From left: Gizel Jiménez, A.J. Shively, Jordan Matthew Brown, and Angela Reed play a variety of dogs with assorted personalities in The Dog Show: Come. Sit. Stay. at the Triad Theater.
Anthropomorphism is at the center of The Dog Show: Come. Sit. Stay., David Javerbaum’s cleverly conceived work about dogs and their views of the world. Directed by Richard Israel, it’s playing at the Triad, the original home of Celebrity Autobiography. The Dog Show adopts a similar format as that hit: actors reading from scripts, mostly at stands. But it’s no less enjoyable for that: a winning cast of four helps the unflashy production breed satisfaction for its audience.
First among equals, and first overall, is A.J. Shively. In a bit of an awkward start, he announces that he’s the “producer dog” of the show. Is he a dog with human consciousness? one wonders. “You’ll hear how we feel,” he says, as he talks about “dozens of my fellow canines,” noting with a mild innuendo that they “all hope they’ll be the lucky ones I choose to share an afternoon of wrestling, chasing, and light toy play.”
As Bubbles (the wet dog), Brown talks about the tribulation of getting a bath.
The catalogue of dog types really takes off when the dogs speak their own thoughts. Squeaky-voiced Gizel Jiménez fetchingly plays a five-week-old puppy, and she has purebred canine consciousness. “I control you,” she says, “and there’s nothing you can do about it. Resistance is futile.”
The monologues vary in length, and some types of dogs are more familiar, such as ones who chase Frisbees, lead dogsleds, or have their heads outside car windows. Each monologue exists on its own terms. The ones that stick to dogdom and don’t incorporate human qualities work best.
Angela Reed, for instance, is a Seeing Eye dog named Iris whose naïveté about her owner’s companionship is charming. Her owner, Tammy, is “apparently quite well-connected, because she gets me into places most dogs wouldn’t dream of getting into. Stores, restaurants, planes, even a concert at the philharmonic one time, can you imagine?”
Reed plays the haughty, self-satisfied poodle who won top prize at the Westminster Dog Show.
Yet another of Reed’s pooches, Duchess, is far from clueless about her station in life. With transparently false modesty she describes “the Westminster Dog Show, the most prestigious dog show in the world. It’s really not that big a deal.”
Some of the dogs have more recognizable traits than others. The sled dog Snowy (Reed) talks about leadership. “I’m never not thinking about the race,” he says. “I’m more obsessed with sleds than Citizen Kane.” Shively is a lummox of a Great Dane, becoming entangled with a bar stool in a bit of well-executed physical comedy. He’s also an authoritarian German shepherd, reminding the audience that “we’re police dogs. Our job is to keep your community safe. We’re good dogs going after bad people. Bad, bad people!”
In one of the longest, most wistful, and beautifully performed excerpts, Jordan Matthew Brown, playing Gypsy, reminisces about being abandoned by his alcoholic owner. “I waited for her to come back. And waited. And waited,” he says. “What happened? Where did she go?” He describes life on the streets, and then being rescued and waiting for adoption in a shelter. The piece carries a strong undercurrent of man’s love for dogs and the affection they give back. “I think to be who I really am,” he says, “I need a leash.”
Brown also plays Bubbles in one of the funniest segments. Bubbles is getting a bath and really dislikes it. “It’s like, there’s a reason I jump in stagnant swamp water,” he says. “There’s a reason I play in compost. There’s a reason I roll in dead bugs. It’s so I smell good. Why do you not want me to smell good?”
Jiménez and Shively share a scene to wonder what it’s all about. Photographs by Jeremy Daniel.
Occasionally Javerbaum’s writing overreaches. Brown also plays a bloodhound in one of the odder segments. “I am the Great Sniffini! Behold my olfactory magic!” he declaims. Then he moves into the audience and sniffs his way around. “A man wearing Pine-Scented Speed Stick Deodorant passed you on the sidewalk last April,” he tells someone. To another he says, “Sir, you have absolutely no smell whatsoever. Can I lick you to see if you have a taste?” There’s a cameo from Lassie, who admits, “I was a real bitch.” And Breeze, described as “the dog with its head out the window,” talks about liking the moving air and ends with, “Keep driving this thing to Buenos Aires!” Now how would a dog know where or what Buenos Aires is? (Or Citizen Kane, for that matter?)
Only twice do dogs share the stage. In one sketch all four are being walked by a dog walker as they talk among themselves; in a second, Shively and Jiménez have a romantic stare at the night sky, discussing the universe and “the great Bao-Wao.”
The casts rotate in limited runs. Upcoming performers are Seth Rudetsky, Julia Murney, and Todd Cervaris. If it’s not a howlingly funny show, it’s still solidly amusing and warmhearted.
The Dog Show: Come. Sit. Stay. runs through Nov. 29 at the Triad Theater (158 W. 72nd St.). Performances are on an irregular schedule; for tickets and information, visit dogshownyc.com.
Playwright: David Javerbaum
Director: Richard Israel
Lighting Design: Zack Pizza
Sound Design: Brandon Hilfer
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