There’s a similar alchemy underway in director Jeremy Aluma’s fantastic Four Clowns. Rowdy, irreverent, totally inappropriate, slightly dangerous, and very funny, the titular madcaps — wonderfully individual performances unleashed with fine ensemble precision by Alexis Jones, Turner Munch (u/s), Raymond Lee, and Amir Levi — take their unsuspecting audience through the phases of life, dwelling on all its hideous temporal suffering with a macabre glee, accompanied by the fancy piano work of Mario Granville. Morbid curiosity, however, proves an invigorating tonic, beating back despair with fierce gallows humor as only a crazed ejaculating demon clown can.

– Robert Avila

I closed the evening with Four Clowns, in town from Los Angeles.

These clowns are tight. Really, really talented. The material is bawdy, physical and over the top. (Except that of the pianist. He’s simply awesome. And self-taught. And handsome.) It pushes the limits (these are NOT clowns for children), but stops short of bludgeoning the audience with vulgarity. Bob deemed it in the top five Fringe shows ever. I want to see it again, because they really are amazing to watch, and I’m interested in how much of the show is improvised. Audience participation warning – you won’t be pulled on stage, but those sitting on the aisle or in the front row might have some clown interaction. Or, if you don’t fully understand when audience participation and commentary is appropriate and when you could just as easily shut up, that might bring increased clown attention. Scream random things at random times at your own risk.

– Kate Hoff

You never know if clowns are going to give you a balloon or kill somebody. Jeremy Aluma uses that in his favor in this sketch comedy conception of the stages of man. Developed through improvisation, Four Clowns looks at childhood, adolescence and adulthood through the childish squeaks, bawdy gyrations and intermittent violence of four performers wearing thick white make-up and red ball noses.

I didn’t learn anything new about life (e.g., big brothers can be unrelenting bullies), but I was reminded that some performers can make simple concepts fascinating through practiced physical and vocal prowess and a truckload of commitment. Clowns Alexis Jones, Kevin Klein, Raymond Lee and Amir Levi and pianist Mario Granville beguiled me with humor tender and blue, scripted and improvised, for at least 60 of Four Clown’s 90 minutes. I hope this LA troupe returns with their Four Clowns: Romeo and Juliet.

– Josefa Beyer

One of the hits of last year’s Los Angeles Fringe Festival was a production, Four Clowns, conceived and written by Jeremy Aluma. The show won the Hollywood Fringe Award Best Physical Theatre. I am used to seeing some clowning at almost any Sacred Fools presentation but where Aluma found these four actors, Alexis Jones (Sad Clown), Kevin Kline (Mischievous Clown), Raymond Lee (Angry Clown), and Amir Levi (Nervous Clown) is a tribute to him and his dedication to the Art of Clowning. Apparently there are several clown schools as such in the Southland as well as master teachers in Commedia del Arte. These are some of the best clowns I have seen around, including clowns with the Cirque du Soleil.

The performance is really a series of sketches about the modern family and today’s society. We see kids abused, used, and beaten all the while trying to hold the family together. The housewife whose kids and husband are out of control, the teacher who molests his students, siblings trying to suppress each other. They do all this with immense good humor and an ability to throw care to the wind and jump into these sadistic routines with relish. Because they are clowns we can accept their antics but don’t bring the little kids, violence and profanity prevail. The whole affair has the appearance of improv, with clowns being assigned their parts for the various routines, I wonder is today’s abuser ever gets to play the victim although the actors stay pretty true to their character type. The physical mastery of these four actors is a joy to watch. Not everything works but that may vary with each night’s audience.

After Los Angeles the troupe is traveling to the Minnesota Fringe and the San Francisco Fringe where I am sure they will do well. Then, they return to the Los Angeles to present Romeo and Juliet through the eyes of these four clowns; should be brutal and quite funny. A virtuoso of a pianist, Mario Granville, who played Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue before the show began as well as some Scott Joplin, accompanies them throughout the evening. It will be interesting to see how they do having to follow a story line. GO!

– Robert Machray

What starts out as a playful show with and about Four Clowns, ends up being a tiny masterpiece about the obscenities and atrocities of humanity. It’s not without joy, though, as there is much physical comedy with tumbles and pratfalls, but the emphasis seems to veer in the direction of violence and crude behavior. Its mission is clearly to make a life-affirming statement. As children play and start to hit one another innocently, a simple slap turns into a slug or punch and that punch encompasses bullying and abuse of others; aggression in its earliest stages can lead to all-out hostility and war. And it does with chaotic consequences. Like a caricature of life, Four Clowns leaves an indelible impression.

Sad Clown (Alexis Jones), Angry Clown (Raymond Lee), Mischievous Clown (Kevin Klein) and Nervous Clown (Amir Levi) are a frolicking foursome who come into the audience on a few occasions and get your reaction irregardless of whether you are a willing participant. It all starts at the beginning of Clown Creation with a series of rapid-fire sketches. One clown assigns the others roles, and kind of like a giant improv, each skit rolls forward with lots of energy, laughs and unexpected endings. Siblings opening Christmas presents, a single mom trying to control her children, a teacher trying to teach a student, a basketball game, doctor and patient, therapist and patients, a courtroom, a wife, her husband and his lover, etc. There are even a few original songs about being “Children”, the pains of “Adulthood”. Throughout, the piece reverberates with the ever-present torture that people inflict on one another, the kind that leads to armies and war. And…the show has its fair share of overtly sexual acts like masturbation and f—ing, so this is definitely adult fare, perfect for late night enjoyment.

Pianist Mario Granville is superb. He plays before the curtain goes up – and I mean, really plays, like Gershwin’s “Rhapsody in Blue” – and provides complete musical accompaniment, punctuating the clowns’ every move, throughout the show. Jeremy Aluma’s direction, to say the least, is nothing short of brilliant, like the piece itself.

The four actors are equally mesmerizing, each clown consistently maintaining his very own character trait – sad, angry, mischievous, nervous. Physically agile, intelligent, imaginative and clever, Four Clowns is a 90-minute non-stop explosion. Always observant and with razor-sharp wit, its form and exposition are totally unique and its content, an irreverent mirror of human nature.

– Don Grigware

EDITOR’S PICK

Four Clowns gives freaky Freudian insight into each of us. These clowns are the filthiest, bawdiest, and the most emotionally unbridled freaks you’ll ever meet. Loaded with Tesla-coil amperage, the sad, mischievous, angry, and nervous clowns work hard dancing, leaping, moving, thumping, and grinding. The performers’ powerful physicality is joyous to watch, conveying a great deal of humor and mayhem. After they tell you about their childhood, adolescence, and finally, adulthood, you’ll be ready to go back to your own past — maybe even as a clown.

– Kenneth Hughes

Which leads to an equally serious question: Why isn’t laughter enough?

