Andrew Dice Clay in concert: one of the soon-forgotten controversies of 1990. Some thought that his Brooklyn-bred, leather-jacketed, pompadour-coiffed, filthy-mouthed persona is vile enough to be spoken of in terms of an organized boycott. Others, or at least he himself, thought the vileness is all right because it's just a role he's playing and it's funny. Well, obviously it's a role, and equally obviously, on the evidence collected here, it isn't funny (excepting maybe the group of celebrity impressions at the end of the concert, or maybe only the Pacino part of the group). The lack of polish is — to risk a contradiction in terms — glaring. But because it's a role, it perhaps shouldn't matter so much that it isn't funny. What does seem to matter is the format: one man yammering at us without interaction and without interruption (not counting the half-hour of preliminary padding, with Clay as a Jerry Lewis-ish nebbish prior to his transformation into Superstud). The vileness of the role makes this intolerable. Directed by Jay Dubin. (1991) — Duncan Shepherd
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