The Lehman Trilogy @ Le Petit Theatre, New Orleans
Review by Paul Oswell
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In 2008, we watched TV news as employees filed out of glass and steel lobbies, rivers of forlorn faces and bankers boxes. It’s these boxes that construct the worlds of the Lehman family (yes, those Lehman brothers) in The Lehman Trilogy, a sprawling, three-hour capitalist saga (currently playing at Le Petit Theatre through 19th October). 

Three actors constantly move dozens of boxes like brick slabs, fabricating stock rooms, school desks, throne-like boardroom chairs, train carriages and even the Tower of Babel. The boxes contain scraps of humble beginnings, machinery for expanding empires, and spiritually destructive amounts of money. The boxes frame two centuries of The American Dream. 

We know how the Lehman dream ended. We start with its beginning. In 1844, Heyum Lehmann (Leslie Nipkow) arrives in America from Rimpar, Bavaria. He is renamed Henry Lehman, the first corrupting imposition of his new home. Brothers Emanuel (Ryan Hayes) and Mayer (David Lind) follow, and they establish a fabric store in Montgomery, Alabama. 

What follows is one of the most technically impressive shows you’ll see on a New Orleans stage. Nipkow, Hayes and Lind barrel through a conveyor of characters, employing only changes in accent and countenance. Age and gender are transcended as we race through the years, and meet townsfolk, children, wives-to-be. The actors move continuously and seamlessly between the roles, all while balletically sliding tables and throwing cotton bales and hefting those endless boxes around a split-level stage. The blocking alone is a work of art. 

Three hour-long installments cover the rise and the fall; of money and capital, of humanity and essence. This first generation cloaks itself in Jewish-European identity, marking holidays and sitting shiva for seven days when Henry dies. America requires more corruption, though. Commerce here equals trade with slavers, befriending them, mollifying them even after the Civil War. 

Decades pass, fabric becomes cotton becomes coffee becomes commodities and railways and banking. In two generations, the Lehman family are millionaires with New York offices. We are told (the script is mostly delivered in the third person) that their children have no Rimpar or Alabama blood. They are pure New York: rhesus positive for capital. 

While the cast exploit the entire stage, the video wall behind loops through increasingly industrial backdrops. Cotton fields, factories, stock exchanges and unstoppable trains hurtle us through the years. By the third act, the Lehmans are purebred capitalists, mainlining economic growth, the only landscape a glowing panorama of abstract prices. Eventually, the numbers fall. Seven-day shivas have become three-minute silences. A lightning financial meltdown. A 150-year erosion of character. Boxes asunder on the floor. The end. 

The U.S. Census of 1860 records that in reality, Mayer Lehman owned slaves. This fact is not mentioned on stage. One of the criticisms of this story - which won Best Play at the 2022 Tony Awards - is that the horrors of slavery are mostly elided. They mostly are. 

I’m not Jewish, so I’m unqualified to talk on the validity of harmful tropes, another point commonly raised about the work. I took it as an indictment of all craven men. Those who worship only commodity and leverage fall far from any aspect of humanity, no matter their background. 

There are many conversations to be had around The Lehman Trilogy beyond the scope of this review. What can’t be denied is the genuinely astonishing work done by the cast and creative team on this specific production. Leslie Nipkow, Ryan Hayes, David Lind, and the entire crew pull off a formidable, evocative, artistic high wire act. The questions about America in those boxes are undoubtedly difficult ones, but we should open them and sit with their contents.

The Lehman Trilogy plays at Le Petit Theatre through October 19th. Click here for more information and ticketing. 

First night review: Frankenstein by The NOLA Project @ Lafitte Greenway
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FIRST NIGHT REVIEW: Frankenstein @ The Lafitte Greenway
Review by Paul Oswell

The comic potential of Mary Shelley’s 1818 novel ‘Frankenstein’ has been heavily mined. Mel Brooks’ and Gene Wilder’s 1974 film ‘Young Frankenstein’ is so beloved that it is many people’s favorite film of all time. So numerous are the spoofs, you’d think you were looking at a literary corpse that’s pretty ripe, and not for new adaptations.