Jeremy Aluma, the budding genius who conceived the piece in collaboration with his four wonderfully nutty cohorts – Kevin Klein (Mischievous Clown), Amir Levi (Nervous Clown), Raymond Lee (Angry Clown), and Alexis Jones (Sad Clown) – and his extraordinarily talented pianist/musical director Mario Granville (whose biography could use a show of its own), has driven up the stakes by creating not a Hellzapoppin or a Laugh-In, but a sour study of what’s wrong with the world and how comedy just possibly might help us survive its worst transgressions. Admittedly, I am quite a bit older than their targeted demographic, but the serious stuff, partly written, largely improvised, seemed to this reviewer to get labored and repetitive and to run out of steam before its two hours came to an end, and yet I couldn’t stop laughing for a single minute. In the end, it was the clowning that got to me, and just thinking about some of their shenanigans puts a smile on my face.

Laughter is enough.

– Harvey Perr

Do not hire these clowns for your child’s birthday party. In fact, do not allow these clowns near ANY children. EVER. These four clowns embody the worst elements of humanity and force the audience to look directly at them, unflinchingly, for an hour and a half. It is disturbing, uncomfortable, intense and hilariously funny.

At 11pm on a Friday night leading into a three-day weekend, the Sacred Fools Theater is packed with twenty-something hipsters. Booze in hand, they are chatting loudly about their own projects, plays in the making and bands being formed. The buzz of conversation is heavy competition for the boisterous tunes coming from the piano player (Mario Granville) who’s been playing for tips on stage since folks walked through the door. These are wide-eyed intellectuals, amped to solve the world’s problems through their art. And then come the clowns.

As the Voice of God booms through the theater, setting the scene in twisted rhyme, the clowns assemble center stage to introduce the audience (though rambunctious song) to what will be the first of three acts: Childhood. This set-up will be repeated for Adolescence and Adulthood as the evening progresses. They periodically announce series of tragedies that have befallen their lives to foreshadow scenes that will later arise. These are scenes of abuse of every sort, and of hatred, sex, murder, drug use and suicide. Occasionally, a clown will find himself in a tender moment more sweet and real than any of the harshness witnessed in the evening…but even this is cringe-worthy because there is no expectation for it to end in anything other than horror.

Providing structure within the chaos, the clowns are color-coded with defining character traits reminiscent of Commedia dell’arte. The traits become a bit inconsistent as the show goes on, however. The Nervous Clown (Amir Levi), in particular, doesn’t seem to hold on to his nervousness after Childhood – although the work that he does, trait notwithstanding, is some of the most impressive in the group. His characters are often manic, but they vary wildly and believably between sex fiends and innocents. The entire cast is immensely talented and are every bit as entertaining with their vocal skills as they are with physical comedy. The Sad Clown (Alexis Jones) is quieter and more childlike throughout the show, resulting in an even more twisted performance. Ms. Jones’s character is haunting; she is the one who will follow you home when the show is over. The Angry Clown (Raymond Lee) does some amazing things with movement and facial expressions, at one point completely overcoming his garish make-up to sweetly embody a young boy in love. The Mischievous Clown (Kevin Klein) excels at playing various abusers without making them all feel like the same character.

Did I mention it was funny? No, really, it is. Despite (and maybe because of) the heavy nature of the material, you will belly laugh at the jokes, the physical humor and the absurdity of it all. The clowns will force you to laugh at the worst things in society, the worst things in yourself and your history. It’s brutal catharsis. The bottom line is if you don’t shy away from vulgar comedy and you enjoy confrontational theater, this show is handmade for you.

– Susan Burns

Four Clowns is probably the sweatiest play I have ever seen. The four young actors in it expend more energy in an evening than most actors expend in their entire career. It is also almost dystopian in its view of the human condition, contains a lot of buggary and is hysterically funny. Be prepared to be confounded, to be embarrassed, to recognize your own life and the life around you, to be presented with every possible pain and petty evil the world can heap upon humanity, and to laugh. A lot.

Told though a series of vignettes with improvised bits between them to move from one to the next, four clowns, the Sad Clown, the Angry Clown, the Mischievous Clown and the Nervous Clown, move through the terrors and tragedies of childhood, adolescence, adulthood and death. Along the way, they stop at young love, young lust, child abuse, parental favoritism, filial hatred, the abuse of power, alcoholism, drug abuse, war, the abuse of law and almost any other kind of abuse you can think of, the whips and scorns of time, the oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely, the pangs of disprized love, the law’s delay, the insolence of office, and a couple of bare bodkins. There is even sweetness, although you know as soon as you see it, it will be dashed asunder somehow.

The evening begins with Mario Granville, a very accomplished piano player, entertaining us as we enter the theatre and chat amongst ourselves. He then heroically accompanies almost every moment of the show itself, occasionally suffering abuse at the hands of one or more of the clowns. After the lights dim, a commanding voice echos from the sound system and, in a twisted Dr. Seuss-like verse, sets the stage. Then the clowns gather in a kind of kick-line and sing a song extolling the joys of childhood, which include, incongruously, boobies.

There is much audience participation (bordering, at times, on audience abuse) but there are several through lines of stories; the dysfunctional family with a crazy mother who hates her daughter, the young man who worships his older brother who is really, really, really mean to him, the man who enters and makes his way through marriage and the corporate life of a working stiff, etc.

There is some inconsistency in the show; although the Mischievous Clown and the Sad Clown remain pretty much mischievous and sad throughout, the Angry Clown and the Nervous Clown leave behind their archetypes more often than not, but that is a minor objection. Also, some of the improv aspects where pieces of a vignette are suggested by the audience don’t always work, although on the night I saw the show, the cure for the suggested disease “imploded penis” was nothing less than brilliant.

Each clown has his own trait and his own color, represented by his costume, his handkerchief, his makeup and any prop he pulls out of the community chest.

Each of the four actors brings a different energy to the piece, and they all add up to a very complete whole. They are all physically and comedically accomplished and their combined effort works surprisingly well. Kevin Klein plays the Mischievous Clown, all in purple. He plays the put-upon husband of the abusive mother, the abusive older brother, the young husband/corporate drone and several others, each with its own distinct form of dysfunction.

Alexis Jones is the Sad Clown, all in blue, appropriately, who is subtler than the others, quieter and not quite as manic, but what she brings to the whole is delightfully twisted. Her casual asides to a chosen audience member throughout the evening built to an hysterical crescendo. Raymond Lee is the Angry Clown, all in red. He has some amazing physical moments, both broad and subtle, and the genuinely sweet scene depicting new, young love is as charming as it is funny in it’s truth. Amir Levi is, perhaps, the most varied in his bits, the yellow Nervous Clown, he seems at times almost dangerous and the intensity and perfection of his comic timing wear you out from laughing.

The costumes, not mere clown suits but brightly ragged and appropriately surreal, were created by Cat Elrod. Special mention must be given to prop master Natalie Rich Miller, who had to find (or make) all those primary-colored props. The makeup, with each clown face subtly different from the rest, was by Amy Kubiak. It might be wise, however, to find a more robust brand in future as much of Ms. Kubiak’s artwork was sweated off twenty minutes into the show. The lighting design, which was simple and very effective, was by John Sylvain.

