”This is no more a story about love than the Bible is a story about woodwork,” declares British comedian and monologist Daniel Kitson at the start of his new one-man show, It’s Always Right Now, Until It’s Later. It is a statement which is almost entirely misleading. Over the course of the next 90 minutes, Kitson will detail — and rarely has that word seemed more appropriate — the seemingly humdrum biographies of two presumably fictional characters, William Rivington and Caroline Carpenter. The pair do not fall in love. In fact, they don’t even meet in any real sense. Yet Kitson’s own obvious affection for his subjects and his sheer delight in reminding us about ”the glory and agony and tedium of being alive” result in a show filled with an infectious love for the concept of existence.
To say It’s Always Right Now… is a low-wattage affair is putting matters mildly, despite its creator’s imaginative use of 30-odd hanging lights which, in a literal sense, help illuminate the various chapters of his twin tales. Edinburgh Festival favorite Kitson does occasionally remind you that his background is in stand-up as when, after he informs us that one of his characters spent 127 days on the toilet, he adds, ”That’s overall, not in one harrowing incident.” There are also several humorous asides which reference Kitson’s speech impediment (”I do have a stutter. If it makes you feel even remotely uncomfortable, then you are a bigot. But it’s always good to find out something about yourself at the theater!”) For the most part, however, It’s Always Right Now… showcases Kitson’s beguiling skills as a miniaturist tale-teller, one who really does seem to gain as much pleasure from describing the tedium of, say, an old couple’s breakfast ritual as he does the glory of childbirth or the agony of informing a partner about a sexual infidelity. Kitson’s message is that everything contributes to life’s rich pageant. Certainly it has been enriched in some small way by this show. B
(Tickets: stannswarehouse.org or 718-254-8779)