COMEDY REVIEW : Gallagher Overstays His Welcome in Big, Long Anaheim Show

If you had to distill Gallagher’s performing philosophy down to one phrase, it would be: Nothing succeeds like excess. Of course, it’s difficult to distill much of anything about the mustachioed comic, given his very tendency to operate on such a sweeping scale.

Everything’s big. He plays big venues, such as Anaheim’s 2,500-seat Celebrity Theatre, where he performed Friday night.

He has a big following: Friday’s show was the first of three sold-out nights at the Celebrity.

Most of his props are big, from the enormous squirting bunny he sprayed the audience with in the opening minutes Friday to the oversized mallet--Sledge-O-Matic, in Gallagher lingo--he used in his characteristic (food)-smashing finale.

And, just in terms of time, his shows are pretty big. Although there was an intermission, Gallagher was on stage for a total of 2 1/2 hours. During the second half--which frequently dragged--he snickered that other comedians don’t perform as long as he does.

But there’s a reason that Jay Leno, Jerry Seinfeld, and others who could do that much time, don’t: It’s simply much too long to sit listening to one guy tell jokes. This show provided a perfect Exhibit A of the way that more is often less in stand-up comedy.

Not only were people shifting in their seats and looking weary toward the end of Friday’s marathon, but Gallagher caught someone--who had earlier been one of the more vocal audience members--dozing. (To his credit, he immediately abandoned the bit he was delivering and moved right into the Slege-O-Matic close.)

The truly unfortunate aspect of the excessive length (and slightly surprising aspect, for those comedy buffs who look down their noses at Gallagher): If he had cut his stage time in half, focusing on his best material--or just stopped after the show’s much stronger first half--his set would have been comparable to those presented by stand-up’s most respected figures.

In the early portion of the show, Gallagher concentrated on topical material, while also subtly pleading his case as a regular Joe who happened to be holding the microphone. Indeed, more than any other high-profile comic working today, Gallagher appeals to the working-class, blue-collar segment of the population (which partly explains the massive size and scope of his constituency).

“I drove here tonight in my own damn truck.” Not a limo. Not even a car. A truck. Now maybe he really did drive down in a truck. But either way, the message was pretty clear: I’m just like you--I am you--and what you see is what you get.

He also launched an assortment of bipartisan barbs, occasionally hitting targets that seemed too esoteric--like the relationship between super-delegates and Jesse Jackson’s campaign.

On the other hand, later--after traipsing through all manner of absurd observations and demonstrating some of his screwier props--he backed into a political bit that was a direct hit. After he said that “in America, we need leaders,” someone called out that Gallagher should be President.

He instantly responded: “I can’t be the President; I smoke dope. . . . You don’t get ideas like this from cups of coffee. And we sure as hell can’t have our President stoned. Hell, what might he do? Spend all the money? Send our troops where they don’t belong? Think of Star Wars (systems)? . . . Take naps? Knock off early? Forget (things)?”

Big response.

Gallagher also came up with some neat verbal and observational things worthy of any top monologuist. These ranged from pithy thoughts (“Plea bargaining--now what is that? That means that you could be guilty of something else if they like you”) to Carlin-esque fun with language (you “park on the driveway, (but) drive on the parkway?”) to delightful silliness (“Why did God make flying squirrels? So they could swoop down and surprise acorns?”)

And, of course, there were lots of props. Gallagher is probably the foremost practitioner of prop comedy, which sounds more impressive than it is, considering that prop comedy is generally denigrated in stand-up circles. (When was the last time you saw a prop comic on “Letterman”?)

The attitude is that someone who performs comedy with props is akin to the way Rosie Ruiz runs marathons: You still arrive at the punch line--or finish line--but it’s kind of like taking a bus to get there.

At least Gallagher’s approach is fairly inventive: When he spoke about building a better mousetrap, he produced a somewhat involved contraption he designed to reduce the rodent population. Similarly, some of his other more successful props operated as both verbal and visual puns, such as his Rolodex watch.

Ironically, one of the finer prop-related moments was unintentional: While standing on one side of the stage, Gallagher spied an audience member on the opposite side aiming the squirting rabbit toward him. He chided the unsuccessful assailant: “Oh, yeah--like I’d leave a loaded bunny over there,” a line that drew loud laughter, applause and screams.

But, as the evening turned into something of an endurance test, the appeal of his props--and the presentation itself--wore very thin. For all the lowbrow shenanigans involved, one was actually thrilled to see him bring out the trusty old Slege-O-Matic and start squashing assorted food items, simply because it signalled the end of the show. Finally .