Jeremy Aluma developed and directed the show, which started at last year’s Hollywood Fringe Festival, was reprised recently in Long Beach and is about to embark on a tour of Fringe Festivals around the country. He brings to it a singular, if dark, vision and the broad and subtle, slapstick and intellectual, satirical and sophomoric humor evident throughout show his talent and versatility of thought.

– Geoff Hoff

The four clowns who give Four Clowns its title are, separately and together, the most hilariously funny quartet you are likely to spend time with in one theater. And, boy, are they eager to share their sense of fun with you, the audience. This kind of joyous give-and-take spreads pandemonium and pleasure and it’s so contagious you might not even notice that, behind the beautifully painted masks which hide (but not completely) their handsome faces, they have a deeply serious agenda. They want to give us, from a clown’s point of view, bristling commentary on the four ages of man (and four stages of death contained therein).

Which leads to an equally serious question: Why isn’t laughter enough?

Jeremy Aluma, the budding genius who conceived the piece in collaboration with his four wonderfully nutty cohorts – Kevin Klein (Mischievous Clown), Amir Levi (Nervous Clown), Raymond Lee (Angry Clown), and Alexis Jones (Sad Clown) – and his extraordinarily talented pianist/musical director Mario Granville (whose biography could use a show of its own), has driven up the stakes by creating not a Hellzapoppin or a Laugh-In, but a sour study of what’s wrong with the world and how comedy just possibly might help us survive its worst transgressions. Admittedly, I am quite a bit older than their targeted demographic, but the serious stuff, partly written, largely improvised, seemed to this reviewer to get labored and repetitive and to run out of steam before its two hours came to an end, and yet I couldn’t stop laughing for a single minute. In the end, it was the clowning that got to me, and just thinking about some of their shenanigans puts a smile on my face.

Laughter is enough.

– Harvey Perr

It’s in your face comedy—like having a clown’s boutonnière squirt water in your face. This strangely dark and disturbing journey through the uglier aspects of humanity contrasts against the lighthearted antics of four clowns inevitably becoming human through a trial by fire. What holds their red noses to the flame is the nefarious desires such as molestation and natural instincts like sibling rivalry taken to a sadistic level of torture and humiliation. Also among these less than virtuous experiences are issues surrounding abandonment, debauchery, murder and schadenfreude—the delicious delight in someone else’s pain or misfortune.

It’s said that dying is easy, but comedy is hard. These four clowns representing the various archetypes of the fool: Sad Clown (Alexis Jones); Mischievous Clown (Kevin Klein); Angry Clown (Raymond Lee) and Nervous Clown (Amir Levi) make clowning around look easy, but being human is harder than a face painted smile. Conceived and directed by Jeremy Aluma, the subject matter is so outrageously shocking that juxtaposed against the improvisational hijinks and physical comedy the overall effect is both stultifying and stimulating. It works in spite of its overly thin if not superficial premise and enjoyed critical success and rave reviews in last year’s Hollywood Fringe Festival (winning an award for Best Physical Theater).

Where the concept fails is in the untenable length of virtually the same gags replayed until the shock and awe, along with the humor wears off. This may be a case of what works well in the Fringe does not do nearly as well in a standalone production. There’s not much new here other than additional material and the upbeat jingles by talented pianist, Mario Granville whose impressive bio is as distinctive as his deft ability over the keys. The horrors of humanity simply cannot withstand over 90 minutes of the same shtick-one-trick pony song and dance show.

Besides the clownish characters and costumes, cutely expressed with color and different ties by Cat Elrod and some cynically funny songs such as “When You’re A Child,” “Cancer, Dying Babies, Dying Dogs…” and the succinct “You’re Born Then You Die” musical vignettes, the show lacks theatrical meat on its bones. In the spirit of late-night shows of the “Crack Whore Galore” variety, this production is best seen after a couple of cocktails and then you’ll probably want to have a couple more after just to combat the comic hangover.

The four ring circus clowns are not of the usual trope and each actor brings their own special talents to the roles. Jones, the only female performer of the group does an excellent job of balancing the frenetic energy between her cast mates without becoming overshadowed. Levi garners empathy with his sweet, sly and sickly sexual innuendos. Lee is a lightning rod of energy and nimbleness with bouts of furious rage followed by feeling regret. Klein shows off his physical talents ala Jim Carrey and commands the stage throughout.

Between the scenes spun about in a frenzied improvisational game of role-play, the clowns interact and engage the audience in a very charming way. Woe to anyone who slinks in late as you will become part of the show. There are also additional bits and gags forced in. There is a sense of trying to stuff more in this clown car vehicle than it can really fit in. And mind you, there is no intermission.

Later this summer, Four Clowns is taking their act on the road to the Minnesota Fringe Festival and the San Francisco Fringe Festival.

If you’re looking for an offbeat, wickedly funny and extremely adult oriented brand of comedy then this is definitely up your alley. It’ll have you laughing at the most inappropriate situations and squirming in your seat. The issues dealt with here are the kind that most people have trouble smiling about and yet, you probably will. Sick huh? But this is one sick puppy of a show.

– M.R. Hunter

If you thought Sasha Baron Cohen’s films “Borat” and “Bruno” were funny, then you might like Four Clowns. What the controversial comic and these four clowns have in common is a taste for the tasteless, for humor that pushes the boundaries so far out that you probably shouldn’t be laughing, but because the humor is so infectious, you can’t help but laugh. These guys don’t just use foul language to great effect, they simulate sexual acts that are crude and violent, as well as many other non-sexual violent acts. With humor so dark, Four Clowns can only be shown late at night to adult-only audiences. The late-night crowd at Sacred Fools, however, is not your typical theatre-going audience. They’re a young, hip and lively audience, hungry for all of the outrageous antics that these clowns can dish out.

Four Clowns is conceived and directed by Jeremy Aluma. There is no ‘writer’ in the traditional sense, since “Four Clowns” is a somewhat improvised affair. The clowns have definite personas – sad (Alexis Jones), angry (Raymond Lee), nervous (Amir Levi) and mischievous (Kevin Klein) – but even these are sometimes set aside during the skits they perform. A basic narrative structure is provided by the three progressive stages of life portrayed by the clowns: childhood, adolescence and adulthood. Song introduce each stage of life, which contain an array of singing styles, from unison to harmony to solo. Typically, each clown sings a verse alone and all sing the refrain. As the song lyrics cannot be completely improvised, they contain some of the cleverest comedy in the show.

