JUMP

When I left Amber behind, I went to a show called JUMP.

The show's website is here.

I've been a fan of martial arts action comedy since watching my first Jackie Chan film (Operation Condor, rented on VHS sometime in the mid 90s) and I think Wheels on Meals is somewhere between comedy gold and pure artistic genius.

So Jump, with its over-the-top, scriptless style and constant blending of humour and stuntwork, sounded like fun. The basic premise was that there is a family of martial artists: a daughter who does wushu, a father who does kung fu, a mother who does TKD, a drunken uncle (guess), and a grandfather (a master of the fighting and esoteric arts. In the first act, they go through a comedy bit where a young man (a bespectacled and cowardly geek who magically transforms into a womanizing Bruce Lee when his glasses are removed) comes to court the daughter of the family. In the second, the courting is turned into high comedy, and random training sessions are performed, and in the third, a couple of criminals break in, and a massive fight breaks out in the house.

I should have remembered the universal constant of such shows: that audience members will be selected and solicited, and consequently made part of the show.

I bought my ticket for the show about an hour in advance, then wandered around until I found a food place that was devoid of a menu of any kind, and pointed at something being fried on a large hibachi style flat grill. In exchange, I got a plate of really amazing pancake like things with vegetables in them for about 6 bucks. It was there that I learned that in some restaurants, they don't bring you water, but the water *IS* freely available. There are small metal cups and a water dispenser near the entrance, and you just get up and get your own water. When in Rome, shrug and follow the lead the locals give you.

Anyway, following my fantastic dinner, I went to the show. The theatre was the medium size dramatic stage size used by most off-broadway playhouses, capable of holding perhaps 300 or 400 people. It was about 70% full when 8pm rolled around.

I heard a small commotion on my row, before the house lights dimmed, and looked down the row to see an 'elderly' Asian man, made up to be appear in his 80s, making a fuss by squeezing by everyone to my left. I was sitting four seats in from the right, with all of those seats unoccupied. I stood as he shuffled past me, affecting tremendous age and stiffness. The audience was already amused by his antics, the tiny grunts and whimpers that accompanied each movement making it seem as if every action was an agony of stiff joints and arthritic tendons.

As I sat back down, he turned around, and made a beckoning motion for me to rise again.

I stood, and raised my eyebrows. He made a comment to the audience, and they laughed. I assume it was something about my size. No other foreigners were present, and with my boots on I towered over him and most of the people there by at least a foot.

He beckoned me to the end of the row. I'd gotten a pretty good seat, so it was only about five rows from the stage. He pointed, to the step in front of him, and I laughed knowing what was coming. I knelt down in a posture where I could easily absorb the weight, and he climbed on my back. I chuckled and stood up, and he pointed forward, as if he were commanding an elephant into battle, with a command, and I walked the few steps to the steps onto the stage. He had me turn around, and he climbed down onto the first step. I made a confused "what did I expect?" sortof face at the audience and shrugged, and they laughed again. He gave me a piece of candy as a thank you, and I chuckled and headed back to my seat.

I figured that was the end of it, In my experience, shows that break the fourth wall rarely re-use the same person twice.

The little follow-along writeup in the brochure (to make up for the absence of any real lines in the show), called for a scene in the middle called "training." It suggested that a couple of people might be summoned to help the family of martial artists practice.

So during the second act, the grandfather wanders out into the audience to help locate a suitable master to help him teach his family.

Without even really pretending to look elsewhere, he arrives on my row, and looks at me with a smile. As I'm an incorrigible ham, I don't put up any complaints, I dutifully follow him out into the aisle, where he asks if I like sport ("a little." "Yes or no only please!" "ok, yes!") and asks to test my martial arts prowess, then throws he slowest, most polite hammerfist strike with his fan that ever has ever been seen. I block it, and can't control the instinct to roll my hand over so that I'm controlling the fan at the end of the strike. He makes a comment to the audience in Korea, and the laughter indicates that it is about what a powerful master of kung fu I am, for blocking such a fast strike.

Laugh, and the world laughs with you. So I make another "who me?" shrug to the audience, and they laugh.

