Going where no one has dared to go, "Puppetry of the Penis" at the 42nd St. theatre named for the dignified John Houseman is an innocently aggressive, good-natured entertainment that would seem decadent only to the Taliban or Jerry Falwell (who gets his own ribbing).
By now, the premise must be known. A couple of blokes from Down Under manipulate their private parts in an evening subtitled "The Ancient Australian Art of Genital Origami." Entering, they look like early porn actors in their garish capes (one purple, one red), pushing the reference even further by wearing sneakers and socks they never remove.
After a comically cosmic introduction by Justin Morley, the puppeteers and creators, Simon Morley and David ("Friendy") Friend tell us their act began in Australian pubs before progressing to theatres throughout the (presumably western) world. Admonishing the audience not to expect "a stand-up comedy show," they disrobe and handmake their "installations," which are simultaneously projected on a backdrop screen.
Among the titles are "The Loch Ness Monster," "The Eiffel Tower," "The Brain," "Hot Dog," "Hamburger," and "The Olympic Flame." They also go through a catalogue of creatures--a kangaroo, mollusk, bird, bullfrog, etc.
Perhaps the jolliest moment is when a female theatergoer becomes part of the act. On the night I was there, the volunteer was cheerful and only slightly embarrassed.
The whole thing is audacious, but not sexy. Noticeably, women howl while men cross their legs, but 50 minutes of these pranks are quite enough.
Preceding the act is foul-mouthed Wendy Vousden, whose, er, cockney accent all but obscures her tedious 15-minute musings on breasts and testicles. At the evening's conclusion, Morley and Friend tout merchandise for sale in the lobby. Available are T-shirts, a video, and a "how-to" manual with a warning about trying these exercises at home.