Eddie Izzard's Psychological Inner Peace
On Friday night, my Bonnie and I attended Eddie Izzard’s “Stripped” performance at the Ryman Auditorium. Having been a dedicated fan since actually catching his “Dress to Kill” show on HBO several years back (even given my disappointment with some of the other performances available on DVD), it was with great anticipation that we took our seats.
Izzard did not disappoint. Pound for pound, the guy is the funniest man on the planet, and for almost two full hours, my stomach hurt. When I wasn’t looking at Bonnie to see if she “got the joke,” I was banging my arm on the chair in front of me as a form of physical relief.
Izzard’s performance worked for any number of reasons. First, there was something especially delicious and slightly ironic about watching him in this former church and former home of the Grand Ole Opry. Given his general left of center views, his engaged dismissal of religious based explanations of almost anything, and his occasion forays into transvestism, there is simply something rather non-Rymanesque about Izzard (well, on second glance, the transvestim fits elements of both country music and religion). I felt it, and the entire audience understood it as well. This was one of those magical moments when the setting itself made us all feel like we were part of a conspiracy. With that as a starting point, Izzard had us as soon as the lights went down. And with his quick pacing, he never let go.
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