Andrew Goffman is an appealing and assured performer, but his standup-comic roots are showing as a writer. The title is the best thing about this hybrid look at one boy's addiction to pornography. Unfortunately, the dichotomy between club delivery and drama leads to a serious disconnect between Goffman and his audience.
His narrative is narrowly autobiographical: At age 11 he discovers his father's stash of X-rated videos and girlie magazines. The youngster is hooked immediately, affecting his attitude toward sex and women at least until his marriage and fatherhood, he says. But unless we knew Goffman from before, or have experienced the identical situation ourselves, it's hard for us to relate. Unlike most addiction confessionals, this one seems to have little at stake. Goffman wastes several hours daily watching porn, but we never sense just what is in jeopardy besides time. His habit doesn't prevent him from paying the rent, making friends, getting into college and staying there, or being married and having a child. No one else is hurt by his addiction, it seems, and he never confronted his father about the stash. There's no drama here, only recounting.
The most interesting thing about Goffman's initial experience is its timing, at the beginning of the widespread use of home videotape machines in the early 1980s. He should have made much more out of this contextual clash: While other people were learning new subjects, catching up on old movies, armchair traveling, or preserving family memories, he was stuck in this senseless usage of a VCR. That sort of broader sweep is missing here. Director Charles Messina has given Goffman his way on stage movement, but inserting tapes and showing clips from period porno films is not enough action to distract us from the otherwise standup delivery.
Presented by Blue Ball Productions in association with Gina Ferranti
at the Triad Theater, 158 W. 72nd St., NYC.
Feb. 2-24. Thu. and Fri., 7 p.m.
(212) 868-4444.