By Dale King
It’s said that truth can be stranger than fiction. In the hands and mind of comedian Brad Zimmerman, truth is not only stranger, but is certainly a whole lot funnier, than fiction.
Zimmerman, an ordinary-looking guy with a whip-crack wit, has been taking his production of My Son, the Waiter: A Jewish Tragedy to various South Florida venues. It finally landed at the Broward Stage Door Theater in Coral Springs, where the reaction has been so positive that the show has been extended more than a month, to May 26.
The presentation is a hybrid of stand-up comedy and slice-of-life drama. While many plays have been written about the foibles of growing up Jewish, Zimmerman’s 90-minute, no-intermission performance doesn’t depend on Hebrew traditionalism, Yiddish oratory or Catskills shtick. This is not your father’s Jack E. Leonard.
Zimmerman doesn’t just tell jokes. He recalls situations in his life that are so ludicrous, they’re laughable. His perfect comic timing and delivery take the audience for a walk on the wildly funny side, and he often has to remind them that what he is saying is true.
In My Son the Waiter: A Jewish Tragedy, Zimmerman weaves an intricate and often bittersweet tale of one man’s long, uphill struggle to make it as an actor in New York, despite his family’s misgivings and his own miscues. His homey send-ups focusing on his childhood, relatives, career and misbegotten love life are as poignant as they are hilarious.
A member of the New York Friars Club, Zimmerman has helped roast numerous high-profile celebrities. The comic has also worked with some of the most recognizable names in the business, even opening for the likes of George Carlin and Joan Rivers. And he actually did achieve the status of actor when he appeared as Johnny Sack’s lawyer, Ron Pearse, on the hit HBO series, The Sopranos.
So why, you might ask, is his humor so self-deprecating? Clearly, Zimmerman tapped into a vein heavy with grist for humor during his years of trying without success to become an actor, of working as a waiter for 29 years to make ends meet and dealing with his mom and dad who, in apparently typical Jewish fashion, encouraged him in odd ways to better himself. At age 56, Zimmerman has clearly come to grips with what he really wants to do in life – and to accept what has happened along the way as spiritual water under the bridge.
To open the show, Zimmerman enters the stage quietly. He tells the audience he has no opening act, so he will do it himself. He tells two jokes, and the audience is warmed up and prepped for 89 more minutes.
The showman is dressed all in black — T-shirt, slacks and Nike sneakers, which look new. The stage is bare except for a small, round table covered with a black cloth. An opened folding chair is next to it. On the table are a trophy and a half-full bottle of drinking water. He takes a single swig during the entire production. Behind him is a screen showing the logo of My Son the Waiter. Various designs and colors drift in and out as the show progresses.
Immediately, the audience is tuned in to this man they never met. His jokes about his life resonate with the gallery’s own experiences. “I don’t like 2013, it’s too high-tech,” he says. “I liked 1971. In 1971, the only problems I had were a gearshift and Amy Saperstein’s bra.”
He even points out that some people have told him he should show slides during the show. To demonstrate, he closes his hand around a non-existent remote control. Click. Zimmerman points to the screen and says: “This is me serving veal piccata.”
The stage is fully lighted, but the kliegs dim or narrow depending on the star’s mood. Lighting designer Ardean Landhuis’ work is subtle and unintrusive.
While the evening is billed as “a Jewish tragedy,” it doesn’t require Hebrew roots. Everyone laughs, no matter what their faith or creed. This is a performance for anyone who aspires to get the most out of their talents and is willing to stay the course.
The comedian talks about his early skills as an athlete (hence, the trophy on the table), and his father’s attendance at various games, yelling: “Atta boy, Zimmie, atta boy Zimmie.”
He took that head of steam and put it into a quest for an acting career, but the steam sputtered out. Acting classes gave way to stand-up comedy classes and his work as a waiter completed the triangle. At some point in life, he decided that on-the-job training actually generated more material than any classroom experience.
Zimmerman’s show is an absolute must-see. You’ll laugh, and you’ll walk out of Theater No. 2 with a lesson: If you can find something that you truly love, it gives your life meaning.
My Son, the Waiter is playing through May 26 at the Stage Door Theatre, 8036 W. Sample Road, Coral Springs. Tickets are $38 and available by calling (954) 344-7766 or visiting www.stagedoorfl.org.