The opening sequence of the Second City’s new main-stage revue had me worried. First there’s an amusing but indeterminate sketch introducing us to six people riding a Greyhound bus, apparently into the twilight zone. That’s followed by movie-style credits projected on the walls of the stage. It looked to me like a setup for a theme—maybe something where the riders pop up at telling moments throughout the evening, singing about how we’re all on this Bus of Blah-blah-blah together. After years of watching successive companies do that sort of stuff, I’ve begun to think that themes are suspect when it comes to Second City shows. They almost inevitably force smart, talented people to make greeting-card generalizations about Human Nature and Modern Life. Worse, they often incite them to acts of choreography.
The bit is a classic only in part because it’s hilarious. It also manages to occupy a spot both in and out of time: current in its references, archetypal in its context, expansive in its creativity and compassion.
Overall, however, Panic belongs to Hartman. Short and thin, with a deadpan reminiscent of a silent-movie comedian, he continues to make the case for his physical-comedy genius. Hartman’s body language helps everything he’s in succeed, from the cowpoke skit to an oddly touching bit centered on a deaf bully. An otherwise pointless passage about incompetent secret service agents is saved entirely by his outlandish intervention. He’s extraordinary.
Open run: Tue-Thu 8 PM, Fri-Sat 8 and 11 PM, Sun 7 PM Second City Mainstage Theatre 1616 N. Wells 312-337-3992 secondcity.com $23-$48
