That’s part of the show’s premise—3 guys with (not so) silver-screen-ready scripts arguing over whose yarn deserves accolades. Yet, I felt like the collective, fake dysfunction extended beyond the stage, turning what should have been an ensemble into 3 concurrent one-man shows. Disappointing, considering it started with a bang as Jack, Matt, and James donned wigs and Regency Period garb to parody Jane Austen and Charlie’s Angels using Barbie Dolls. That was funny.
Either way, halfway through, I looked right and noticed my neighbor’s head hanging heavy over her shoulder, eyes downward. I wondered if she was asleep. I wasn’t sure, but I knew I wanted to be.