While the four clowns all come onto the stage initially wearing jackets, along with ties, suspenders, saddle shoes and the requisite clown make-up, throughout the remainder of the play, only one clown at a time wears his or her jacket. Wearing a jacket signifies being in charge of the action. Therefore, at the conclusion of each song and skit, Mario Granville (pianist and musical director) signals the transition by playing a bell-like jingle. One of the clowns then dons his or her jacket and assigns roles to the others. Most of the skits are centered around family life, so roles typically include father, mother and brother, occasionally expanding to include teacher, waiter and girlfriend. In one early skit, the nervous clown is sexually molested by his teacher, played by the mischievous clown, during his first day of class. And this is no isolated instance of the clowns’ disturbing humor. Some of the most notorious skits are reserved for adolescence. In one domestic dinner-time scene, the sad clown is left hungry because her mother accuses her of being fat and so refuses to feed her. Or in a dating scene, the angry clown’s girlfriend, played by the sad clown, is ready to have sex at the drop of a hat, and not just with her date. By the very outrageousness, these skits expose society’s ills, decay and pretensions. In a daring display of irony, the clowns’ very masks serve to unmask and to act as a mirror, forcing us to confront our own sex-and-violence-obsessed culture. When we laugh, we are ultimately laughing at ourselves.

Alexis Jones, Kevin Klein, Raymond Lee and Amir Levi are an immensely talented ensemble. As mentioned, they can act, they can sing, they can dance and they can clown around like nobody’s business. They’re fearless, putting their whole souls into performances that are manage to be both profoundly provocative and side-splittingly funny. It’s obvious that the four clowns enjoy putting on the show. IAlexis Jones tried desperately hard to suppress her laughter at times. The mischievous clown certainly got carried away with his violent antics, as did the nervous clown, with his forays into the audience. Part of the fun for them, to be sure, is to see how their audience will react and if they can become involved and implicated in the show’s story. Multiple times throughout the evening clowns asked for suggestions from the audience, ranging from how to punish one of the others to what kind of sport they should play.

When a new audience member arrived halfway through the performance, all of the clowns stopped their skit and berated him for his tardiness. And one cannot neglect to praise Mario Granville, whose piano playing and musical direction provides momentum and texture to the performance as a whole, not to mention providing incidental music between the skits and accompaniment to the songs. “Four Clowns” is not for those who like polite, family-friendly entertainment, but for those who like to be alternately outraged and amused, there can be no better way to spend Friday night.

– Barnaby Hughes

GO!

Creator-director Jeremy Aluma’s performance piece made quite a splash during its run at last year’s Hollywood Fringe Festival. This latest incarnation, with some noticeable tinkering, is every bit as entertaining. The play blends music, dance, physical comedy and narrative performed by four archetypal clowns cum red noses and painted faces: Sad Clown (Alexis Jones), Mischievous Clown (Kevin Klein), Angry Clown (Raymond Lee) and Nervous Clown (Amir Levi). Accompanied by the commanding virtuosity of Mario Granville on piano, the clowns tell of the common and uncommon: nasty fights with siblings; a trip to the doctor that resulted in molestation, teenage angst, that special event known as a first date; a mom at home trying to cope with family issues. There is a lot of audience interaction that transpires, which adds to the fun. In one especially poignant moment, Lee opens a steamer chest (which is the only prop used) and finds a Christmas gift. What surprises most about this show is the ease and spontaneity with which the performers interact with one another and their manic energy, which at times seems to take over the stage. There is a fair amount of coarse language and X-rated material (not all of which is funny) so this isn’t a show for the kiddies.

– Lovell Estell III

Much can be said about Four Clowns, conceived and directed by Jeremy Aluma. It’s award-winning, has a national fringe tour behind it, and hits near-sellout status with every performance done. It can even be said that it’s never the exact same show twice (as part of it is improvised), which makes it brilliant.

Four Clowns tells a story that we have seen many different ways, but most certainly with a twist. It takes you on a physical and emotional journey of the human life, all the while playing off of the age-old wives tale that “Laughter is the best medicine.” It takes you through the universal struggles and flight all humans go through in their life cycle, from childhood through adulthood.

The greatest achievement of Four Clowns is that is brings together great chemistry between the four central characters. Kevin Klein (Mischievous Clown), Raymond Lee (Angry Clown), and Amir Levi (Nervous Clown) complement each other very nicely, especially when you add Sad Clown (played by the boisterous Alexis Jones). Jones steals just a little bit of thunder from her co-stars by the way she interacts with the audience to keep her persona going. She’s not to be outdone by Levi’s Nervous clown who also is very audience-energetic at times. One of the ways they demonstrate the chemistry is the hilarious, not-soon-to-be forgotten lyrics of original songs they use as transitions as they “phase” into the next part of life.

Normally taboo subjects that are presented in “Four Clowns” get tackled in a way that even the tough would appreciate. Gratuitous sexual situations, suicide/depression, objectionable language, and even self-gratification are addressed in such a laugh riot, that it works. Even things that the arts community normally steers clear of, such as complete audience interaction, no blackouts, and live music, would be given two thumbs up by the toughest of the tough.

The only weakness in the show is perhaps one that has been overlooked by all: They are clowns. In America, eight percent of Americans have a phobia of clowns. That’s too bad, because with a show like “Four Clowns,” people who see it might just put their fear aside. With five fringe festivals and a national tour behind them, and another national tour fast approaching in 2012, Four Clowns is something not to be missed. Aluma, with his stylish directing capability, has been bringing great twists and stage on modern day contemporary pieces (“Sister Mary Ignatius Explains It All To You,” “The Last Days of Judas Iscariot,” and “In Arabia We’d All Be Kings,”) for years to the Greater Los Angeles area. Is it any wonder that an original would be just as superb?

– Kenne Guillory

Clowns: More lighthearted than a unicorn, more frightening than the Chupacabra, they have the uncanny ability to both delight audiences and make them want to hide under their beds. While many label all clowns as uniformly and unquestionably creepy (this is perhaps the reason why no one took up my offer of a free guest ticket), the more discerning individual sees beyond the red nose and white face paint. At their essence, clowns navigate the tempestuous seas of human emotion, from ecstasy to depression, from deceit to belief.

Four Clowns, a performance piece conceived and directed by Jeremy Aluma, perfectly understands this basic characteristic of the clown. During the roughly 90-minute production, staged at the Sacred Fools Theater in Los Angeles, the audience follows four archetypal clowns representing anger, anxiety, sadness and mischief on their journey from childhood to death.

Structurally, Four Clowns is very easy to unpack. A musical number in which each cast member takes a solo introduces each phase of life. Four short dramatic vignettes follow, each scene focusing on a particular clown. Improvisation, audience involvement and physical gags break up the story line’s action, especially when clowns are preparing for their next scene. The predictable structure facilitates audience understanding of the narrative and fortunately does little to detract from the spontaneous and highly unpredictable contents of the show.

The musical numbers, perhaps, are the only exception to this rule. The cast sings well, and the lyrics are thematically meaningful as well as hilariously ribald. However, the songs’ verse-chorus structure lags in comedic pace when compared to the roller coaster of action and emotion in the acted scenes and improvised sketches.

As far as subject matter goes, Four Clowns is actually pretty depressing. Physically abusive brothers, sexually abusive teachers and psychologically abusive parents traumatize the clowns in childhood. Awkwardness and bullying mar their adolescence. Depression and disappointment close off their adult lives as they resign themselves to the last musical number’s chorus of “You’re born and then you die.”