I know this thesis is one that I just suggested, but: you’re wrong. Enter The NOLA Project’s ‘Frankenstein’ (playing through Oct 17th at the Lafitte Greenway), written by Pete McElligott. They have, and yes I’m starting a glaringly obvious line of analysis so brace yourself for an indulgent run-on sentence, stitched together parts of the original and its many interpretations, and jolted new comedic life into this moribund cultural cadaver. It’s…and here comes the unforgivably predictable pay-off…alive. 

The Gothic world building around a bare concrete warehouse is instantly immersive thanks to the cast’s skillful character work. Back that up with Leslie Claverie’s razor-sharp direction and a script that’s as taut as a virtuoso skin graft and you’re in for quite a ride. If you saw last year’s ‘Dracula’ (also penned by McElligott), you’ll love both the tonal similarity and the cast’s astonishing theatrical dexterity, whisking through multiple roles at breakneck speed.

We open aboard a ship in the eerie Arctic seas (where Shelley's novel ends), and a beleaguered Victor Frankenstein (played with glorious scheming idiocy by Keith Claverie) has been rescued by a spooked collection of seafarers. The suave but seedy Captain Walton (Matthew Thompson pompously lording it on deck) wants to know more. "You wish to know my whole life story?" asks Frankenstein. "No. No. I don't think we have time for that...", but it’s too late, and with the first of many, many laughs, we’re spirited back to Victor’s childhood. 

The first half is a hailstorm of gags that come at you from all angles. Victor’s love for his adopted sibling Elizabeth (an adorably bratty Keyara Milliner) develops alongside his reanimation obsession. In college, his professor (one of a host of James Bartelle’s incredible weirdos in this show) inspires him to conquer death via an amazing extended riff on homeopathic medicine. 

Characters and plot points come thick and fast. Godrick the sexy graverobber (Noah Hazzard oozing seductive silliness), Victors’ fully mature ten-year old brother (Thompson again, stealing every scene he’s in with costume designer Jazzmyne Cry’s incredible visual), a suspiciously ardent cop (a pitch-perfect Kristin Witt), a dancing medium, and a cheeky postal worker (J’aiLa Christina dynamically nailing both) all pinball around the venue. 

Khiry Armstead’s (sound) and Adachi Pimentel’s (lighting) designs keep things engagingly atmospheric, and some fantastic human shadow puppetry against a hung sheet (among other deft touches) speaks to the talents of Lucas Harm’s production design.

Breaths caught in the interval, the second half introduces the creature, but don’t expect any clichéd neck bolts. Michael Aaron Santos brilliantly melds slapstick brutishness and humanity with genuine pathos. The source material is treated with refreshing fidelity, but it’s interpreted so imaginatively; see for instance the ingenious workaround that directs the creature’s learning. The joke rate is still frantic, but the climactic confrontation threads compassion into the comedy: “We are our own creations” becomes a poignant refrain. 

No joke set up is left hanging, the callbacks are flawless, and every supporting character (too many to individually admire here but see 'Extras', below, for added info) adds to the anarchic hilarity. Even a passing bike tour blasting music was seamlessly folded into the performance. Frankenstein is a triumph for cast, director, writer and crew. There’s a huge heart beating beneath this riotously funny monster of a show. 

The NOLA Project's 'Frankenstein' plays at the Lafitte Greenway through October 17th. Click here for more information and ticketing
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FIRST NIGHT REVIEW: THE LEHMAN TRILOGY
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Wendy, Darling @ The Midtown Hotel
Review by Todd Perley

“Where you’re seated, there’s a chance you may get splattered with blood. Is that okay?”

I feel that any event where I don’t go home splattered with blood is a night wasted. My friend MJ whispered, “Is this Gallagher on crack?” We nodded assent with big, stupid grins and were handed airline- sized bottles of 'Jack’s Red Rum', and that, plus the sanguinary caveat, had already created an immersive experience even before getting to the pool where much of the action of the play would be...well...immersed.

We begin with the ensemble gathering in 1920s togs as Midnight and the Stars and You is played by The Bomb Pulse, our live band for the evening. If you know Stanley Kubrick’s film adaptation, this melody is the quickest and most effective way to set the scene. Champagne and ballroom dancing, and a quick dip in the pool for our first water ballet. The audience howls, hoots, whistles, laughs, and applauds, turning the space into an all-inclusive party.

