As I walked out of the Orpheum Theater in Minneapolis last night I tried to imagine myself writing a review of Blue Man Group, which was spectacular, really. What would I call it?
Mime mixed with drumming with techno with slapstick with dazzling light display with irony with humor with five-foot beach ball batting in the audience? That might begin to cover it. And then there were the jokes about regurgitation and paint in the face that felt like Saturday morning cartoons when I was a kid. And not to forget the lengthy bit that involved Twinkies. All of this performed by men totally covered in some kind of electric blue latex. Oh, and did a mention none of them ever uttered a word during the ninety-minute performance?
Now if I can figure out a way to use Blue Man Group in my mystery.