Thankfully, the show never becomes a pity party. On the contrary, the loud, raunchy and violent tenets of clowning rarely allow the circumstances to take themselves seriously. A mother giving her daughter nothing but diet pills to eat is monstrous. A soldier who slaughters his own compatriots is shameful. Drug addiction and murder are deplorable. And yet the most resonant measure of social acceptability – laughter – indicates that the audience embraces the way that Four Clowns depicts these tragedies.

To their credit, Alexis Jones, Kevin Klein, Raymond Lee and Amir Levi are superb in their respective roles as Sad, Mischievous, Angry and Nervous clowns. No one actor plays the diva: They share the stage equally and command the audience’s attention. The on-stage pianist, Mario Granville, complements the quartet in their antics with great attention as almost all of his music is improvised to match the clowns’ unpredictable movements.

While the show is funny and fulfilling, any theatergoers need to understand that, despite the music and its fine dramatics, Four Clowns is still a clown show. It is loud, violent and vulgar. Pantomimes of fellatio, sodomy and hand jobs are almost too numerous to count. Profanity litters the actors’ lexicon. At times, the brassy content overwhelms the audience’s connection to the story. For the most part, however, it alleviates tension and makes the clowns’ plights more digestible.

Aluma truly has a winner in his hands with Four Clowns. The actors’ intense actions help them portray a wide breadth of emotions. And while the mostly harmless show might not appeal to all, there certainly is no need for Angelenos to hide under their beds.

– Daniel Boden

With the Final Four of the NCAA Men’s Basketball Tournament upon the nation, eyes are affixed on these final two pairs. Another season will end, and likewise, other begins (Play Ball!). At the Long Beach Playhouse, in collaboration with Alive Theatre and Southern California Director, Jeremy Aluma (who is CSU Long Beach alum), four is also the magic number.

An omniscient disembodied voice informed the audience of Four Clowns that before there were people, there were four archetypal clowns: Sad, Angry, Mischievous, and Nervous. Originally performed at the 2010 Hollywood Fringe Festival, this award-winning physical, musical, and emotional journey continued in the Studio Theatre of Long Beach Playhouse, revving its engines for a limited-engagement touring run through this fall.

Much of what audiences enjoyed at the Art Works Theatre was still intact in this remount. Alexis Jones filled the blue shoes of the Sad Clown and Amir Levi wiped his nervous brow with the yellow suit. Kevin Klein stayed with the team as well, but was recast as the Mischievous Clown, giving newcomer Raymond Lee the opportunity to fill the murderous red suit of the Angry Clown. Playhouse house musician Mario Max Granville was tapped in to accompany these brutally honest clowns, and it was well received by those who had seen original accompanist Ellen Warkentine last summer.

Clowns are often stereotyped as creepy, scary, and outlandishly annoying, but Aluma’s Four Horsemen of the Dramacalypse sing, dance, and fight their way through the four stages of life: childhood, adolescence, adulthood, and death. The versatility of each of these four performers is astonishing, portraying older and younger siblings, nurturing and abusive parents, clients, colleagues, and victims. Differences between this remount and the original run are negligible, because Aluma’s structure of the piece (which he also conceived in addition to directed) is uncomplicated and easy to follow, but there are still aspects of improvisation apparent in audience interaction. One woman became Sad Clown’s confidant throughout the evening, and a couple elsewhere in the house was Nervous Clown’s object of awkward affection.

It isn’t surprising that Aluma’s production was nominated at last year’s Fringe Festival for Best World Premiere and Most Outrageous Theatre; or that it won for Best Physical Theatre. A few more lucky houses will get to enjoy this masterful work when Four Clowns travels to the Minnesota Fringe Festival in August, and the San Francisco Fringe Festival in September. Fortunately, there is one more Southern California engagement before they pack their trunks and hit the road, at the Sacred Fools Theatre Company May 13-June 10 for late night performances every Friday at 11pm.

– Marlon Deleon

While Mona Lisa’s and Mad Hatter’s, sons of bankers, sons of lawyers, turn around and say “good morning” to the night, for unless they see the light, but they can’t and that is why, they know not if it’s dark outside or light.”

Watching Alive Theatre’s production of Four Clowns at the Long Beach Playhouse last weekend, I was reminded of these sublime song lyrics from Elton John and Bernie Taupin’s masterpiece of pop, “Mona Lisa’s and Mad Hatters”. Why? Because of the incredible collision of light and darkness that “Four Clowns” illustrates and how that collision does so well to embody humanity in all its flaws and all its foibles.

This was the second time I’d seen this show, the first being last year’s Fringe Festival, and I’m happy to say that the show continues to grow. For the better. I’m also happy to say that this piece, conceived and directed by Jeremy Aluma, and performed with total commitment and absolute brilliance by Alexis Jones as Sad Clown, Kevin Klein as Mischievous Clown, Raymond Lee as Angry Clown and Amir Levi as Nervous Clown, with live piano accompaniment from Mario Granville (a show unto himself), is a further testament to how good LA Theatre is, and how good it can be. Because this piece of living theatre does not yet seem finished to me. And I find that to be a good thing. For all its entertainment value – and there is plenty – the show still lacks two things, in my opinion, a clear narrative through line, and, well, hope.

Now when it comes to the former lack, I’m aware that “clown shows” often lack a clear narrative, allowing for a more scattershot, fluid rhythm within a loose structure. It’s the nature of clowning, really. The show, however, does not lack structure. It uses the four stages of life, childhood, adolescence, adulthood, and death, and then plays scenes within each of those stages, exploring the many intricacies of each stage. And it does this successfully. There are glimmers of a recognizable narrative, something that seems to have definitely been worked on in the interim from the Fringe to this production. There are family characters who appear and re-appear at different stages of their life, and there is some “growth” in those characters and in their relationships to each other. But it’s nothing that we can hang our hat on. There is no setup, build and payoff. And again, let me emphasize, as is, the show works. Its hybrid tone of combining improv and structured set pieces within its loose structure is a wonder to watch, and the show never lacks in entertainment. Nevertheless, although there are moments of poignancy here and there, there are not enough for me. There is not enough yet for me to emotionally invest in these clowns, and the stakes never really rise in a satisfying way. I remember seeing Bill Irwin and David Shiner’s “Fool Moon” years ago on Broadway and I was left with a similar feeling; astounded by the skill and entertainment, thoroughly entertained, but wanting to be moved more, wanting something to invest my emotions in, wanting. Now on the latter lack, the show’s lack of hope, this is simply a personal aesthetic of mine. I recognize that fully.