Set in the Underglance Hotel in New Orleans, the Torrance family was warned, before the hotel closes for the season, “Are you sure you want to be here through the summer? It can get very lonely and isolating.” (No lie!) And so begins the tale-as-old-as-time story of Stephen King’s 'The Shining' wrapped in a tortilla of snarky parody.

Psychic son Danny (Riley Elise) is college-aged, and mom Wendy (Rebecca Poole) knows to use the they/them pronouns, while self-absorbed, frustrated Jack Torrance (Cody Keech) never catches on and obtusely sticks with he/him. This is a subtle detail that both brings the story into the 21st
century, and establishes Jack as the asshole, with succinctness.

Danny is visited by their childhood ‘imaginary friend’ Tony (dressed as a cartoonish tiger, natch) and is warned of the dangers of the Underglance Hotel for those who shine. Dick Hallorann, the hotel’s resident drag queen chef, also warns Danny telepathically, but assures them what they see can’t hurt them. Yah, right.

Most of the scenes are punctuated with a water ballet sequence set to contemporary music expertly played by The Bomb Pulse. Throw in a little pole dancing from the Grady Twins (why not!), and a wet hedge maze constructed of leaf-adorned paddle boards just for funsies, and the Torrance’s season of turmoil has never been so hilarious. Keech’s Jack is genuinely frightening amidst the camp of the rest of the performances, which adds a touch of danger and tension. Danny’s complicated relationship with Tony the Tiger illustrates how alone they’ve been throughout a life spent with the shining talent.

I’m not too concerned with spoiling the plot of The Shining. IYKYK, after all. But I’ll refrain from any further spoilers of how Aquamob and especially the deft direction of Lizzy Collins skewers these well known plot points. It’s best to go into this as blind as possible. Let each irreverent moment surprise you. And they will.

One of the most enjoyable aspects of Wendy, Darling is the atmosphere the company and band manage to create. No polite clapping at the end of each ballet scene. Screams and whistles are encouraged, more akin to a rock concert. During intermission (through which the band plays some rockin’ good tunes), my friend MJ was regaled by the woman seated next to them about the eight seasons of Aquamob plays she had seen, as she vowed she would never, ever miss a production by this company.

I looked around during intermission and saw everyone talking to everyone, friends and strangers alike, and the whole courtyard felt like a Mardi Gras parade with that New-Orleans-specific sense of community and bonhomie. I can’t say I’ve ever been to a play that evoked this special feeling that only our city can understand. I don’t know the precise recipe to create this world, but Aquamob thankfully does. You leave the show just feeling so connected and damned good!

Although I left without a drop of blood on me, the night was most certainly not a waste. A bloody good time. You may have 'Midnight and the Stars and You' stuck as an earworm for the next few days, but it’s an acceptable price to pay. I’m with MJ’s neighbor -- a new convert, I will henceforth be at every year’s Aquamob production. Absolutely do not miss Wendy, Darling!

Wendy, Darling plays at the Midtown Hotel through October 11th, click here for more information and ticketing

READ OUR INTERVIEW WITH DIRECTOR LIZZY AND AQUAMOB FOUNDER ALAYNE
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Dear Evan Hansen
Rivertown Theatres
Review by Beth D'Addono

If an anxiety-riddled teenager falls out of a tree, does anybody care? This is just one of the driving issues in the show Dear Evan Hansen, which won six Tony awards in 2017 including best musical. Eight years later, the story still resonates, a heartbreakingly raw tale of teen suicide, loneliness, social media fake news and ultimately, flawed redemption.

Dear Evan Hansen is a genre-bending musical, with Grammy-winning music and lyrics by Benj
Pasek and Justin Paul (the writing duo behind the songs in the films La La Land and The
Greatest Showman) and book by playwright Steven Levenson.

Set against the backdrop of the social media age, with ever-changing screens depicting the
relentless power of online “community,” Dear Evan Hansen manages to be both high tech and
low touch at the same time. The show tells the tale of an awkward and lonely teenager who feels
unseen and unimportant. When his classmate Connor Murphy dies by suicide, a misunderstanding about their relationship leads Connor’s parents to Evan, who perpetuates what starts as a little white lie, but blows up into a complex web of deceit.

Actor/singer Jacob Morris rises to the challenge as the show’s angst-ridden main character.
Morris has a strong, expressive voice, owning the show’s heart-tugging anthems while perfectly
embodying the nervous tics of a broken, isolated teen.

