Can we talk to Judge Bryan Pope? Sure, but wake him up first.
You'll laugh until it hurts, then show your friends and laugh again.
Joan Rivers impersonating imitating today's waifish fashion model: "Does this tampon make me look fat?"
There. That's the one laugh I got out of River's 2005 show, taped live at the legendary London Palladium. I just saved you $15.
Still aLive at the London Palladium allegedly!, the packaging shouts at us. Not particularly clever, but you gotta give it points for honesty. This allegedly funny hour-long program showcasing an alleged comedienne who is allegedly at the top of her game is a comedy train wreck.
Where did our Joan go so wrong? Back in her heyday, she did the celebrity smackdown routine better than anyone. Her wicked dagger of a tongue used to waste no time knocking stars from their perches, from Elizabeth Taylor ("she's so fat she puts mayonnaise on an aspirin") to Bo Derek, from Mick Jagger to Steve Wonder ("who's going to tell him he's wearing a macramé plant holder on his head?").
But something is awry here. She's still down with the celebrity bit, this time taking shots at the likes of Liza's creepy ex and Charlton Heston, but the shots are cheap knockoffs of her earlier, better material (on the Bush daughters: "Their designated driver is Teddy Kennedy"). And when that well runs dry (and, really, how many good, original jokes are there about Paris Hilton?), she hits rock bottom with embarrassingly unfunny and looooooooong tirades about farts on vaginas (something about how women suction themselves to the ground by their vaginas to keep from falling over, or something like that, but must I go on?). Oh, grow up!
The worst part of it all—can we talk?—is that her audience of mostly gay men looks positively bored. Small wonder that Joan spends so much time heckling the crowd (not to mention her orchestra, which takes more than its share of grief from Ms. Big Mouth). I thought she was just padding her act, but she was trying to keep everyone from falling asleep. No dice. I lasted 40 minutes before drifting off.
I used to like Joan. I really did. But after one failed talk show, a decade panhandling for E!, and countless facelifts, she has become a tacky, tasteless, and nasty shadow of the tacky, tasteless, nasty but excruciatingly funny comedienne she once was.
So can we talk? No, Ms. Rivers, we can't. Because, quite frankly, you have nothing interesting left to say.
Joan Rivers: Live at the London Palladium is presented in a full-frame format with Dolby stereo sound. No subtitles, no extras.
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