Show 2 of 5 of American Squatter is now done at Fresno’s Rogue Festival.
Online reviews are the way things work more and more at theatre festivals. This means that, as a performer, you no longer have to just wonder what people thought of your show, you can go online and read about it.
For example, from the Fresno Bee online:
Barry Smith’s one-man, multi-media show, “American Squatter,” is his humorous autobio that delves into “self-absorption critical mass” — and some glimmers of self-discovery. These kinds of shows can be either wonderously engaging or painfully self-indulgent. The show I saw Friday fell in between those two points. It wasn’t gut-busting hilarious, but it was entertaining and sparked its share of laughs.
Now, everyone is welcome to their opinions, of course, but I beg to differ. See, the thing is – my show IS gut-busting hilarious. The reviewer was just sitting in the wrong section to realize this, that’s all.
Because I, from my vantage point on stage, where I was busy being something between entertaining and self-indulgent, saw a gut being bust. No, not metaphorically. The man in the second row on the left actually laughed so hard at one of my self-indulgent jokes that his stomach split open and most of his small intestine spilled out. He was embarrassed, I could tell, to the point where he didn’t make a scene. He politely tucked his guts back into his stomach and held them in place for the remainder of the show, then excused himself to the restroom after I’d had glimmers of self-realization, which, predictably, comes at the end of the show.
I didn’t realize reviewers were in the audience poised to make it known to the world that my show was NOT gut-busting, otherwise – and I’m not proud of this – I would have called some attention to it.
During tomorrow’s show, I’m seriously hoping for a cerebral hemorrhage.
Ahhh…a guy can dream…