The stakes are high. While Evan manages to eventually do the right thing, it’s hard to cheer him on as he perpetuates the lie. He’s clearly embracing the charades limelight, but then again, this is a kid who nobody ever noticed. Morris mines Evan’s sensitive core, keeping it real through a roller coaster of emotions.

Morris is matched by a consistently strong ensemble, with shout outs to stirring performances by
Lewis as Connor and Ruby Rae Levin, as his tough yet vulnerable sister Zoe. Ryan Reilly is wonderful as the jammed up, grief-stricken dad Larry Murphy. When he sings To Break in a Glove to Evan, both characters are shattered by loss and wishing for what will never be. Ashley Lemmler delivers a strong performance as Evan’s mother Heidi, an over worked single mom who sings a showstopping version of the poignant ballad, So Big/So Small.

There were lots of sniffling and passed tissues on opening night. Dear Evan Hansen is a long and intense performance that rings true in an age where everybody else seems to be living their best
life on Instagram and TikTok, leaving so many of people of all ages “On the outside, always
looking in,” just one of the powerful lines in the first act anthem, “Waving Through a Window.” It's is a profound musical that rings true for anyone who's ever felt unseen in a crowded room.
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That it’s onstage at Rivertown is a big deal. The licensing company reached out to the Kenner
theater, asking director Kelly Fouchi to present the first non-replica production in the U.S. Instead of this being a bus-and-truck traveling version of the original, Fouchi and her team were able to flex their own creative muscles. The company offered fresh aspects to the production, including stunning digital screens recreating school and home settings as the story unfolds. Scenic designer Ben Needham and lighting designer Gabby Brown created an eye-popping, high-tech context for a story that literally unspools screen by screen.

Bryce Slocumb co-directs with Fouchi, who also choreographs. Musical director Elise Spurlock
and the band of musicians did a bang-up job with this gorgeous score, with Mathieu Silverman.
conducting and on keyboard. Never mind if there were times when the balance of sound seemed off - hanging on every word goes with the territory for this gorgeous heartbreaker of a musical.

Dear Evan Hansen plays through Sept 28th at Rivertown Theatres. Click here for more information and ticketing. 

Beth D'Addono is a culture and food writer - her newest book, 'City Eats: New Orleans' - is out now. (Read our review)
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​Out Cry: the Two-Character Play
Lower Depths Theatre at Loyola University
Review by Dorian Hatchett

The best way to turn a palace into a prison is to lock the doors.  Out Cry: the Two-Character Play by Tennessee Williams examines the compulsion of the artist to create art, and the inherent fragility of the human psyche.  

Endless poetry written in praise of the adaptability and kindness of the human heart completely discounts the truth. That for every love sonnet or ballad of fortitude, there's a sinister library of loss and depravity. Our hearts are monsters. That's why our ribs are cages.  

Tracey E. Collins is Clare. She's forceful and vibrant and hyperbolic and made of fear and bravado in equal measure. Her and her brother are trapped in the vicious cycle of the poor artist. The need to perform, to create, to produce is constant and endless. Without creating, there is no audience. Without an audience, the actor is alone and hungry with only their own thoughts to keep them company.  

Kyle Daigrepont is Felice. He is secretive and steadfast. He sees his sister's whimsy as weakness. His creativity stems from a deep well of responsibility, and like so many men, he considers himself rational. He's not, of course, but instead has convinced himself that his emotions are simply factual rather than facetious.  

Out Cry is among the most rarely staged of Williams’ work. He rewrote it constantly, from the first draft in 1966, to a second and third version in 1975. The demands of such intensity and deep range on a cast of two makes it difficult to cast and even more difficult to perform. Collins and Daigrepont are sublime in their roles.

At times hard to watch, simply overwhelmed in second hand desperation, the rapt audience seemed acutely aware that what they were watching was the active dissembling of two people, broken again and again on the wheel of creative license and expectation, and sharing something that may be folie à deux, or may just be aching truth.

The line between character and actor is blurred time and time again, as the play within a play flows back and forth between Felice and Clare and their character's needs on the stage within a stage, and the personal triumphs and sorrows of the actors playing them, on the stage that is their lives.

The final, quiet resolution to simply continue the play, because nothing ever ends, is distressing, but also allows the audience and actor alike to let go of the responsibility of knowing, and move on to acceptance. To get lost in this play is an honor, but also a pyrrhic victory of the highest order. The stage may be a prison for the actor, but Out Cry takes no prisoners.  

