Eric Singel's "The Wedding Consultant' at Walnut Studio 3

Arrivals at The Wedding Consultant are greeted by sprightly tunes like "YMCA" and many other wedding reception staples. It is a perfect way to recall my own childhood memories of weddings in the Philadelphia suburb of Bryn Athyn, Pa., when I'd get caught without warning, like a small bird in a sudden gale, among scores of lightly soused grown-ups doing the Electric Slide.

Family weddings, in my experience, were all very similar affairs. After a ceremony in Bryn Athyn Cathedral to the strains of Pachelbel's Canon, we all trooped to the society hall, which was in fact a dark, cavernous, musty-smelling 50-year-old gymnasium attached to the elementary school— from the inside out, possibly the ugliest building that ever hosted a special occasion. But decked in tables, chairs, balloons and bouquets, it continues to serve as my own friends hold their weddings there.

It's fitting proof of the title character's adage in Eric Singel's show: "One wedding is just like another when you get right down to it."

In this case, Singel rounds up every contemporary wedding-day cliché known to Western society to prove that weddings are indeed universally similar affairs"“ even if, as in this case, the wedding consultant must contend with the groom and the other groom (and the mother, other mother, and the other other mother of the other groom) instead of the bride and groom and their respective mothers and fathers.

Five characters

Studio 3, having hosted the likes of Irma Vep and Tuna, Texas over the past few years, proves an ideal venue for Singel's quick-change one-man show. In a 90-minute performance, Singel presents five segments of one character apiece: Lance, the groom; policeman Michael (who is the other groom's best man); Bobbie Sue, mother of the groom; Rhonda, the mother of the other groom; and finally, Iris, the wedding consultant who orchestrates the tempestuous arrival of all and sundry to the country club.

The soon-to-be spouses, it develops, got engaged impulsively and are ill matched. The loyal, life-long best friend would really make a better groom. The bigoted Southern parents ("Don't Ask, Don't Tell is the only thing Bill Clinton did right") haven't been informed that their son's intended, "Leslie," is in fact a man. Lance moans that getting married means a home in the suburbs while immediately getting "fat as a house."

As for the wedding itself, the best man must make sure the groom is sufficiently inebriated to prevent his escape from the church, but not so inebriated that he can't stay on his feet at the altar. The mother of the groom's job is to wear beige and sit in the corner, because weddings are all about the mother of the bride. No bride ever plans her own wedding"“ this is the role of the mother of the bride, who never got to plan her own wedding for the very same reason.

My mother's palm tree

I admit"“ these clichés contain some truth. I hearken back to the week before my own wedding (not held, thank God, in the old gym), when my mother and I argued about the inclusion of a large, bristly, garish artificial palm tree in the reception decorations. I declared that I was the one getting married, and I didn't want it anywhere on the premises.

"OK," Mom said. "We'll put it over by the bar." (After the wedding, the palm tree went on to enjoy a long and fruitful residence in my parents' house, decorated, in lieu of a Christmas tree, with a string of small, lime-green crocodile lights and tropical fish ornaments).

Singel's show, with sharp direction by Jose Aviles, provides many spot-on, hilarious turns of phrase. Instead of lugubrious or self-indulgent monologues of remembrance or recollection, each one-man scene is a lively dialogue in which only one character is visible. Singel wins the audience over, especially in the show's latter segments.

Where's the beef?

But ultimately, The Wedding Consultant offers little genuine sentiment and very little humor that isn't familiar, warmed-over wedding jokes"“ or clichés of homosexuality, including a teenage boy who craves salon highlights and a college student who has appalled her mother with a boy's haircut and an experimental "phase."

As Singel emerges for his curtain call in a T-shirt promoting marriage equality, the final impression seems to be the commonality between same-sex weddings and heterosexual ones. It's too bad this show didn't display some genuine heart to supplement Singel's undeniable talent. The laughs are here, but not the substance that might make audiences reflect about why marriage should be an option for everyone.