Philly Fringe 2018: The Cambridge Footlights presents ‘Pillow Talk’

Pillow Talk's five performers, all barefoot and wearing pajamas, could become big stars someday, though this hit-and-miss show relies too much on forced audience participation and low-risk humor.

No instructions necessary

They introduce themselves — first names only — and set the rules: when lights come up, a sketch starts; when lights go out, it's over and we applaud. I'm glad there wasn't a quiz after the lesson, though they did make us practice several times to show that we understood.

Sketch comedy is a strange form, not seen much in Philadelphia. The best local practitioners are The Waitstaff, on hiatus this Fringe. Sketches resemble jokes acted out: quick setup and necessary facts build to a clear punchline. And, as we learned, we applaud.

Pillow Talk features 10 sketches in 60 minutes. Just as on Saturday Night Live, American TV's most visible sketch practitioners, not all succeed. That's the beauty of sketches and jokes, though: hilarious or flat, we're soon on to the next.

Examples include a James Bond bit that seems culturally stale but provides a common denominator of audience familiarity for a series of groan-inducing Bond film-title puns, e.g., "A License to Krill" (and Drill, and Grill), each cleverly set up. Some of the best sketches involve everyday experiences infused with something weird: a Parent-Teacher Association meeting agenda includes a bake sale, but also the nagging problem of the child-snatcher living in the playground maze. A goofy sketch about German bowlers probably plays better across the pond.

That sandwich with the steak and cheese

While many sketches are quick and fun, even when settling for easy chuckles (like a creepy bed-and-breakfast host offering lamb's anus and dog penis for breakfast), Pillow Talk also has too many audience-participation scenarios that, despite the cast's ad-libbing talents, just aren't as tight and funny as their scripted bits. The performers seemed wary, choosing the same people again when they found anyone willing to play along.

They explain a clever and useful list of British terms, from the innocuous "plaster" (for our "Band-Aid") to "wanking" (if you don't know, ask your parents). Their efforts to inject local references amused everyone, including a terrible South Philly accent and a mention of "steak-cheese sandwiches."

"We just arrived this afternoon," one actor explained. "We did it better in Texas."

The cast's enthusiasm and their skill with multiple UK accents (which we always love — don't pretend you don't) charmed us, and everyone laughed a lot. There were even a few brilliantly sublime moments opening night, like a sketch in which two ballerinas (played by men) skip stones across a pond, celebrating their successes with manic dancing rather than words. Despite the show’s flaws, maybe these kids could be famous someday.