Good Life The Karamazovs juggle objects and philosophy BY LIZA WEISSTUCH
	Life: A Guide for the Perplexed Book by Paul Magid. Lyrics by Howard Jay Patterson. Directed by Michael Preston. Choreographed by Doug Elkins. Set by Bliss Kolb. Lighting by David Hutson. Costumes by Carolyn Keim. Music and sound by Mark Ettinger. With Paul Magid, Howard Jay Patterson, Mark Ettinger, and Roderick Kimball. Presented by the American Repertory Theatre at the Loeb Drama Center through August 8.

Juggling the responsibilities of daily life with time for the random fun stuff is no easy undertaking. But it’s a breeze compared with the eye-popping juggling feats the Flying Karamazov Brothers perform in their latest show, Life: A Guide for the Perplexed, which the American Repertory Theatre is hosting at the Loeb Drama Center. Since the early 1970s, when the four Dostoyevsky-dubbed faux siblings began performing on the streets of San Francisco (two original members, Paul Magid and Howard Jay Patterson, remain), they’ve been tossing, catching, and passing various objects with a blend of dexterity, grace, and velocity that’s rivaled only by figure skaters landing quadruple jumps.

But the current crew, who also include fresh-faced Roderick Kimball and Weird Al look-alike Mark Ettinger, defy gravity in more ways than one: in addition to their command of the objects they use to do tricks that appear to break laws of physics (for instance, they consistently fling toilet plungers and make them land with the rubber suctioning the floor), the Brothers also show a complete disregard for seriousness. That’s the Karamazov style. The shtick is livened up by a soundtrack of rockabilly ditties, big-brass jazz, Gypsy-style accordion tunes, and old-fashioned rock and roll — all played on a hodge-podge of instruments. But the real musical highlights come when the sibs create rhythms with the items they juggle and bounce.

Then there’s the nonstop feed of groaningly witty puns and punch lines. Unwelcome gray strands in one bro’s beard, for instance, are "foreign white invaders . . . like in Iraq." (The political jabs are present but none too potent.) The stuff of Life is Fozzie Bear’s humor combined with Sid Caesar’s deadpan delivery, commedia dell’arte–esque physical pranks, and the Marx Brothers’ zaniness (not to mention Groucho’s moustache on three of the Brothers).

In their work for the stage, the Karamazovs typically present a theme that’s more of an excuse. Like their L’Universe (pronounced "Loonyverse"), where quantum physics was the hook on which to hang juggling tricks and linguistic acrobatics, Life features a gonzo approach to a dense subject. A Guide for the Perplexed is the title of a classic tome by Moses Maimonides, a mediæval rabbi/physician/scholar who inspired, among others, Aquinas, Spinoza, and Leibniz. The Karamazovs present Maimonides as an ancestor of Dmitri (Magid), who while facing a midlife crisis happens upon his progenitor’s guidebook. Maimonides’s spirit communicates directly with Dmitri through the sacred pages as it reveals various "pieces of the puzzle" (read: stages of life, from infancy to old age) and rules for dealing with them. Hence, the show begins with a wacky enactment of conception, a routine involving balls with satiny tails that make them look like airborne sperm when they’re tossed.

Tailoring juggling acts to each of life’s stages gives the evening a vague continuity, but the Brothers’ true roots lie in the new vaudeville–style variety show, and the interposed comic sketches and musical interludes disrupt the thematic flow. Each skit is amusing enough in itself, however; we get, for instance, three installments of a soap-operatic saga of Krishna that riffs on Bollywood. And the Karamazovs are still doing their signature trick, the audience challenge. The rules are explained for newbies in song: audience members contribute manageable objects to be juggled and then, according to the vigor of applause for each item, three are chosen. I saw Magid triumph with a backpack, a sandal, and an umbrella.

Although the challenge requires the Brothers to marshal their collective improv skills, this and other interactions with the audience do find the shtick wearing thin. The performers are most engaging when their razor-sharp concentration is directed on the act and on one another. As they stand in a circle collectively juggling 12 bowling pins, their handling of the projectiles seems as natural as eating ravioli with a fork. Even when they bungle a pass, a quick deadpan excuse makes the gaffe seem like part of the routine. That’s a perplexity no guide can explain.