Fringe review: ‘Dancing Nude,’ Tim Mooney, Arlington Heights, Ill.
By Elizabeth Maupin
Maybe Timothy Mooney should be called the Orlando Fringe’s jack of all trades: He’s delivered a sci-fi thriller, sung karaoke and performed Moliêre (twice). Now he has joined the legions of the Fringe’s naked guys with Dancing Nude, an autobiographical look at sex that may tell you way more than you want to know.
Mooney is a likable, bookish-seeming guy who leans toward speaking in verse: His monologues in Dancing Nude are separated by little bits of iambic octameter (although I may not have counted right), and even his conversational prose sounds a bit professorial. But his subject matter definitely is not. It’s his own sex life, beginning at the age of six (when a playmate seemingly seduced him behind the bushes) and stretching onward and upward through relationship after relationship.
The focus is on hydraulics, as Mooney puts it, and that focus may be way too much for you if, like me, you think of other people’s sex lives as other people’s business. But the gist of the show is that, as he talks, he takes off his clothes, from parka and sweater on down. Toward the end, he asks his theatergoers if they want him to continue; at the performance I saw, a few men finally spoke up and said yes.
To Mooney, it seems, his nudity is freeing; to others, maybe, not so much. But Dancing Nude did lead me to develop one key Fringe principle: If people are going to get naked, I’d rather they be people I don’t know.
Remaining shows: 8:50 p.m. Monday 5/24, 10:20 p.m. Wednesday 5/26, 5:45 p.m. Thursday 5/27, 11:15 p.m. Saturday 5/29. Pink venue.