The Disquieting

In some ways, Titus' account of 12-pack, muscle-car living in Alameda County has more in common with contemporary California literature than it does with contemporary comedy. He describes the kind of fool's Golden State recorded in some Sam Shepard plays and in Carolyn See's memoir, Dreaming - a California of addictions and violations that many of us have lived in longer, or at least seen closer up, than we may care to admit, and that seldom finds expression in Hollywood, much less on comedy stages. Because of this fact alone, Norman Rockwell Is Bleeding reveals a place and a time in which we live, something very few plays have been capable of doing lately.

Like all storytellers, comics and even diarists, Titus embellishes his life, and has created some fictional putty to connect its segments. (And despite its hair-raising moments, the show ends on a note of redeeming uplift.) All of which is to be expected from a seasoned performer, but is even less surprising here when we remember that Norman Rockwell Is Bleeding is, frankly, a showcase to gain the attention of TV people. Hopefully he will not let television soften and commodify his story, or his persona. For just as Titus' hard-hitting performance is a welcome relief from the parade of adorable complainers we've grown used to, so would his Mickey Spillane brand of comedy help clear the airwaves of its debilitating cleverness. If Seinfeld was the show about nothing, Titus' freebase mix of turmoil and glee is bound to teach us something - if only not to be a bunch of wussies. As he says, "If you are normal, people will accept you. But if you are deranged, they will make you their leader."