Linked by Sound, Mime and Body

“Ironing or not?” asks David Collins, half of the frenetic Australian comic duo known as the Umbilical Brothers, as a visitor breaks up a brainstorming session.

Irony? Maybe it’s some sort of statement about his and Shane Dundas’ show “Thwak”? But in a beat, he’s whipped out an imaginary ironing board and iron, and his meaning is suddenly clear.

Turns out the Umbilicals are working on new material for “Thwak’s” Los Angeles run, playing at the Tiffany Theaters in West Hollywood after a highly acclaimed run off-Broadway.

So just what is “Thwak”? Mime with sound effects doesn’t go far enough. Dundas, who does most of the sound, calls it a human cartoon. Collins, who does most of the mime, calls it Bugs Bunny meets Jackie Chan meets his mother’s cooking. Some might call it mime as seen by Hunter S. Thompson with sound effects by Robin Williams after a double latte binge at Starbucks.

“I challenge anyone to define the show” even after having seen it, Dundas says.

This definitely isn’t your father’s mime. It may not even be your slightly older brother’s.

But the cartoon link is a strong one. With their wiry bodies and physics-defying moves, it’s easy to imagine Collins and Dundas morphing into Road Runner and Wile E. Coyote.

Indeed, the Umbilicals cite as inspiration old Warner Bros. cartoons, as well as silent movies, for the sheer “physical fearlessness” of the old-time actors.

The basic theme running through “Thwak” is sibling rivalry, with Collins, the younger Umbilical at 30, trying to wrest the microphone away from Dundas. Along the way are plenty of potshots at pop culture, from “Star Wars” to German performance art, all powered by Collins’ and Dundas’ physical and verbal virtuosity. Props are minimal but do include a couple of psychotic hand puppets.

“Sound is power,” Collins says, who’s quieter on stage but seems to do the most talking in the interview. “Whoever has the mike has the power.”

“They’re creating almost a new vaudeville,” says director Philip Wm. McKinley, whose credits include, appropriately enough, three editions of Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey’s “Greatest Show on Earth.”

“They are so in tune to each other,” he says. Collins and Dundas seem so connected during their performances that it’s possible to forget that there are two people on stage--or that one isn’t a puppet. That synergy is part of the reason for the name Umbilical Brothers. And that kind of link is necessary for an adrenaline-fueled performance like “Thwak.”

“I love their sensibilities,” McKinley says. “It’s interesting the way they’ve revitalized and renewed the art form of mime.”

The brothers’ goal with their fast-paced series of vignettes is high-octane entertainment, and they offer no apologies for any lack of depth.

“I’m seeing Savion Glover tonight,” Collins says. “I hope he has a message.”

If someone is doubled over with laughter, he adds, they’ve gotten the message.

In person, the brothers are thoughtful and well-spoken but seem almost subdued--especially when one is expecting the X Games of shtick. Maybe it was the sun-dappled tranquillity of a warm Saturday afternoon in the Cheviot Hills backyard of “Thwak” producers John Bard Manulis and Liz Heller.

Or maybe it was just jet lag.

The Umbilicals had just landed in L.A. after a break back home (Sydney for Collins and Canberra for Dundas) between the New York and Los Angeles runs. Qantas mascot aside, there’s not a koala bear fuzzy enough to soften the torture of a 14-hour Sydney-to-L.A. flight.

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The pair met about 10 years ago in a Sydney acting school. Dundas, who puts his age at mid-30s (“You can say mentally we’re 19 and 12”), explains their unique bonding experience: In a jazz dance class the pair had to do a routine that allowed some improvisation. Collins went for a karate kick and broke Dundas’ nose. “It was pushed to the side of my face,” Dundas says.

And in what sounds like a bad Foster’s beer commercial (“Snapped septum is Australian for jazz class, mate”), Collins, remembering advice from a teacher, thought the nose should be pushed back into place as quickly as possible. It wasn’t pretty.

But, Dundas says, “we’ve been friends ever since.”

“We got a very good mark on the routine,” Collins adds.

A lectern with a fixed microphone in another class--one with less bloodshed--led to the germination of the Umbilicals’ unique brand of comedy. Dundas was stuck at the mike, so Collins started moving around the podium to match his future brother’s sound effects.

But there was more method to this madness. “We wanted to drag mime into the new millennium,” Collins says, repeating a line from the show. “The answer was sound.”

But isn’t mime, like stretch pants, something better left in the last century?

Here, Collins bristles a bit. “I don’t want to put mime down,” he says, although the brothers don’t mind taking a few jabs at it during the show.

“We’re playing with perceptions,” Dundas says.

“It’s mime for the MTV generation,” Collins says.

Indeed, they played Woodstock last year, going over well on the main stage, but not so well on the second stage, where the audience was more interested in pounding guitars. “That may have been where the riot started,” Collins says under his breath.

The two eventually got bored with the acting classes. Not a good thing for the teachers when dealing with class clowns, especially ones this good at vocal gymnastics. “At one point they did try to separate us,” he admits.

They took their act from school to local comedy clubs, eventually ending up on the Australian version of “Star Search.” “We just did it to get the prize money,” Collins says. But they kept winning and being asked back.

“That forced us to invent more routines,” Dundas says.

Eventually the Umbilicals were doing comedy tours on several continents and performing at venues such as the Edinburgh Festival (where they won the Critics Choice award for comedy in 1995) and the Cologne Comedy Festival in Germany. They’ve also won the United Slapstick award in Germany and for the last five years have taken top honors with the Australian Entertainment Industry’s award for best comedy group.

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Even after having been on tour for about a year, the Umbilicals remain recognizable at home in Australia, partially due to their appearances in television commercials.

“We like doing ads,” Collins says. Thirty seconds is a good time period for a gag. In fact, he says, their show is “5,000 30-second bits.”

They’ve done a lot of other television too, most recently providing voices and sound effects for Nickelodeon’s popular animated series “Maisy,” based on the mouse character from Lucy Cousin’s books.

Producer Manulis, whose credits include “Swing Kids,” “Daybreak” and “Foxfire”--as well as a stint as head of filmed entertainment for Samuel Goldwyn Films--spotted the Umbilicals at the Edinburgh Festival in 1997.

“I actually waited for them after the show to tell them I’d love to bring them in,” Manulis says. “It was a very un-Hollywood thing to do.”

So “Thwak” came to New York. “It was a valuable challenge for us,” Dundas says, explaining that Australian audiences pretty much accept any gags as long as they’re funny. “American audiences prefer to have some context for the humor.”

That context doesn’t leave anyone out, though. “Thwak” is family entertainment--well, for most families--and the Umbilicals like it that way.

“We’ve seen three generations laughing at the same jokes, and that is joy to me,” Collins says.

It’s time for the brothers to get back to their Saturday afternoon brainstorming session. They’d like to add a few new routines for “Thwak’s” current run. But Collins’ ironing gag doesn’t make the cut.

After all, who irons in L.A.?

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“THWAK,” Tiffany Theaters, 8532 Sunset Blvd., West Hollywood. Dates: Wednesday-Friday, 8 p.m.; Saturday, 7 and 10 p.m.; Sunday, 3 p.m. Ends May 21. Prices: $35 to $45. Phone: (310) 289-2999.