BWW Reviews: SANDRA BERNHARD Is Not Only #Blessed, But She's Also Authentic, Riveting, and Hilarious at Joe's Pub

By: Dec. 28, 2014
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"Life is fragile and that's the f***ing way it is."

So states Sandra Bernhard in her new one-woman show, Sandra Bernhard is #blessed, playing two shows a night this week at Joe's Pub (culminating in a set on New Year's Eve). Her end-of-the-year residency-a tradition for the past several years now-is this always-intriguing comic performer's opportunity to reflect on the past year, and offer us her unique perception of reality. And if you like your reality served straight up with a twist, as I do, this is a show for you.

For her second show on Friday's opening night, Bernhard took the stage looking quite glamorous in a dark, form-fitting sequined frock that showcased her adorable kneecaps, and wearing spike-heeled, silver "baked potato" Siegerson Morrison boots. The lady is still rocking the sexy, while she professes to be "done and dusted" with being a "crazy bed-hopping nut." Bernhard has been in a 16-year committed relationship with Sara, whom she refers to as her girlfriend, not as her "partner," lest they sound like lawyers in the same firm. The women have a child together, but as Bernhard tells us, when her accountant crunched the numbers, marriage just didn't show a "big enough return on her investment." She'd rather not mingle her funds with anyone else.

Always underrated as a singer, Bernhard opens with "Where Am I Going?" from Sweet Charity, the Bob Fosse musical derived from the Fellini film Nights of Cabiria (see them both!). In her big, belt-y voice she sings: Where am I going? And what will I find? What's in this grab bag that I call my mind? Like an eccentric dumping out her purse, Bernhard proceeds to unpack her fabulous grab bag of a mind, and spreads it all out on the stage for our perusal, helping us to understand our own cluttered minds a bit better and to show us that we are not as alone as we may sometimes feel.

And we travel along Bernhard's slipstream of consciousness, as she explores family, popular culture, the media, the entertainment business, and politics, slipping comfortably from sarcastic to heartfelt to bitter to proud to sad to outraged to outrageous. Listening to Sandra's soliloquy is a cathartic experience, as she speaks truth to power and convention and holds nothing back. Although she's raising a 16-year-old daughter she clearly adores, she describes parenting as a "Shit show. Don't bother." She talks about losing her mother this year-"I haven't fully processed it yet"-and being estranged from her father, whom she describes as "A Jew, in Arizona, with a gun? No thank you." She follows this by singing an original song, maybe to herself, with the refrain "Pull it together." Afterwards, she admits, "It's been a shitty year."

Mixed into this straight up reality, cruising along the stream, we sometimes find ourselves suddenly swirling in an eddy of pop-culture fantasy, such as a drawn out musing about finding Christine McVie (of Fleetwood Mac) slinging hash in a roadside coffee shop, having burnt out on the rock scene. Telling the story between verses of her original song "Nightingale" (a tribute to McVie), Bernhard shakes a tambourine adorned with long fringe as she shimmies her hips, at once sexy and silly. Later, she spins an elaborately fantastic yarn about an affair she had with Brad Pitt on the set of the film Ocean's Eleven, only to run into an irate and jealous Angelina at Cannes, leading into a spoof on Dolly Parton's song "Jolene."("Jolie, Jolie, Jolie, Jolie-eeee.") Bernhard's band, The Flawless Zircons, is led by her longtime Music Director Mitch Kaplan (30 years together, she tells us), with Kevin Andreas on guitar and Jon Badamo on drums (her New York lineup). They rock mightily, but mostly in the shadows. But they seize their moment to shine, holding down a solid groove before the encore, with Andreas throwing in a few tasty solos.

Bernhard crosses from searing, caustic diatribe to cool detached fantasy to observational non-sequiturs with such deftness, you don't have time to question or be confused--it's all too spot-on and hilarious not to simply roll with it. Some of the funniest moments come from her trademark verbatim readings of newspapers, advertising mailers, and catalogues. Using her voice as a weapon, she slices these accepted texts into ribbons of ridiculousness.
"Is broth the new juice?" she asks, reading a headline from the New York Times. She turns to a new page and reads, "Schmaltz doesn't get the respect it deserves." Okay, maybe you had to be there, but trust me this shit is funny and riveting. And it seems spontaneous. I imagine that each night she simply opens a paper and hones in on some unintentionally comic material.

Bernhard closed with Mike D'Abo's "Handbags and Gladrags" (popularized by Rod Stewart), displaying again with this song how she clearly loves to sing and that she can open up her rich alto and pour her heart out on every song. When she returned for an encore, she had changed into black jeans and a t-shirt-her own merch-and sang a medley of dance tunes, a mixture of the gay dance anthem "I Just Want to Feel This Moment" and the Iggy Azalea songs "Black Widow" and "Fancy." She sang full-throated and shook her ass like the sexy mama she is and always has been, conjuring her inner-Mick Jagger (outer too-she shares the same big-mouthed sexy pout). Woo-hoo, honey!

Sandra Bernhard takes no prisoners and pulls no punches. She drops enough F-bombs to blow the city to smithereens. And if those don't do the job, she will set the place afire with her white-hot intelligence. She is authentic, unapologetically pissed, heartbroken, and of course, hilarious. She is one of us, cooing into the mic as she prepares to leave the stage, "Love you, love you, love you." Love you, too, Sandra.

Sandra Bernhard Is #blessed is at Joe's Pub nightly from Sunday-Tuesday, December 28-30 at 7:30 PM and 9:30 PM and Wednesday, December 31 at 9:00 PM and 11:00 PM. Tickets are $60-$200 and available at The Public's Box Office (425 Lafayette, NYC).



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