Kiki & Herb | Theater Critic's Choice | Chicago Reader

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Kiki & Herb


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Don't see Kiki & Herb unless you're fully prepared to commit. I mean, fully. Think hard. Be honest. Nobody's going to blame you if you excuse yourself now, but it'll be too late when Kiki's standing there in her sequined cocktail dress and poofy 60s hair, the microphone cord wound dangerously around her ankle, pouring herself another Canadian Club while Herb pounds on the piano and sings a muttering counterpoint to her raspy Judy Garland belts. By then you'll be mesmerized or paralyzed, screaming inwardly, knowing it's only a matter of minutes till she's on the floor, which might signal stopping time for some but not her. She'll go on singing those bizarre Edith-Piaf-meets-Cotton-Mather-in-Las-Vegas ballads, go on with the patter about how she and Herb met at a home for the retarded and would like to die but can't because they drank milk from the cow who ate Christ's placenta. And that's under normal circumstances. Given the Christmas theme of this "Traffic Jam" show, Jesus Wept, Justin Bond's Kiki and Kenny Mellman's Herb are sure to be even scarier than usual. More horrific. Grueling. Hilarious. Brilliant. Thu 12/8, 7:30 PM, Steppenwolf Theatre Company, downstairs theater, 1650 N. Halsted, 312-335-1650, $35.

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