Roasting Rhode Island Charlie Hall’s Ocean State Follies turns foibles into fun BY BILL RODRIGUEZ

Sometimes, when the casualness of the conflicts of interest in our state legislature, or the nepotism or outright corruption in Rogues Island gets you down, you might reflect on the bright side of all that. Namely, Charlie Hall’s Ocean State Follies.

As a recent performance in Warwick demonstrated, the eyes that roll at the latest news of public malfeasance today are right above the head-shaking smile that the recollection might induce tomorrow.

In the Chelo’s banquet hall, alongside Hall at a line of microphones were comics Doreen Collins, Jim Carroll, and Kristine Treglia. On keyboard and synthesized rim shots was Kathryn Chester.

It’s not all politics. There’s also the sort of stand-up audience-baiting shtick that you might hear in the Borscht Belt. (Who says Rhode Island comedians aren’t well-traveled?) As in: "Are those your good suspenders?" (Beat) "Anyone else here from Burrillville?" Followed by: "And you came all that way? What hotel you staying at?" Not to mention: "I was once stopped by the Burrillville cop . . . " And so on.

That aversion of Rhode Islanders to venturing to far corners of the state is one of many home-grown traits and foibles that were fair game. But mostly it was local notables who provided good sport. Poor Doug White, represented by Carroll in a white fur toupee. Poor Patrick Kennedy, a congressman for 10 years, but taken to task because "sometimes I act 8." Like when his date had to swim to shore from his boat. Or with that airport altercation during a security check. Hall explained it all succinctly, singing: "There is no end to my reign / When you’re rich as God / And everybody knows your name." And then there was poor Arlene Violet, with Collins sporting a Valkyrie helmet, cone bra, and goofy smirk.

Yes, sight gags abounded. A Big Blue Bug costume was enough reason for Hall to step out and not have to say anything particularly funny ("I just came back from the buffet at Home Depot"). He forgot the song at home, but he was dying to come out as the bug.

Actually, lame lines and groaners were the exception. The skewering of political figures and commiseration over only-in-Rhode-Island moments are the real meat and potatoes of these shows, which the company dug into with gusto. Gone but not forgotten ex-mayor Cianci — known here as inmate 05-000-057 — gets them to warbling "I Want My Buddy Back." In that context, we learn that politics comes from the Greek: " ‘Poly’ meaning many, and ‘ticks’ meaning blood-sucking parasites." Cianci’s replacement, Mayor David Cicilline, doesn’t get taken to task for more than suspicion of voyeurism, for wanting to have traffic violations videotaped. The mayor’s potential for future ribbing is awesome, however, as they describe him as "that Spanish-speaking, gay, Italian-Jewish, mobster lawyer."

There are old favorites besides Cianci, such as Richard Hatch, of Newport and the original Survivor reality show. He showed up in the form of girthy Carroll, in grass skirt and feather boas singing "I Did Survive." ("Did my nude body make you sick? / Hey — the camera blurred my . . . " et cetera.)

My favorite moments were the troupe’s deep-sigh-inducing, sad-but-true observations. As when Treglia remarks, "What can you say about a state when the ethics commission needs an ethics commission?" Or when it’s noted that Cranston’s Mayor Steve Lafferty was criticized for spending $15,000 in video surveillance to catch snoozing city employees, and his stand-in says, with only nominal exaggeration: "Hey, that’s only one dollah per lazy worker!"

The Cranston employment policy of Not One Connected Resident Left Behind made for one of the funniest skits of the night. Three school crossing guards sing "Queens of the Road," lament the mayor’s budget cuts, beam over getting Blue Cross for one hour’s work per day, then complain about not getting a coffee break during that time.

A visitor from Chicago got a language lesson directed to him, as Carroll explained "Rhodonics," equipped with two stacks of flash cards. Pretty soon the audience felt like they were at the opera, looking at superscript translations to decipher incomprehensible language. "Hiyizdoon?" he began. "Good?" The Illinois visitor learned that the polite reply to the question "Jeet?" is "No, joo?" if you haven’t. The proper greeting here is "Nystamecha." And if you ever caught only the tail end of a conversation and wondered what "a nominal egg" was, be advised that that’s what something expensive-looking costs.

The Ocean State Follies may sometimes reach too needily for a gag — doesn’t CVS stand for anything more clever than Cultivating Votes from the Senate? — but by and large, they hit the hilarity about this state dead on.

To find out for yourself, you can check out oceanstatefollies.com for upcoming performances. They will also perform on Saturday, April 3 at the Odeum in East Greenwich, on a bill with Misgivings and the Boozical Speed of Thought Players Improv. That’s part of the first

annual Rhode Island Comedy Festival, which Hall has produced for April 1 through 3, with a comedy contest the first night and stand-up comics the second. For details, go to www.ricomedy festival.com.