I haven't seen it yet (and may not be able to even get tickets if and when I can go) but the revival of Pee-Wee Herman's show seems to be a big hit down at the Nokia Theater here in Los Angeles. Friends who've been say it's great and the ol' rumor mill is saying it'll tour, playing Vegas, maybe even stopping off on Broadway for a while. This all sounds like good news and it prompts me to recall seeing Paul Reubens playing Pee-Wee at the Groundlings Theater here in L.A., developing the character until it finally became what it became.
Around '81, it got to the point where there was a Midnight show done every Saturday night…a surreal evening that went on a little long, though its length somehow added to the quixotic nature of it all. Pee-Wee showed cartoons and public service films. He lobbed Tootsie Rolls into the audience, including one, inadvertently, directly into my eye. He welcomed an endless array of odd friends onto his playhouse stage. And at the end of the show, he learned how to fly, which I gather is the plot of the new show, as well. Two people who later became friends of mine separate from one another — Dawna Kaufmann and Bill Steinkellner — were highly responsible for assembling the proceedings, and it was full of fine performers including Phil Hartman, Edie McClurg and John Paragon.
Pee-Wee had a sweetness then. The character changed back and forth in the years after. Sometimes, he was a real innocent ten-year-old boy who just happened to be played on stage or screen by a much older man. And sometimes, he was a much older (and meaner) man who in some sort of sick dementia thought he was a ten year old boy. On the Saturday morning program, you generally got the sweeter Pee-Wee, and that's why I thought it all worked. That was the Pee-Wee of the Midnight show.
The night I went to it was one of the more memorable and oddest nights I've spent in a theater. It was sold out for the duration of its run and I was only able to get seats because I'd met Bill Steinkellner, who'd directed it. I took a lady friend of mine named Bridget Holloman (sad obit here) and we were there on time but the show was not. An understudy was going on and needed extra rehearsal so we all stood in the lobby for a half-hour or so…and then there were tech delays. The festivities started around 1 AM and went on and on and on, apparently a lot longer than they usually did. To make timekeeping matters even stranger, it was a night when we set the clocks ahead so when we got out two-and-a-half hours later, it was not 3:30 AM but 4:30 AM. And the show wasn't over.
No one at the theater had uttered the words "Canter's Delicatessen" aloud but somehow everyone there knew that was the place to go. Without consultation, we all piled into our respective vehicles and caravaned over to that wonderful open-24-hours deli on Fairfax. This included many of the cast members, some still in costume or at least character. It was like the third act of the play with corned beef added. People were performing at their tables or in the aisles and the Canter's waitstaff was sidestepping them and acting like this was the most natural thing in the world. In the booth next to ours was Phil Hartman, still wearing about half his makeup as the gruff Captain Carl and barking out his order for Matzo Brei the way an old sea cap'n would order Matzo Brei.
It was well after 5 AM, maybe closer to six when Bridget and I finally got back to my home. I asked her if she'd enjoyed the experience and she said, "I don't know…but I wouldn't have missed it for the world." The folks enjoying the current offering down at the Nokia may well feel the same way but I can't believe it's as memorable as the all-encompassing dinner theater production we attended. It was so very special to visit the playhouse and stay up with Pee-Wee 'til that close to dawn.