She's filthy as all get-out and drop-dead hilarious. I mean, really hilarious! She's dishing the type of shock and awe hilarity that has her packed-in-like-sardines audiences either howling, screaming or so shocked they're in somber silence.
Who can that be? The one, the only, the foul-mouthed, the funny comedienne Joan Rivers.
In her current stand at the Laurie Beechman Theater at the West Bank Cafe, the stand-up pro offends just about everyone but but no one really gets too offended because they're rolling on the floor in laughter.
Though Rivers, a very spry 77 and looking damn good (but, Joan, please don't do any more because your skin will be so tight, bones may pop out), is very fast on her feet, often departing from new, prepared material to wildly and hilariously ad lib with audience members. The show is probably not for anyone easily turned of by a constant drone of four and five-letter words. (It's my opinion that a good comic doesn't need four letter words to grab an audience; however, I might make an exception for Rivers. Still, without a single F-word, the show with her outrageous, caustic riffs on celebrity would likely be as funny. That's just our Joan.)
Rivers hates everyone and everything. She comes down hard on Nadya Denise Doud-Suleman Gutierrez, a.k.a. Octomom, and renamed Condomom by Rivers. But she's in good company. Nuns, priests, gays (especially lesbians), straights, tourists, relatives, Babs, Liza, Mel, Julie A, Suzanne S, TomKat, Nicole K, Rosie, and sweet, thoughtful Brooke S ("Who's she kidding? The last time she saw Michael Jackson he was black!") get bitten with venom.
Even the dead aren't spared, as Rivers ferociously lights into Michael J, Jackie O, and poor li'l, unhappy Princess Di ("What did she have to be depressed about? What was wrong with her? She was beautiful, had everything money could buy, two beautiful sons, a crown and a husband who didn't want to sleep with her!").
Since her death was trumped by the King of Pop's sudden demise, Rivers gives Farrah her due. If none of this already has you in stitches, just wait for Rivers' spin about the three so-called Wise Men, her redesign of the Nativity creche and plans to take (Blessed) Mary shopping.
Speaking of the dead or thought to be dead, Rivers shows her psychic powers during the show. She points out that Olivia NJ's former bf didn't jump in water and drown, but that he's alive and well and hiding out. Not a day later, did news reports state that he was alive and well and, like Garbo, just wanted to be alone.
For those who aren't easily offended and just want to have a damn good time, Rivers is just the tonic to life your spirits during this time of stress and uncertainty. There's no better medicine than the gift of laughter, and Rivers has spoonfuls of it.
One of the things Rivers hates most, she says, is charity, but the net proceeds of the Beechman engagement go to two of her favorite charities, God's Love/We Deliver and Guide Dogs for the Blind.
This preview of Rivers new show is a bargain, and you don't have to go to an expensive nightclub or do a casino junket. Tickets are $30, with a two-drink or food minimum (come early because dinner, from the Left Bank's excellent kitchen, is served), and available at www.sincyclenyc.com or by calling (212) 352-3101. Pianist Lance Cruce entertains until Rivers takes the stage.
