Thursday, July 24, 2003
'Puppet' duo puts it all on display: Their, um, parts
are the stars
By KRISTIN DIZON
SEATTLE POST-INTELLIGENCER REPORTER
Since the dawn of time, one unwritten rule of history has stood: Women, thou shalt not laugh, howl
or cackle at the genitals of a man.
Until now.
Two men have systematically set out to liberate the penis
as a comedic performer. Ladies, and gentlemen, they
bring you, "Puppetry of the Penis."
They are coming to Seattle's Moore Theatre starting Aug.
5 for a two-week engagement that may be extended.
What started out as little more than a novelty act at a
comedy festival in Melbourne by Simon Morley and
David Friend has become an international phenomenon.
"For centuries, people have been told never to laugh at a
man's genitals," Friend says on the phone from Los
Angeles. "And don't show them, because it's some sort of
a power thing, and it's disgusting and rude. I think if you
walk out of our show, you'll find there's nothing disturbing about the genitals."
Maybe. Or, maybe you'll find that human male genitals are capable of things you've never imagined.
Friend and Morley have taken one of the oldest human pastimes -- playing with oneself -- and
turned it into a worldwide theater tour. There are seven touring puppetry shows to date, and 14
puppeteers.
As the affable Aussie lads like to say: "There are no puppets. There are no strings. You should all be
expecting full male frontal nudity."
If you have not yet heard about P.O.P., or wonder what penis puppeteers do, character actors they
are not. They call their performance art, "genital origami."
After shedding capes, they stretch, pull, twist, yank, squeeze and contort their pliable pink flesh into
shapes called "The Windsurfer," "The Loch Ness Monster," and the show-stopping "Sea
Anemone."
They perform about an hour's worth of such "installations," projected with extreme close-ups on an
enormous screen. And, that's about it, except for a female stand-up comedian who opens for them.
The puppeteers experience an occasional walkout and they've seen a handful of anti-nudity
protesters in the three years they've been traveling with the show.
Critics have come down all over the place on the performance. Some have been bored and
underwhelmed with its singular nature and less-than-sophisticated fare. Others have rallied around
the cheeky show precisely because it is silly, groundbreaking and completely non-sexual.
Women have been flocking to P.O.P., perhaps because we've been living in a black hole of male
frontal nudity in America. It's the very novelty of penises in public -- the dearth of them anywhere
other than in porno films or magazines, much less the focus of a stage production -- that compels us
to pay good money for a ticket to the show.
And men, says Friend, have expressed envy that others have parlayed the art of dropping trou and
contorting one's willy into a career.
Much as a Broadway singer needs an agile voice, penis puppeteers need a supple member to
perform. It's all about stretching the penis to its full elasticity.
Developing their repertoire of tricks has taken years of research for the blokes, starting at age 4 for
Friend, better known as Friendy.
"I think every boy does," Friend, 34, says.
Asked how such ordinary behavior turns into a profession, Friend replies, "Beer."
"No one ever sat down and planned to do this," he explains. "It started off as party tricks and I think
we just got encouraged to take off our pants a few times too many. And now, here we are."
Friend insists that these tricks are quite common in Australia, where "we don't mind taking our pants
off and making fun of ourselves."
P.O.P. started as the brainchild of Morley, a former tour manager for comedians. At first, he planned
an artsy calendar of puppetry poses, but eventually realized the comedic potential of a live show.
He hooked up with Friend, a computer science graduate, and they took their show across Australia in
an old VW van. P.O.P. really took off when the duo showed their goods at the 2000 Edinburgh
International Fringe Festival.
Turnout there earned them a five-week engagement in London that turned into five months. And
they've been touring ever since, selling out theaters in New York, Chicago and Los Angeles, among
other cities. The show has just opened in Spanish, and a French version is under way.
Friend says penis puppeteers aren't generally recognized on the street, or given tables at trendy,
overbooked restaurants. Nor do women throw themselves at the performers.
"There's no real groupies ... unfortunately for us," jokes Friend, who has a girlfriend.
Audience demographics and reaction run the gamut when it comes to P.O.P. Besides hysterical
laughter, audiences tend to do a lot of wincing. And they often wonder whether the puppetry is
painful, or causes permanent damage.
"We would never do it if it hurt," Friend says, though he admits that part of the equipment is
"stretchier" than before. "We like to think that any man can do it."
They also have created a DVD for home viewing, and a handbook for those who wish to learn
genital origami.
The creators don't talk about how much money they've made, but say they're getting paid "pretty
decently" for their work.
Ticket sales are going well at the Moore, a 1,400-seat theater, which is larger than most of the places
P.O.P. has played.
Asked what he might do after the show's run is done, Friend says, "Who knows? Hopefully we can
retire on an island and sit on a big bag of ice."
And if his name is forever intertwined with penis puppetry?
"There's worse things to be known as than the penis man," Friend says. |