Out Cry: the Two Character Play runs through September 21st at the Lower Depths Theatre at Loyola University. Click here for more information and ticketing

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Ms. Holmes and Ms. Watson - APT 2B
Presented by Crescent City Stage at Loyola’s  Marquette Theatre
Review by David S. Lewis

Plenty of games are afoot in this rather slapstick take on the legendary detective. Playwright and actor Kate Hamill’s post-Covid resetting of Sherlock’s London is achieved with lush set design and lighting: colors are saturated, costumes razor sharp, Rachmaninoff loud (as was the Stravinsky), and famous duo Sherlock and Watson are women(!). 

This one is meant to be fun. The writing does less work to convince you that a great mystery is being unraveled by clinically astute deduction…in fact, for fans of the original denizens of Baker Street, these crimes solve themselves on somewhat familiar lines, nearly identical. But we do have two actors, Jarrod Smith (primarily Detective Lestrade) and Sarah Colbert Cutrer (primarily Irenne Adler) playing multiple characters, giving the small cast a frenetic pace and ample opportunity to show off their acting chops. 

Brittany Chandler’s comic sidekick Joan Watson is given an interesting update from the original’s army veteran. Every Watson has had to decide how much to lean into the corn, from Basil Rathbone’s utterly bumbling Nigel Bruce to Martin Freeman’s decidedly less self-effacing take in the BBC serial. Chandler hopes to split the difference, but brings tremendous physicality to the comic portions of her turn as the doctor.

Lorene Chesley’s Sherlock offers a vivacious rendition of the eagle-eyed and unrelenting consulting detective. Her Sherlock is high-energy, bounding about the stage with a saber rather than pensively sawing a violin. She avoids the frigidity sometimes draping the character and replaces it with nigh-manic energy. The deerstalker hat makes its inevitable appearance, but she’s less to blame than Rathbone and a general confusion over early 20th century English countryside garb. 

Director Elizabeth Elkins Newcomer is at the helm of her fourth production for Crescent City Stage, and although this is a light work, she is making use of the entire stage, as well as the projection screen behind it. There’s a lot of low-hanging fruit on this one, and Newcomer, a gifted actor in her own right, has made use of the entirety of playwright Kate Hamill's text. 
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For a gender-fresh take on the famous detective and a fast-paced evening of light theater, this one will be hard to beat, even if hardcore fans of the famous duo might wish for something that feels a little fresher yet.

Ms. Holmes and Ms. Watson - APT 2B runs at the Marquette Theatre at Loyola through September 14th. Click here for more information and ticketing. 

Highest 2 Lowest
Review by Jeff DeRouen

Like 2006’s Inside Man, Spike Lee’s new joint, Highest 2 Lowest, starts out as an action movie but ends its story as a fully formed allegory about morality and what we owe to each other on this planet.

Lee is an expert in taking a high-concept thriller (which he executes brilliantly) and then, at the end of the movie, he drops us into his own moral universe where the auteur is not afraid to tell us, in no uncertain terms, what he believes and where he thinks the world should go.

Lee’s frequent collaborator, Denzel Washington (who was robbed of an Oscar for Malcolm X), plays music mogul David King, a fading talent trying to get back on top, even though it may be time to pass the baton, sit back, and enjoy his money.

David wants to interrupt the pending sale of his label, so he makes a risky move to get his company back, forcing him to leverage all his family’s finances. We see David slowly building the stakes of the movie (the deals, the promises, the risks) and Washington plays him cool like cucumber and mayonnaise noodle salad despite the enormous weight on his shoulders. David’s best laid plans are shot to hell, of course, when a loved one is kidnapped and held for ransom, putting his family and everything he's worked for in jeopardy.

I don’t want to spoil any of the plot details except to say that the movie moves at a clip and shows off some of Spike Lee’s best work. There is a “money drop” sequence set to the music of Eddie Palmieri that is absolutely thrilling and worth the price of admission alone.

There is also no question at this point: Spike Lee is THE New York City filmmaker. He adores the place and shoots the hell out of it; the Big Apple hasn’t looked this gorgeous on screen in a very long time. The cinematography alone is a VERY good reason (here we go) to get up, put on PANTS, and go OUT to the movies to see this limited run in the biggest way you can before the movie moves to AppleTV.

