No drug like Triangle

I got through Princeton and the three decades that followed without seeing a Triangle show and its all-male kickline of repute — or disrepute. But when the troupe showed up practically at my front door in a Washington suburb, it seemed time to check it out.

Tradition runs deep through Triangle. Edmund Wilson '16 and F. Scott Fitzgerald '17 wrote the book and lyrics for the 1915 show, and in the early 1930s kicklines included Joshua Logan '31, James Stewart '32 and Jose Ferrer '33. The club performed yearly on "The Ed Sullivan Show" in the 1950s. Triangle went coed a year before Princeton, and Brooke Shields '87 later joined the line.

"For Love or Funny," Triangle's 113th annual production, spoofed reality television and Princeton. The December stop in Falls Church was part of Triangle's annual pre-Christmas trek to warmer climes.

There was another tradition associated with Triangle of which I was keenly aware: The chairman of The Daily Princetonian would attend opening night at McCarter, walk the hundred yards up University Place to the newspaper office, sit down and write a review that ran the next morning on the front page. I still remember J. Todd Simonds '68 performing this ritual.

The tuxedo-clad Simons — who once returned a ripe piece of copy to me with the dry admonition, "Never call a banana an elongated, yellow fruit" — lit up a cigar and banged out a 750-word review on "Enter Venus" in less time than it would have taken me to do the box score from a basketball game.

There were other luminaries on the 'Prince' in those years — including Bob Durkee '69, who wrote passionately about race relations on campus and broke the story of coeducation — but none forged a deeper impression than Simonds, who became a reporter for the antiwar Guardian after college, ventured into academe and later founded a robotics company.

I quit the 'Prince' and never got a chance to find out if I could review a Triangle show in 45 minutes flat with half Simonds' style.

Before seeing "For Love Or Funny," I checked the 'Prince' web site to see what this year's editor-in-chief had to say — and found nothing.

Larry Dupraz H'71'00, the paper's longtime compositor and backbone, informed me that the tradition of front-page reviews died in the 1980s. (A 'Prince' arts reporter reviewed the show a couple of weeks after the fact, praising its "giddy, unrepentant nonsense" and "fantastic" choreography.)

Those boxed, front-page reviews weren't fair to Theatre Intime or mighty McCarter itself or a host of other arts performances on campus. But they reviews appeared when 'Prince' readers could still catch the show.

"For Love or Funny" started out lamely, with a skit about a lake monster that looked more like summer camp improv than Broadway. But right before intermission a funny thing happened. "For Love or Funny" got better. It began with Drew Fornarola '06's "Orange Bubble" (lyrics and music by) about how nothing exciting ever happens:

Within our orange bubble . . . And if we ever really have a problem We'll throw money at it 'til it disappears!

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The second half opened with Andrew Romano '04's Porteresque paean to theater rats, "Brain on Triangle:"

Crystal meth has lost its cachet And heroin is passé Amphetamines don't pack that zing . . . There's no drug like Triangle . . . It's deadlier than cocaine Bubblier than champagne It's laced with toxic puns and quips

Suddenly there was lightning on stage. The troupe fed on it, through songs to make parents blanch including "Singles Night" (Forn-arola with Eve Glazer '06) and a satirical salute to Latvia ("Slavonic Pants" by Zach Goldstein '05) that had me thinking of the Marx Brothers. "In the '90s" (Jay Katsir '04 and Romano) kept Triangle on its roll.

Then came Triangle's sine qua non: the kickline by the male half of the 22-member cast, clad in bodacious red wigs and tartan miniskirts and not just kicking, but whirling about in "Pirates of Men's Pants." Half looked comical in curls and boots, and half looked almost foxy. They danced well, not just in the Rockettes-style kickline, but in a Jazzercise-on-steroids kick routine while seated. It was mesmerizing, and it wasn't just parody. It was dance.

I emerged with faith in theater restored. Could I do Triangle justice in 45 minutes? I doubt it. But it's great that dozens of talented Princetonians — from the strutters to the stagehands — are keeping alive this campus theatrical tradition. Christopher Connell '71 is a veteran Washington journalist and former assistant bureau chief for The Associated Press.