The Buttered Niblets opened up their show Friday night by violently hurling candy into the crowd. To their credit, they did not know that they were being a bit too forceful, but hands went up to protect faces and panicked cries were heard.
The performers apparently took the cries as ones of jubilation and the gestures as attempts to snatch candy out of the air and so redoubled their treat-dispersing efforts. After a chaotic few seconds it was all over, leaving only a few minor injuries, and the show began.
There is something about live shows that makes everything funnier. Perhaps the psychology majors can tell you why, but the important part is how well it works for the Buttered Niblets. The connection between the performers and the audience was strong last weekend, as is common with improv.
The nature of the form lets us share in the performers' trip-ups, their thought processes, and be especially entertained at the end result.
The Niblets showcased mostly "long-form" games this round. A suggestion from the audience was requested - "pineapples" - and they went with it. Quickly introduced was a theme that would recur throughout the night: violence against children.
In print it sounds almost vile, but it was (mostly) tastefully done, with a continuing story of two lovers whose relationship is based mostly on their mutual love of murdering schoolchildren.
When a member of the troupe thought any particular scene had reached the maximum level of potential humor, he or she would run a quick loop around the cast to "edit" it or signal a change.
I felt that sometimes the players on the sidelines were too hesitant to employ this device, but admit at the same time it is often difficult to tell if the improviser is on the cusp of hilarity or floundering in a bad idea.
After one such change-up, two more themes were introduced: an eccentric couple with a penchant for home shopping and prefacing common nouns with "the," and the character "Roomba," a robot who communicates Pokemon-style, only able to say his own name.
Sophomore Eric Levitz did a particularly good job with this character, hilariously capturing all of Roomba's emotions in a single word.
Later, after this first series of sketches, an audience volunteer was requested. They sat the poor girl in the center of the stage, whereupon a "Chorus of Daniel Day-Lewises" emerged - three improvisers reciting the infamous "milkshake" speech from There Will Be Blood at full volume and ferocity. The volunteer, of course, lost it.
The group then presented an improv form first introduced by New York group Mother. As explained by senior Adar Eisenbruch, acknowledging this meant they were not plagiarizing.
The Niblets asked, via the all-powerful Facebook, that people submit songs to be included in a sound track. They then reverse-engineered scenes based on what the music suggested, having never previously heard the selections.
While mostly effective, the musically inspired scenes tended to start with someone dancing onto the stage. An isolated occurrence of this would have been fine, but to make almost every scene music-based using the sound track selection seemed a cop-out.
Regardless, luminous freshman Remy Patrizio helped carry many of these scenes, perhaps due to her status as "the only individual with ovaries" performing for the Niblets, thus making her the obvious candidate for romantic scenes.
Only once did I think the Niblets went "too far." During a techno "Hallelujah" mix, members of a Christian gym declared that they were ready to "knock out Satan," etc.
Now, Jesus and I aren't exactly the best of buds, but I cringed a little at the declaration (and I paraphrase), "I feel so good. I could stab holes in my hands." Ouch. Fortunately, the Niblets recovered and ended nicely.
Another volunteer was called, this time to describe his day to the performers. After a hesitant description of his rather unremarkable day, the Niblets performed their interpretation of what his dreams would be that night.
The dream was dominated by penis jokes, a base form of humor perhaps, but it came directly from the volunteer's description of his daily activities. No, dear reader, it was simply that he and his friends enjoy drawing phalluses on each other's sleeping bodies.
We were revisited by the murderous, pineapple-picking couple later, while they visited an orchard to try to rebuild their now-faltering relationship. It seems they had chased away or killed all prospective toddlers.
In a scene that garnered lots of "awws" from the audience, junior Scott Morse and freshman Mike Alfieri, walking on their knees, played apple-picking preschoolers.
Alfieri's toddler-voice was unexpected and unparalleled, making everything he said sickeningly sweet and face-meltingly cute.
So cute, it turns out, that it turned the hearts of the homicidal couple. Finally, we had a full closure of an improvised storyline. Not a small feat.
There was also an ongoing joke about a high school teacher with a melon-smashing fetish. Along the way, several other fetishists presented themselves, asking various tasks of a Harvard-happy student. Honestly, I think this was the one joke that consistently fell a little flat. Perhaps I too closely associate such things with fruit-smashing comedian Gallagher.
Sure, it's not exactly Colin Mochrie and Ryan Stiles, but the Buttered Niblets put on a good show. The laughter from the audience at times could have been described as "riotous."
Buttered Niblets shows cost a whopping $1. Why they even even bother, I can't imagine, but it's good for Hopkins students much in need of comic relief.