There’s no getting around the fact that “Four Clowns” is bleak. Bleaker than Bleak, really. Black, actually. Pitch black. Again, I understand that this is another fundamental of the clown archetype, a single figure standing tall in the face of tragedy, not fully aware of why or how, allowing us the audience the opportunity to laugh at his absurd attempts to survive and give meaning to his life. This quality “Four Clowns” has in spades. But what it lacks, is hope. Again, there has been some development in this area, as the four clowns seem to find some humanity in themselves in the end. This is exemplified by their removal of their clown noses at the end. But this doesn’t have the affect that it should. To put it mildly, I don’t care, because I didn’t know that’s what they were striving for, humanity. Maybe they didn’t either? Again, the lack of a clear narrative through line rears its ugly face. But the bleakness of the piece, now that’s another matter altogether. Clearly, this is a choice, and to be fair it is a strong and consistent unrelenting choice. In that vein, it succeeds: life is hard and all we can do is really survive. Fine. But again, I was hoping for even a glimmer of hope, something, anything. But not in this show. I will re-iterate, this is simply a personal preference of mine, I love dark comedy, tragedies, but for me storytelling is not just about showing an audience how awful life is – most of us already know that – it’s about offering tools to deal with that predicament. “Four Clowns” offers one alternative, survive. And maybe that’s enough for them, but not for me. Great. I wasn’t going to actually “review” this piece, now look what I’ve gone and done. Hey, it wasn’t really a “review”, right, more like a “social comment”? Heh.

The actual Lemon Meter reading of the show can be found. Listen to the professionals, not me. In the final analysis, this is a more than worthy show, original, filled with incredible performances, highly entertaining, and guided by a strong, unique voice and vision. Go see it at Sacred Fools. They’ll be running May 13 through June 10, late night shows at 11pm, Friday nights only. ”Four Clowns” next stop is various Fringe Festivals across the country, including Minnesota and San Francisco. Don’t miss this opportunity to see these wacky bunch of Mona Lisa’s and Mad Hatter’s saying good morning to the night.

Elton & Bernie probably had no idea that they’d written the liner notes for a clown show. Being the clowns that they are, how could they?

– Colin Mitchell

Four Clowns is a live theater experience that will leave you hurtin’. As in, most of us are probably not used to truly non-stop laughter, though the phrase is thrown around like a fake smile. Like, welcome to Chuck E. Cheese, home of non-stop fun, but also bullies and kids peeing in the ball pen. Or, come to Dave and Busters, (the Chuck E. Cheese for adults) where you’ll have a non-stop blast, a hangover and probably a black eye or herpes. I think you get the point. Non-stop fun is actually a subtle threat. And let me tell you, non-stop laughter will really stretch the cheek flaps and test the jawbones. So, be prepared to have your stomach muscles screaming at you after this show because seriously, it is two hours of relentless hilarity. And hopefully you’re not harboring a full bladder because you will pee your pants.

All four actors are spot on, naturally hilarious. Each one of them nailed “it” so hard I think “it’s” probably lodged in there for good (no pun intended). A brilliant mixture of clever songs and funky dances, amusing improvisation and frequent audience involvement, this is not a show to miss. These are no typical Bozo-at-the-circus clowns, but modern theater clowns enacting archetypes in a fresh, offbeat way. The energy on stage of these four clowns, Sad, Angry, Nervous and Mischievous, will have you rocking in your seat with them. And another warning: these clowns will not only climb onto the piano, energetically played by Mario Granville, but also into the audience, and they will ask for audience suggestions because Alive Theatre excels at engaging the entire congregation. You can go and sit passively at any movie theater, but with Alive Theatre boundaries between actor and viewer are blurred, thematically as well as corporeally.

I wrote a preview of this show here, but just to reiterate, Four Clowns is the baby of Jeremy Aluma of Alive Theatre, an always-uproarious three years young theater company based in Long Beach, CA. The play was conceived with the actors, so each one fits the role like a glove. Each one tells the story of his or her life throughout childhood, adolescence, adulthood and death. It’s irreverently entertaining but also personal enough to graze that soft spot in your psyche where you hide all your hurts under the rug. I found myself relating to bits about Sad Clown and Nervous Clown, while my partner practically embodied, in his own way, Mischievous Clown. Aluma described the piece as a “physical, musical and emotional journey into what it means to be human.” Though I’m not sure I arrived at any groundbreaking revelations, I definitely appreciate the message that pain must have laughter, and it’s just plain smart and funny.

One last thing, leave the kids at home. This is cheeky to the max, no holds barred adult humor performed in a surrealistic Theater of the Absurd fashion. If you love Samuel Beckett and Tom Stoppard, this will be right up your alley. But even if theater is something unfamiliar or uncomfortable to you, this is a guaranteed good time. Producing Director Danielle Dauphinee said, Four Clowns is a perfect starter piece for someone new to theater or absent from it for a while. It’s truly a great welcome back piece. It’ll blow your mind. Not stuffy. Not old-fashioned. New and outrageously fun.

So I hate to break the news that Four Clowns’ Long Beach spell is over, for now. This traveling band of minstrels collaborated with the Long Beach Playhouse to perform shows running March 4-19. This year marks the second season of Four Clowns, resurrected after winning Best in Physical Theater and Dance at the 2010 Hollywood Fringe Festival. Yes, more please. The good news is these clowns will still be in the area before leaving to tour the San Francisco Fringe Festival and Minnesota Fringe Festival. Catch them at Sacred Fools in Silverlake, Los Angeles May 13-June 10. Also watch for a Four Clowns rendition of Romeo and Juliet at the Hollywood Fringe Festival June 11-25. A new Alive Theatre play called Entropy General is also upcoming, so check their website for more information about a rollicking good time.

– Nancy Woo

I was under the assumption that clowns were invented to terrify children. Like most modern children, my opinion of clowns was formed solely by media representations because my parents loved me. Stephen King’sIt, Krusty the clown, Killer Klowns From Outer Space, Sweet Tooth from Twisted Metal, and the hemorrhaging clown from Billy Madison all contributed to my crippling fear of clowns. In general, people with make-up, big shoes, red noses, and/or the instinct to wrap children in cotton candy cocoons and suck the life out of them (I’m looking at you Killer Klowns) cannot be trusted.

Lucky for me and my fellow coulrophobists (guess what phobia these people have…I’ll give you a hint, clowns!), Jeremy Aluma’s Four Clowns offers a depiction of clowns that doesn’t induce fevered screams of “can’t sleep, clown will eat me!” what you get is an exaggerated display of the human condition showcased through the lives and deaths of four clowns, each one representing a clown archetype (sad, nervous, mischievous, and angry). The story divided into four acts, follows these clowns through the ups and downs of childhood, adolescence, adulthood, and death. Structure wise, Four Clowns is a Swiss Army knife of a show. Improvisational skits, musical numbers, audience participation segments, and miming bits function as transitions for the scripted story segments. This variety helps keep things lively and surprising. What kind of surprises lay in store you say? Well, if I told you they wouldn’t be–nevermind. I’ll just say that this play contains masturbation, suicide, cussing, torture, and rape. So if you were hoping for a more tidy representation of life, I would advise you to back the fuck away from the Long Beach Playhouse Theater. Otherwise, you may end up disappointed like Becky Kinder from our local paper, The Daily 49er.

