Guys out-number gals on the improv scene, so I’m all for the show that features ladies—and just the ladies—working their improv chops. I only wish the members of Valid Hysteria had a firmer grasp on what they are trying to accomplish. Individually, the women show sparks of talent and mischief. Lauren Hearter conjures a very funny Elizabeth McGovern-like deadpan sensibility, willing to comment on the absurdity of a moment without breaking character. (When her scene partner mimed the discovery of jewelry trinket “from the 1890s!” Hearter parried in monotone, “How did you know the date?”) Mary Gardner is also quite good—she has a knack for women who stand behind sales counters and give off false cheer. Rebecca Grossman is another, able to play creepy and inappropriate, or a Liverpool greaser. But too often these performers seem isolated from one another, in different worlds. (The show is preceded by an improv set performed each week by a different guest team. Altogether the running time is just over an hour.) There is no shortage of players on stage—on the night I attended, they topped out at nine—but where’s the chemistry? No one seems to know intuitively where anyone else is going. This problem manifests itself in the opening scene, a dull choreographed bit that uses word association and robotic marching band moves. There’s got to be a smarter way to get the juices flowing. (Nina Metz)
