The Broadway Theatre Review: Jeff Ross’ Take a Banana for the Ride
By Ross (no relation;)
Ready with my thick-skinned New York City attitude, I prepared myself for the infamous “Roastmaster General” and his barbed brand of “punching up” humor that lives within his Broadway show, Jeff Ross—Take a Banana for the Ride. And when that yellow-suited comedian, costumed by Toni-Leslie James (Broadway’s Redwood), made his way down the aisle after a parade of roasting video clips, I found myself surprised by where this stand-up solo show was planning on taking us. Running at Broadway’s Nederlander Theatre through September 28, Jeff Ross (“Jeff Ross Roasts Cops“) stands firm and upright, talking us through a deeply personal show, peppered with laughs, that is aimed at making us connect with the lives of the souls most important to Jeff Ross, the comedian. But more importantly to this fiddler accompanied origin story are the passings of those same people.
Connecting to mortality and the love he feels for those around him—including his parents, grandparents, and even a rescue dog that might have rescued him as much as he rescued it—Ross’s comedic journey is a love letter to those who shaped him. His jabs and punches, though not always landing in my own funny bone (as much as many around me), reveal the humor and heart behind a man who’s been navigating grief and memory, one joke at a time. Including that German Shepherd left in his backyard by an ex who knew he needed a friend during those COVID years.
For most of the audience, this was a deeply moving and funny show, but I found it somewhat pedestrian, and although amusing at moments, not as heartfelt or moving as the others that surrounded me. I smiled for the most part, wondering who was next in line for his sentimental treatment down memory lane, knowing what their outcome would be before he started to unpack his own brush with cancer that may have birthed this memory-laced show.
Directed casually by Stephen Kessler (“Paul Williams Still Alive“), Take a Banana for the Ride, named after Ross’s loving grandfather’s slice of nurturing wisdom, is a high-energy roast of all the lost loved ones in his life: his mother at the young age of 14; his father at 19; his grandfather, and his comedy family; Bob Saget, Gilbert Gottfried, and Norm Macdonald, all within a year. And that German Shepherd, which is the source and punchline of many of his jokes. This is the heart of this show, and it feels honest, clearly connecting to the comedian and to many of those who surrounded me. I appreciated many aspects of his remembrances overall, and although I was never bored or restless, I also wasn’t completely pulled in by his chronicles.
Backed by a family photo album projected sharply by Stefania Bulbarella (MTC’s Jaja’s African Hair Braiding), he pokes fun at his family members, his friends, and his own recent battle with colon cancer, roasting his own shape and style from beginning to end. Laughing and jabbing at pain is portrayed as his superpower against all obstacles, and although I smiled and giggled in moments of this casual standup show as he made his way around a couch and side table placed solidly center stage, stacked high with those ripe bananas, designed by Beowulf Boritt (Broadway’s POTUS), with lighting by Adam Honoré (Broadway’s Purlie Victorious) and sound by Daniel Lundberg (Off-Broadway’s Joy), I never really joined fully in with the Hebrew heavy hitting songs like “Don’t Fuck With the Jews,” accompanied by pianist and composer Asher Denburg and violinist Felix Herbst, and his low-brow Nazi jokes about his German dog. It all felt too easy or simple, delivered into the complicated air of our present world.
Maybe I wasn’t ready for this kind of frivolity, as I watch ICE take over the streets of Washington, DC. and the world falter against authoritarian and violent acts against humanity in similar ways and means. So, that said, maybe I wasn’t in the right frame of mind, or I wanted something sharper and smarter than these jabs. Even if they are his coping mechanisms against death and how he deals with mourning. I’m howling at the moon too, but with a whole different feeling.