I’d like to take a moment to respectfully disagree with Miss Kinder’s review of Four Clowns. Am I biased because I write for the Union Weekly? Just a smidgen. Why you might ask? Because I fucking loved the play! Kinder said, “the audience is bombarded with over the top sex scenes and cussing”, and also that, “the clowns mostly play at emotions.” Life is in your face; it is obscene and ugly at times, which is Aluma’s main point. As for these clowns playing at the audience’s emotions I feel that this is central to the play’s story and humor. Every member of the audience may not be able to relate to the stories that are represented but they can empathize. I especially loved Nervous Clown’s hay, adolescent misadventures with love because it speaks to the outcast in all of us (especially the gay kind, I’m gay!). I appreciate that Aluma’s creation is not a one-sided happy clown show, but an honest, hilariously exaggerated, portrayal of the human experience. Shit gets real in the play because life is real. Oh and Kinder also mentions that the, “production lacks comedy and leaves audiences dumbfounded.” Um, yeah, if you’re humorless and/or slow…bitch.

But a clown traditionally functions as a delighter and Four Clowns offers audiences many moments of spontaneous releases of laughter. Much of the humor comes from the audience’s awareness that the clowns are playing humans. The actor’s expressive physical mannerisms also sell the comedy. Like when Angry Clown leapt into the audience during the ‘Adolescence’ musical number and began to violently hump the empty seats in the fourth row. I wasn’t simply laughing because I find simulated sex with inanimate objects hysterical, but what really sold it was the fervor with which he worked those (lucky) seats.

If you fail to find the antics of these four clowns touching, humorous, or entertaining you’re probably not human. Wait, that’s unfair. Children, who might not understand the jokes, probably won’t like the play. Old people, with their prudish views on sex, may not like the show’s freewheeling sexual spirit. Oh and people with sticks, branches, or other wooden sexual paraphernalia lodged in their rectums, who find nothing amusing because the foreign object in said asshole prevents them from finding any joy in life, will leave Four Clowns having wasted their sorry-ass time.

– Vincent Chavez

If the press release is to be believed, “Four Clowns is a physical, musical and emotional journey into what it means to be a human being.”

If you put the emphasis on the “a,” it’s true enough.

An opening voiceover basically tells us that these four clowns—Angry Clown, Sad Clown, Mischievous Clown and Nervous Clown—have existed forever in a sort of stasis, but now have come to life because of the audience. The basic idea is that these four emotions can combinatorially represent all the possibilities of human existence.

That this is playing fast and loose with humanity doesn’t matter much, since the meat of the play doesn’t really explore this idea. Rather, Four Clowns is a series of look-ins on the lives of four individuals at specific stages of their lives: childhood, adolescence, adulthood and a depressing demise (though senescence is not dealt with, interestingly enough).

Each of these four threads adumbrates the development of a damaged personality, one that is shaped through the enjoyment of and suffering through various life experiences. Angry Clown, for example, is subject to a sadistic older brother; Nervous Clown is molested by a primary-school teacher.

It’s not clear why all we see is their suffering, but that does not make Four Clowns a morbid show, not really. This is due to the comic exuberance of Alexis Jones, Kevin Klein, Amir Levi, and Raymond Lee (aided to perfection by pianist Mario Granville, who is more than mere accompanist). All four deliver inspired, athletic performances that get them sweating early in the show and rarely give them any chance to rest.

While the plot lines of the vignettes (Sad Clown’s mother programming her with the idea that she’s fat, Mischievous Clown’s antics as a successful trial attorney) are adequate to their purposes, when they take flight, it’s all in the how, the ways in which director Jeremy Aluma and cast have conceived how to get across the details, the vocalizations and pantomimes and absurd little flourishes that always give us exactly what we need to get the point even while our focus is on how funny the moment is.

The improvisational flow here is key, and the clowns constantly sprinkle the spontaneous within the structure, a flavoring that goes down so well because Aluma has quite consciously cooked it up that way. On the night I attended, the cast jumped so smoothly and so immediately on a gentlemen’s need to exit for the restroom that my companion swore this must have been a plant (which I later confirmed was not the case). Jones, Klein, Levi, and Lee physically and verbally maneuver through the show like four robots sporting individualistic programming but a common goal, each moving toward that end with unique and cooperative perfection.

Warning: These clowns are foul-mouthed. This is not a kids’ show, on any level. But for all the cursing, it never seems gratuitous, in that it’s always genuinely funny. When these clowns cuss or go off script or break the fourth wall, it always feels like you couldn’t have planned it any better.

Groundbreaking human truths? Probably not. Funny? Oh yeah.

– Gregory Moore

The moment that the “Four Clowns” — Sad (Alexis Jones), Mischievous (Kevin Klein), Nervous (Amir Levi) and Angry (Raymond Lee) — appear on the bleak, black, and bare Long Beach Playhouse Studio stage, you realize there is nothing three-ring about this production.

The makeup, costumes and bulbous W.C. Fields noses may suggest ooohs and aaahs, purposeful mayhem and comedy that is physical and verbal, situational and improv. At heart, though, the evening makes the audience feel like a last-call bartender who serves four misfits who ache to tell the story of what’s it’s really like to be a clown, which, as we learn, is nothing more than the ability to turn pain into laughter.

The humor is all over the place. An older brother, for instance, sabotages his sibling’s first date, his date exchanges a hand job for a seat and then, when the swain can’t pay, she fellates the waiter. Depending on how seriously you take the Parental Advisory for Explicit Content tag, the episode is funny.

What makes the evening unique is that Jeremy Aluma, who conceives and directs the evening, doesn’t just string together a slew of salacious scenes — for that seems to be the common theme; it also gets the most laughs — for the sake of shock and ahhh, he circumscribes them within the context of a story of how the archetypal clowns forged their identities.

This is not a circus, with a non-stop, sequential though unconnected array of bits and gags, this is a drama that focuses on the epic though squalid journey of our four heroes through childhood, adolescence and adulthood. The result is as sobering as the voyage is outlandish.

Told with full speed ahead vignettes of every imaginable manner of dysfunction, the narrative is punctuated with physical humor (not just the expected punches and pratfalls, but a javelin hurled into a coach’s eye, a painful operation for cramps, a skeet shooting malfunction), audience-suggested riffs and musical numbers (including a saucy little piece on AIDS, cancer and dying babies). It explodes in your face.

Only afterwards, when you have a chance to reflect on — and not just respond to — what you’ve just seen do you realize that the trope of Sad, Mischievous, Nervous and Angry Clowns is the perfect way to present serious subject matter, namely, what goes into being human.

The Four Clowns obviously relish their roles. This enthusiasm makes their performances — and the evening — bristle, be it through movement, gesture, expression or voice. It’s easy to get caught up in their antics, to relate to one or more of them. You walk away with an appreciation of the cathartic effect that the production has on both the characters and on yourself.

