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Growing up and selling out
Blue Man Group: An "80s relic
Madeline Schaefer
During the Great Depression and World War II, Americans of the "Greatest Generation" flocked to Coney Island for the rush of the roller coaster. Modern society has always produced entertainment as a means to forget the present. But any spectacle should reflect the particular anxieties and technologies of the society it's attempting to appease.
A male trio painted from head to toe in bright blue paint was a fabulous spectacle for the '80s, and perhaps even for the '90s. But the Blue Man Group's current tour reminds my yet-to-be-defined generation that when old forms attempt to fill the entertainment needs of a new era, the result is nothing but overpriced disappointment.
Blue Man Group was quite avant-garde in its heyday: Three men, covered in glistening blue paint, used chrome pipes to create unearthly, disembodied rhythms while splattering theater floors with monochrome paint. In the early '90s, this group held a funeral commemorating the death of the '80s. I was just a tot at the time, so I envy those who attended that quintessentially postmodern event.
A message outgrown
Unfortunately, as I found the other day at the Merriam, today's Blue Man Group conducts eulogies masquerading as cutting-edge performance art. In short, the Blue Man Group has grown up and sold out. This relic of the late 20th Century can't seem to accept that modern society has outgrown the group's message and even its form.
Flashing lights on stage screens just don't do it any more. The group's music easily could have been produced by a young boy sitting in front of his newly updated version of Garage Band. The few compelling "wow" moments were invariably undermined by a male voice-over commanding the audience to "Shake your booty" as giant white inflatable balls bounced around the theater.
The group's current (and not especially original) gimmick is group participation. At the beginning, digital scorecards scrolled text on top of the stage, encouraging the audience to recite its contents in unison. Yes, all of us can read! And the screen can make us say funny things all at once!
The audience held its collective breath as the three blue men scoured the audience for "volunteers," whom they proceeded to platter with paint and slam against a canvas, all projected on a giant screen— apparently Blue Man Group's comment on the arbitrary nature of contemporary artistic composition.
Here's my question for Blue Man Group: After commenting on the state of art for 30 years, is this the best you can come up with?
The mob that refreshes
I was the exception, of course. Most everyone else in the Merriam audience seemed delighted, even excited, to serve as slaves to these strange men painted in blue. Perhaps that was the point of the images of those giant personal iPhones dwarfing the Blue Men on stage: We've become so disjointed from one another through our iPhones and personalized computers that a mindless mob seems like a refreshing change of pace.
These modern Blue Men seem to market themselves as modern-day clowns: self-reflexive, goofy and aloof. Nothing wrong with clowns, of course. But these guys were simply annoying. If I want spectacle, I'll download the latest LOL cats video on YouTube. Or watch the Mummers' parade. Now, there's social commentary you can sink your teeth into— and a genuine crowd scene, too.♦
To read a response, click here.
A male trio painted from head to toe in bright blue paint was a fabulous spectacle for the '80s, and perhaps even for the '90s. But the Blue Man Group's current tour reminds my yet-to-be-defined generation that when old forms attempt to fill the entertainment needs of a new era, the result is nothing but overpriced disappointment.
Blue Man Group was quite avant-garde in its heyday: Three men, covered in glistening blue paint, used chrome pipes to create unearthly, disembodied rhythms while splattering theater floors with monochrome paint. In the early '90s, this group held a funeral commemorating the death of the '80s. I was just a tot at the time, so I envy those who attended that quintessentially postmodern event.
A message outgrown
Unfortunately, as I found the other day at the Merriam, today's Blue Man Group conducts eulogies masquerading as cutting-edge performance art. In short, the Blue Man Group has grown up and sold out. This relic of the late 20th Century can't seem to accept that modern society has outgrown the group's message and even its form.
Flashing lights on stage screens just don't do it any more. The group's music easily could have been produced by a young boy sitting in front of his newly updated version of Garage Band. The few compelling "wow" moments were invariably undermined by a male voice-over commanding the audience to "Shake your booty" as giant white inflatable balls bounced around the theater.
The group's current (and not especially original) gimmick is group participation. At the beginning, digital scorecards scrolled text on top of the stage, encouraging the audience to recite its contents in unison. Yes, all of us can read! And the screen can make us say funny things all at once!
The audience held its collective breath as the three blue men scoured the audience for "volunteers," whom they proceeded to platter with paint and slam against a canvas, all projected on a giant screen— apparently Blue Man Group's comment on the arbitrary nature of contemporary artistic composition.
Here's my question for Blue Man Group: After commenting on the state of art for 30 years, is this the best you can come up with?
The mob that refreshes
I was the exception, of course. Most everyone else in the Merriam audience seemed delighted, even excited, to serve as slaves to these strange men painted in blue. Perhaps that was the point of the images of those giant personal iPhones dwarfing the Blue Men on stage: We've become so disjointed from one another through our iPhones and personalized computers that a mindless mob seems like a refreshing change of pace.
These modern Blue Men seem to market themselves as modern-day clowns: self-reflexive, goofy and aloof. Nothing wrong with clowns, of course. But these guys were simply annoying. If I want spectacle, I'll download the latest LOL cats video on YouTube. Or watch the Mummers' parade. Now, there's social commentary you can sink your teeth into— and a genuine crowd scene, too.♦
To read a response, click here.
What, When, Where
Blue Man Group. Closed January 2, 2011 at the Merriam Theatre, Broad St. above Spruce. www.kimmelcenter.org.
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