John R. Brennan’s attempts at humor aren’t very fruitful in “The Banana Monologues,” a play he co-wrote, in which he portrays multiple characters. (Carol Rosegg)
No, “The Banana Monologues” isn’t a male rejoinder to Eve Ensler’s feminist classic. Rather, in this solo turn, John R. Brennan tells the story of an ill-fated relationship starring an organ named, in keeping with the piece’s puerile humor, “Sergeant Johnson.”
Said Johnson, a horny military type, belongs to Gus, a 30-something pharmacist involved in a long-distance relationship with the sexy and much younger Alexis. Brennan inhabits all of these roles, as well as Darby, a rival for Alexis’ affections, whom he portrays as a troll.
“Please clap if you’ve been in a complicated relationship,” Brennan implores early on, and the near-unanimous response indicates that there should be plenty here to which one can relate. Even so, this “Banana” — a mystifyingly collaborative effort by Brennan, Jason C. Cooper and Mary Cimino (it really took three to write this?) — isn’t ripe enough.
Brennan, who accurately describes himself as “a poor man’s Patrick Swayze,” is an engaging, energetic performer who gets as many laughs from his awkward, white-guy disco dancing as his one-liners. Some of the latter are genuinely funny, such as Gus’ complaint about his endless phone calls with the emotionally needy Alexis.
“I watched ‘SportsCenter’ for a year on mute,” he whines.
But the humor too often ventures into adolescent territory, especially when Sergeant Johnson asks a couple in the audience, “Sir, when was the last time you were buried in her foxhole?”
If Ensler’s “Vagina Monologues” showed that sex organs could be thoughtful and articulate, this show’s vulgar, single-minded take fulfills every woman’s worst stereotype.