He has me follow him, now, to the stage, where I find out the floor is the springiest, thickest crash mat I've ever touched. I'm immediately tempted to breakfall, because hell, you could do it wrong and post directly on your elbow and probably still be fine. I resist the urge.

He asks me to follow along, and the drunken uncle steps forward, and demonstrates a nice high front kick.

I oblige, trying to reign in the viability of the kick since (A) I'm in two pound boots and I like my knees undamaged and (B) this is JUMP, not "hey guess what you just accidentally invited an asshole who thinks he knows martial arts onto your stage!"

The audience gasps a little, I guess in surprise at the kick's height? I dunno, it was only to chest level? Then again, my chest is basically the face level of the entire cast, so maybe that was a factor?
The Drunken uncle laughs, motions for me to mimic, and then does a monkey roll forward, then a slow, controlled backroll through a handstand back to standing position.

Monkey rolls are easy, on this floor, criminally so. Back rolls I've always sucked at, and backroll through a handstand? Not on your life.

The audience chuckles, assuming of course that I'll be at a loss and refuse to attempt it. Instead, I figure, what the hell, you're only in this kindof situation once, so I take off my glasses and hand them to the grandfather, The audience laughs in surprise. The grandfather looks at me like I'm mortally touched in the head.

I perform my best monkey roll, then backfall and flounder on the ground for a moment.

The audience exhibits a nice mixture of polite applause and relieved "oh good he's not a ninja or anything" laughter.

I get up, perform my little "who me?" shrug again, milking the laugh because, hell, it's comedy, and if they brought me up here to make fun of somebody, the least I can do is get a few digs in for myself.

So, next, the grandfather nodds gravely and saays. "FIGHT!" I looked at Uncle, sure that there would be no attempt at actually having me pretend to fight with anyone in the cast, and curious how they would get out of it.

Uncle stood spread eagle, like a person going through airport security, and father, with a very serious expression, patted down his whole body, obviously the make sure there were no plans at cheating or using a weapon. Uncle was clean.

I nodded and mimicked Uncle's posture. The thought flashed through my mind that in addition to wallet, cell phone, and keys I was carrying a rather wicked looking little pocket knife, a constant companion when I travel, that comes in handy more often than one can count. I hadn't had time to slip it in my backpack before going to the stage, and I was concerned that they would find it. I needn't have worried.

As I looked out at the audience, Father (now patting my left leg), pulled an oversized woodsman's axe from my pocket and stared at it incredulously. He looked at me indignantly, and in a flurry of activity mother and daughter had frisked me and found in my other pockets a length of heavy metal chain, and screwdriver (!) and, as the coup de grace, a full sized Chinese Broadsword.

I stared at them in surprise, and in a flash, the entire cast was cowering on the other side of the stage, and I found that during the commotion the giant Chinese blade had been pressed into my right hand. The other weapons were scattered around my feet.

I couldn't resist, so I swapped the sword to my left hand, and twirled it, just once, in a circle.

They looked at me, and in unison said "hey man!" (giant pause) "relax!"

It reminded me a lot of the vocal delivery used by the performers at renaissance festivals, the affected nasal surprise and false intimidation were the same. The audience roared.

I laughed, and affected an air of complete innocence, putting my feet together and standing up straight like a schoolchild, smiling sweetly and placing the sword carefully on the floor as if I knew I wasn't supposed to ever touch such things.

They came back over then, slapped me on the back, had me take a bow, and gave me a free T-shirt.

I laughed my way through the third act with the rest of the audience. The show was great and the stuntwork, especially at the end, was top notch. At the end of the night, I discovered that the entire cast hangs around and signs autographs for the fans. In addition, I discovered that the show posters were 1,000 won--about 80 cents. So I bought a poster and went through the line, getting signatures from everyone in the cast and the pictures with Grandfather and Uncle, that you can see above.

All in all, it was a charming and hilarious show, and if you like Jackie chan, and you've got $40 to spare and a free night in Seoul, I recommend it pretty highly.

Tomorrow: Museums, Tae Kwon Do, Korean Chess, Prisons, Concerts, and Seoul Tower--what a day!