Tell Me I’m Pretty

Reviewed by Vanessa Cate
Beyond the Usual & Bootleg Theater
Through May 7

Joshua Silverstein’s Tell Me I’m Pretty is in some respects refreshingly unique compared to your typical one-man show. Its combination of masterful beatboxing and irreverent attitude set it apart from the run-of-the-mill autobiographical play. But you’ll still be able to find some familiar hallmarks, including the nostalgic photo slideshow of Silverstein throughout the years.

The show is about identity. What makes us who we are? Is it our ethnicity (about which Silverstein is incredibly preoccupied)? Our appearance? Whom you love? How wealthy you are? Your past? What you do? Penis size?

Each of these aspects of self are touched upon. But the strong undercurrent is clear from the get-go: Silverstein suffers, as most of us do, from a profound lack of self-love. On his addiction to spending (and his compulsion to buy a pair of onesies, which he obviously doesn’t need) Silverstein remarks, “This will make me pretty. This will make me better.” Image equaling value, even going so far as to turn oneself into a peacock, is a constant theme.

In many ways the show is incredibly easy to relate to, at times even setting itself up to be profound. Sadly, the writing never reaches that level. In terms of story and substance, there isn’t much at all. Instead of giving us engaging personal context, we’re mainly presented with a variety of snarky songs, colorful diversions, and different ways for him to tell us — once again — that he has yet to accept himself for the person he is.

The evening could have been trimmed and tightened, though everything was performed with consistently high energy, and Silverstein’s stamina was apparent and impressive. Diana Wyenn’s direction, Joey Guthman’s lighting, and Matt Hill’s video design added to a successfully “pretty” display.

In the end, though many of Silverstein’s admissions were brave (and his performance entertaining), I still wished for greater authenticity. A beautiful scene Silverstein conducts with his reflection in the bathroom mirror — about how ridiculous and harmful it is to judge yourself harshly for things that are ultimately insignificant — was moving and even motivating. But the revelation seemed unearned – the result of structural need for a redemptive theatrical ending rather than a true lesson learned.

Bootleg Theater, 2220 Beverly Blvd., Los Angeles; Thurs.-Sat. 7:30 p.m.; through May 7. (213)389-3856 or www.bootlegtheater.org/calendar Running time: 90 minutes with no intermission.