoopi Goldberg" helped attract the kind of low-key, cerebral crowd that could quote The Graduate on cue, considered Mort Saul to be the Lord's messenger and have worn out the grooves on their Nichols and May albums. White or otherwise, they're the sort of people who would never dream of making any noise in a theatre beyond a hearty laugh.

But Whoopi will have none of that. Her left-wing slanted material begs for reaction. She preaches to a choir and demands they sing out. Eventually, some do.

Whoopi Goldberg is not a stand-up comic, but to paraphrase an annoying old commercial, she plays several of them on stage. Her five characters (six if you get an encore) are all aware they are giving a performance, or at least talking to a large crowd. Her jokes, in a sense, often bare less importance than the character who's telling them.

The most obvious case is her opening act, Fontaine, a former dope addict who's back on the product so long as George Bush is in the White House. (He reminds me a lot of that guy on the 1 train who can last two express stops telling Michael Jackson jokes before asking for change.) It would do a complete disservice to both performer and audience to simply jot down a few of Fontaine's anti-Republican jokes as an example of his humor. Most of them are observations we've all heard before. But what makes Fontaine so wonderfully funny (to urban liberals) is the rhythm and tone of his delivery. His abundance of language you can't use on network television is absolutely necessary to contrast with the esteemed office in question. Goldberg uses her profanity the way Lenny Bruce did; selectively and purposefully.

Each new persona is a study of the musicality of character comedy. The drawling Lurleen, a menopausal Texan, talks in disbelief about the methods modern women use to "improve" their appearance. A valley girl's verbal ping-pong of a monologue is adorable until her story screeches into a sobering reality. In her most touching acting performance, a woman of an unspecified disability is suspicious of a man who asks her out and gradually lets down her defenses when she realizes someone can consider her worthy of romantic love. A light, perhaps not completely realized bit about a woman with a zen-like appreciation for Law and Order ends the 90 minute show.

Many terrific contemporary comics give off a rock star persona. They command the stage and overwhelm you with their charisma. Whoopi Goldberg is more of a comedic jazz artist. She doesn't pick on people, but by encouraging responses she invites them to collaborate with her on an improvisation. Sometimes it's a laugh. Sometimes it's a shouted remark. Sometimes, as in the performance I saw, it's a motherly gesture of tough love.

Photos by Joan Marcus

For more from Michael Dale visit dry2olives.com