The Prytania Uptown is, for my money, the best screen in New Orleans (beautiful 4K laser projection and Dolby Atmos sound) and starting this weekend, they’ll be playing Highest 2 Lowest alongside the film it’s based on, Akira Kurosawa’s classic High and Low. It’s an amazing opportunity to see two masters of cinema at the top of their game working with their muses, Denzel Washington and Toshiro Mifune.

Is Highest 2 Lowest one of Spike’s masterpieces like Malcolm X or Do the Right Thing? Well, that’s for you to decide. In the end, the movie’s message may be a little too on the nose and perhaps heavy-handed to be held alongside those sophisticated works, but it’s authentic, very entertaining, and full of terrific performances (Geoffrey Wright has that supporting Oscar in his crosshairs, friends). I like that Spike still has something to say and knows how to say it loudly and with pride and, you know what? He ain’t wrong.

For showtimes at the Prytania Theatre, click here

Weapons
Review by Jeff DeRouen

Zach Cregger’s new movie, Weapons, is a delightfully disturbing and wicked little tale of a small town thrown into turmoil when a classroom of small children vanishes. Each kid inexplicably, and at the same time, got out of their beds while everyone slept, walked out of their homes, and then ran until they disappeared into the night.

The mystery and how it affects the people of the small town is broken into chapters to give us six separate points of view of the events that unfold. The always exceptional Julia Garner plays the maligned teacher of the kids who’ve disappeared and is now under suspicion by everyone in town. She joins forces with the father of one of the missing kids (a powerful and moving performance by James Brolin) to solve the mystery and, as each chapter goes by, we go further and further into the darkness until it all comes full circle in a shockingly hilarious (in a horror movie?!) and totally satisfying ending.

Plenty of the terminally online will fight with each other over the term “elevated horror” because, I guess, some people need to create a whole new genre to single out the best product. Some folks have not and will not ever give horror its due as a genre with bold ideas and artistic legitimacy. The genre, though, should be irrelevant in our expectations of a well-made film that holds our attention because of how it tells the story and doesn’t glide by with cheap and cliché elements.

That’s not to say there aren’t jump scares here (there are and they WORK) but they are not cheap. The scares add to what are already exquisitely orchestrated scenes that maximize the edge Cregger knows he’s brought us to.

Is there a deeper meaning to Weapons? Maybe! I don’t want to build it up so much that it doesn’t meet the hype, but it’s a great story whose first goal is entertainment and Cregger has a deep respect for the audience and what we THINK we want. It’s thrilling, funny, creepy, and gives Amy Madigan (whose character I wouldn’t dream of spoiling here) a platform to return to the big screen and deliver an insanely brilliant performance that should absolutely be given awards consideration.

Weapons is EXACTLY the kind of movie I want to see: an original story told with expertly crafted filmmaking and terrific performances. I love where the horror genre is today and I look forward to going where visionaries like Zach Cregger want to take us because, honestly, it was really fun to scream out loud in a movie theater again.

Movie Review: The Naked Gun
By Jeff DeRouen

Let me be absolutely clear: I adore disgusting jokes. For folks like me, there is no bar too low when it comes to what will elicit fits of laughter from us so jolting we struggle to contain our loud accidental farts like the character on screen trying to hilariously outrun the chili dog runs.

I know this truth about myself because I am the primary source, the living data, telling you that The Naked Gun is so funny, the aforementioned “hypothetical” could happen to you. Liam Neeson and Pamela Anderson lead a pack of serious actors like Paul Walter Hauser, Danny Huston, and CCH Pounder, who completely commit to some of the stupidest, funniest, bits and jokes I’ve seen in a movie in years.

A reboot like this could have been a lazy retread, but director Akiva Schaffer manages to stick to the old playbook (smartly) and keep the material fresh. Please don’t think I’m hailing this movie as a comedy masterpiece or a work of cinematic importance; it’s not, and that’s part of the charm. The Naked Gun isn’t meant to change your life, just your day.

I hope that folks use this film as an opportunity to forget about all the pain in the world, the difficulty of making ends meet, and the constant onslaught of political propaganda. It’s ok to step out of the real world for a bit to find some joy, and The Naked Gun is a surefire way to make you smile – especially if you think poop is funny.