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Record-holding "Caveman" keeps the yuks going Submitted by Michael Fielding on Sat, 06/16/2007 - 2:00am.

THEATER REVIEW
"Defending the Caveman" engages local audiences in a two-night stand at the Beverly Arts Center.

The whole man-versus-woman routine in stand-up comedy can be somewhat trite, the result of a lax comic with little insight to engage the audience. When the topic became a standard in stand-up circles in the '80s, it turned some audiences off of stand-up forever. What's more, Southwest Side theatergoers are more of an asset than a commodity, so when Milwaukee native Tyler Bohne opened a two-night run Friday of Rob Becker's "Defending the Caveman" at the Beverly Arts Center, it was a bit of a gamble.

Yet the longest-running solo play in Broadway history has been translated into 15 languages, so Becker (who quit the show in 2003) must have done something right. Bohne's affability mixes well with his professional training as an improv artist, which softens the man-versus-woman cliches and makes them more palatable for audiences of both genders and varying ages.

The set is simple, basic and, for the most part, faithful to Becker's original: a stone easy chair, Flinstones-era TV and two lifesize replicas of cave drawings -- one of a pregnant woman and the other of a man with a conspicuous "spear."

Bearded and burley, Bohne is the modern-age caveman -- except for the earring. A North Sider himself, he wasn't intimidated by the locals -- some of whom were even newcomers to not only the BAC but the theater altogether. It was a hearty, animated crowd that never veered into the sea of heckling that comics from Tim Allen to Michael Richards fear the most.

The performance began with a few laughs, and as the once-hesistant audience members became more at ease with Becker's observations and Bohne's interpretations, they loosened up a bit. A few clanks of beer bottles and a couple shouts to Bohne later (one was simply "Viagra!"), the show engaged an audience that could have easily been rowdier but remained respectfully in on the jokes throughout.

What seemed to make it work was that while the show may be founded on the many cliches of men and women, it steered clear of toilet-seat-and-toothbrush jokes. Bohne sustained the laughs throughout the 90-minute performance, and much of the audience hung around afterward sharing with their friends in the lobby their thoughts about the show.

Rather than playful puns on typical male-female behavior, Becker (and, subsequently, the many cave thespians who have followed in his footsteps) observed the truths that resonate in all households -- men and women alike. We all fit into the roles: Somebody's the talker, while somebody's the TV remote hog, for example. Those roles aren't necessarily ascribed to stereotypes, though. I recognized that firsthand.

In my own marriage, I'm the one who's going at 78 RPMs; my wife's at just 33 RPM's. I want to talk about my emotions; she just wants me to shut up. When I'm lost I ask for directions; she finds it a challenge to find her way on her own. Baseball is great, Bohne tells the audience, because it's a bunch of guys waiting around for something to happen. I have a hard time sitting through nine innings.

Yet just about the time I was convinced that I had misplaced my Man Card somewhere along the line, Bohne reminded me that I simply hadn't renewed it in a while: My wife shops to wander; I shop with a goal. My wife likes to plan her television viewing schedule; I click and click and click and click -- and when I find nothing on I click some more.

It's those kind of observations that Becker and, by extension, Bohne and his contemporaries, exploit in order to win back those audiences who had sworn off the man-versus-woman comedy routine; there is much more to the differences between the genders than baseball and shopping.

Bohne made the show his own, inserting anecdotes from his own life, making it personal and at times sentimental: An endearing -- and true -- story about his brother's first child slows the roller coaster pace at the end of the show when Bohne relates the night they found out about the pregnancy. Bohne's brother took him outside and asked if he'd help build a fort. It illustrated, Bohne recalled, a tremendous amount of love one man had for someone he had yet to meet.

Overall, it was a cheerful performance of a cheerful production. There's not a lot of anthropological insight to the show, but no matter -- Friday night's audience (which could conceivably be completely different from tonight's) appreciated it. And with that, Bohne's own storyline joins that of his 150,000-year-old ancestors: The caveman, it turns out, was a good guy simply protecting his family. So a word to the ladies in the audience -- men are not jerks, Bohne reiterated at the end of the show; they're just of a different culture of sorts. Where there were once hunters and gatherers, there are now negotiators and cooperators.

Tickets cost $35 and are still available for tonight's 8 p.m. performance of "Defending the Caveman." For more information call 773-445-3838 or visit www. beverlyartcenter.org.

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