Playwright: written and performed by the ensemble. At: Second City at Pipers Alley, 1616 N. Wells St. Tickets: 312-337-3992; www.secondcity.com; $23. Runs through: open run
Unlike such niche-market troupes as Annoyance, the Public House, the Cornservatory, Gorilla Tango and the Cupid Players, Second City's international status attracts patrons of all demographics, reflecting cultural backgrounds ranging from urban neighborhoods and nearby suburbs to faraway countries. Faced with the task of finding comedy appealing to such a diverse audience, it's as easy to err on the side of dumb as on the side of smart in selecting material.
This 103rd revue bravely risks the latter, with a sharp-witted sketch proposing two advertising execs in search of a sales pitch for a feminine hygiene product, finally deciding on a campaign based in its origins as surgical equipment for treating battlefield injuries. ( Look up "tampon" in the dictionary, folks. ) Cerebral speculation also characterizes the scenario introducing a pair of cattle drivers who pass the time on a starry frontier night in imagining the exotic lifestyles of strangers, their wistful musings invoking the existential solemnity of U.S. literature's classic heroes.
It's not all Stoppardian head-scratching, however. The opening-night roster offered the expected ridicule of the usual suspects: clueless parents, ultra-hip teenagers ( readily supportive of their gay, bi and trans peers, but less accepting of an—ewww—overweight comrade ) and a nervous airline passenger whose Arabic-speaking seatmate can't resist having some fun at his expense. A situation beginning in a standard-issue premise, though, may suddenly take a surprising turn: One half of a squabbling married couple is gradually revealed to be hospitalized in a vegetative coma, for example, or a school principal forced to discipline a bully discovers that the culprit is deaf.
Other highlights include a prenatal-care class invaded by a chorus from Les Miserables—I'm not giving away the punch line, but I promise you'll laugh—and a topical barb delivered by a mother whose five young children are attributed to her employers' insurance plan. We even get a demonstration of the cast's improvisation techniques, with the assistance of a spectator pulled from the audience. ( On the night I attended, it was an investment consultant from DiMeo Schneider, who showed himself to be a good sport, sitting in a barber's chair serviced by a scissor-wielding Daniel Strauss. )
A trademark of Second City humor is its timeliness, with many of the sketches giving way to others later in the run. What's guaranteed is that the newly rehabbed interior of the Pipers Alley club makes for a more physically comfortable experience than in days past, rendering enjoyable the wait for the moment that strikes your funnybone in just the right spot.