Presented as a Monty Python-esque “And Now for Something Complete Different,” the production embodies a collaboration between the 81-year-old Playhouse, which provides the venue, and the itinerant Alive Theatre, which provides the content. It’s a boon for all concerned. Daring and energetic, weird and wonderful, the production makes you hope that the Playhouse can maintain its present momentum — and makes me wonder what Elaine Herman thinks.

– James Scarborough

Four Clowns, conceived and directed by Alive Theatre’s Jeremy Aluma, was a hit at the Hollywood Fringe Festival in the middle of the past year, has already been chosen for Fringe festivals in San Francisco and Minnesota, and is being considered for the upcoming festival in New York City. You can see it at the Long Beach Playhouse, where it is being performed in the Studio Theatre Fridays and Saturdays through March 19. Four Clowns is partly scripted, partly improvisational. The four clowns are Alexis Jones as Sad Clown, Kevin Klein as Mischievous Clown, Raymond Lee as Angry Clown and Amir Levi as Nervous Clown, with Mario Granville playing the piano. The play tells the tale of the four clowns as they live various life situations and finally become human. The stories are funny, yes, but also poignant and pointed. Four Clowns is a work in progress, and there is a different take this time around, especially with Granville on the battered piano playing Gershwin and Joplin before the play begins. You owe it to yourself to see this wicked take on the world.

– John Farrell

The makeup, costumes and bulbous W.C. Fields noses may suggest ooohs and aaahs, purposeful mayhem and comedy that is physical and verbal, situational and improv. At heart, though, the evening makes the audience feel like a last-call bartender who serves four misfits who ache to tell the story of what’s it’s really like to be a clown, which, as we learn, is nothing more than the ability to turn pain into laughter.

The humor is all over the place. An older brother, for instance, sabotages his sibling’s first date, his date exchanges a hand job for a seat and then, when the swain can’t pay, she fellates the waiter. Depending on how seriously you take the Parental Advisory for Explicit Content tag, the episode is funny.

What makes the evening unique is that Jeremy Aluma, who conceives and directs the evening, doesn’t just string together a slew of salacious scenes — for that seems to be the common theme; it also gets the most laughs — for the sake of shock and ahhh, he circumscribes them within the context of a story of how the archetypal clowns forged their identities.

This is not a circus, with a non-stop, sequential though unconnected array of bits and gags, this is a drama that focuses on the epic though squalid journey of our four heroes through childhood, adolescence and adulthood. The result is as sobering as the voyage is outlandish.

Told with full speed ahead vignettes of every imaginable manner of dysfunction, the narrative is punctuated with physical humor (not just the expected punches and pratfalls, but a javelin hurled into a coach’s eye, a painful operation for cramps, a skeet shooting malfunction), audience-suggested riffs and musical numbers (including a saucy little piece on AIDS, cancer and dying babies). It explodes in your face.

Only afterwards, when you have a chance to reflect on — and not just respond to — what you’ve just seen do you realize that the trope of Sad, Mischievous, Nervous and Angry Clowns is the perfect way to present serious subject matter, namely, what goes into being human.

The Four Clowns obviously relish their roles. This enthusiasm makes their performances — and the evening — bristle, be it through movement, gesture, expression or voice. It’s easy to get caught up in their antics, to relate to one or more of them. You walk away with an appreciation of the cathartic effect that the production has on both the characters and on yourself.

Presented as a Monty Python-esque “And Now for Something Complete Different,” the production embodies a collaboration between the 81-year-old Playhouse, which provides the venue, and the itinerant Alive Theatre, which provides the content. It’s a boon for all concerned. Daring and energetic, weird and wonderful, the production makes you hope that the Playhouse can maintain its present momentum — and makes me wonder what Elaine Herman thinks.

– James Scarborough

This hilarious and surprisingly deep show tells the tale of Four archetypal “clowns” – Sad, Mischievous, Angry, and Nervous – as they maneuver childhood, adolescence, adulthood, and death. Between heartbreaking and incredibly human (read= absurd, funny, awkward, erotic) moments, the characters improvise song, interact with the audience, and entice our inner devils. More incredible comedic timing & acrobatic movement than stereotypical white face & polka-dotted pants clowning, this piece is a must-see for lovers of spontaneity, devised-movement theatre, and laughing til you cry.

Run time is a little long at over an hour & 1/2, so plan accordingly. Adult subject matter, not for children.

– K. Primeau

Here be four clowns—Sad Clown (Alexis Jones), Angry Clown (Kevin Klein), Nervous Clown (Amir Levi), and Mischievous Clown (Quincy Newton)—and as an announcer intones, they’ve lived, died, and resurrected, never changing, since “Before the earth trespassed across the sky.” Odd, then, that creator Jeremy Aluma then shows us the terrestrial agonies that shaped them: bad moms, torturing older brothers, horny schoolteachers. It’s clown catharsis as each directs the rest to re-enact their childhood, adolescence, adulthood, and death in scenes that are skilled and true. Aluma may be saying that human pain is at once particular and universal; what’s certain is his cast is gifted, including musical director Ellen Warkentine as the one woman orchestra in the wings.

– Amy Nicholson

WARNING: Do not hire these clowns for your 5-year-old’s birthday party. But definitely go see Four Clowns (sans the little ones, of course). The archetypal clowns (Nervous, Mischievous, Angry and Sad) go through the stages of life: childhood, adolescence, adulthood and death. Not necessarily a morality play, it does leave the message that even though life is horrible – I mean really f***ing horrible – at least we can laugh our way through the pain. Each clown is an honest, albeit exaggerated, version of humanity, expertly crafted and directed by Jeremy Aluma and his quartet of brilliant clowns: Alexis Jones (Sad), Kevin Klein (Angry), Amir Levi (Nervous) and Quincy Newton (Mischievous). Last but not least is Ellen Warkentine whose musical accompaniment is superb and playful.

A mixture of classic clowning techniques with singing and improvisation – this is definitely a must see. You’ll be sure to cry…from laughter.

– Ashley Steed

The playful, troublemaking Four Clowns offer a night out you won’t soon forget. The Four Clowns are thrillingly unique, and you could possibly leave asking, “Did that really just happen?”

The show follows hints of structure, but the majority is merely improvisational. After every few scenes, the clowns actually break into spontaneous song. Among the crowd favorites are the impromptu tunes seemingly titled, “Cancer and Dying Babies” and “From Childhood to Adulthood: Adolescence.”

Four Clowns has moments of extremely clever humor followed by what I can only describe as dead airtime. Yet, despite the few quiet times of discomfort, there are a multitude of laughs.

The Sad Clown (Alexis Jones) is by far the funniest. Her timing is perfect, and she has the whole package. The comedienne has a lot of tricks up her sleeve and brings some remarkable one-liners to the show.

The Nervous Clown (Amir Levi) is also adorable, and you continually want to give him a hug. The Mischievous Clown (Quincy Newton) and the Angry Clown (Kevin Klein) both remain true to their archetypes and are full of refreshing energy.

The most impressive of the group is actually the brilliant musical director, Ellen Warkentine. With no score to play by, she improvs on the piano, clarinet and melodica.

– Stephanie Forshee