STAGE REVIEW : Penn & Teller--Running on Empty

For years now, Penn & Teller have been opening their act with the line, “We’re just a couple of eccentric guys who’ve learned to do a few cool things,” but when they opened it Tuesday at the handsome Wiltern Theatre in Los Angeles, they made it literal.

This latest edition of their show is not called “The Refrigerator Tour” for nothing. They start it by dropping a refrigerator on themselves. Why are we not surprised?

Good question. Something of a cold wind was blowing through the act Tuesday. Electricity, suspense, freshness were gone--with the wind. What with TV specials, talk show spots, Broadway fame and several sweeps through the Southland behind them, Penn & Teller are not the new kids on the block. We’re on to them. A partially new repertoire, which is what they have here, doesn’t quite cut it. They need a totally new one.

The repertoire delivered at the Wiltern is wilting. We’ve already seen the guys hawk their wares after the show in the lobby. We’ve seen more levitation acts and Houdini boxes than we can shake a fakir at; we’ve seen (and seen) the long-winded darts-and-bible trick, and we’ve overdosed on Mofo the psychic gorilla. Even the kid on stage Tuesday was hip to so-so Mofo (and what was that peripheral business with a lady named Porsche and her Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle artifacts?).

The demystification of magic has always been and still is Penn & Teller’s big staple--that, Teller’s second-banana silence and Penn’s garrulous, browbeating style, which audiences love to love (even if it is showing its age with such expressions as “bitchin’ ” and “megaboss”). Psychologically, people like being shown how the magicians do it, and they get a slight buzz from nuzzling up to Penn Jillette’s Big Grizzly approach. But it too needs recharging. Down fresher avenues.

The best new items on this old menu are a slick demonstration of how you cut a human body in three (we won’t tell), and another showing how you drop an anvil on a sitting duck. Something similar to dropping a refrigerator on sitting comedians. We care more about the duck because it’s cuter. Penn & Teller use a supercharismatic duck that has perfected an irresistible dive into a brown paper bag--and does it twice, proving that its comic style is no mere accident.

Of the older items, this writer’s favorites remain the less flashy, seemingly timeless ones: Teller swallowing all those needles and regurgitating them neatly threaded--and the flower whose shadow bleeds when its leaves are cut. Visual poetry.

A new finale involving animal traps (and so far seen only on television) is scary but dubious. In a way, these jokers hoist themselves with their own petard: They’re so good at showing us how so much of the magic by “tuxedo-clad rabbit-tuggers” is done, that a little figuring out on this one goes a long way.

But mum’s the word. There may, after all, be some some Rip Van Winkle out there who has never seen Penn & Teller. The rest of us will pray for new astonishment and better browbeating.

* “Penn & Teller,” (Wiltern Theatre, 3790 Wilshire Blvd., Los Angeles Wednesdays-Fridays, 8 p.m.; Saturdays, 7 and 10:30 p.m.; Sunday, 2 and 7 p.m.; Dec. 30, 2 p.m.; Dec. 31, 7 and 11 p.m. Ends Dec. 31. $22.50-$27.50 (except Dec. 30, $30; Dec. 31, $37.50); (213) 380-5005). Running time: 2 hours, 5 minutes.