Theatre in Review: Now. Here. This. (Vineyard Theatre)

Even its many admirers had to admit that [title of show] -- the 2008 musical about the writing of a musical -- occasionally got too self-reflexive for its own good. Charming as it was, it's main achievement was to prove that there is a limited audience for a show filled with jokes about Mary Stout, Kwamina, and Henry, Sweet Henry. (If you have to ask...) While I don't exactly recall anyone advising Hunter Bell and Jeff Bowen, [title of show]'s creators, to expand their horizons, they've teamed up with Susan Blackwell and Heidi Blickenstaff, their erstwhile partners in crime, to do just that. In [title of show], they cracked wise about Betty Buckley; in the first five minutes of Now. Here. This., they cite, of all people, Thomas Merton.

From Broadway stars to Trappist monks; it's all in a day's work for the members of this irrepressible crew. The result is, like [title of show], nearly indescribable, but possibly may draw more than a cult audience, for Now. Here. This. is a kind of self-help revue; it wants to do nothing less than instruct us in the art of living. (Merton is the source of the title, which alludes to the importance of learning to live in the present moment.) Employing the kind of high-concept format reminiscent of television variety shows of the 1970s, the book, by Bell and Blackwell, is structured around a group visit to the Museum of Natural History. While gazing at birds, dinosaurs, turtles, and images of the limitless universe, the foursome takes part in a series of songs, reflections, and autobiographical sketches, all of which stress the importance of shedding one's emotional baggage and getting on with the business of living.

And, as Now. Here. This. makes perfectly clear, they have plenty of baggage to shed. In an amusing number called "Dazzle Camouflage," Bowen recounts how he avoided any questions about his sexual identity by becoming the class clown, triumphing as the Martin Short character Ed Grimley at the Suncoast Middle School Annual PTA Pancake Supper. Blickenstaff recalls her constant youthful need for attention -- a compulsion that led to some pretty destructive acts -- as well as a complicated relationship with her father, who would have preferred that his daughter become a lawyer. Blackwell relives an adolescence devoted to constant activity, the better to distract attention from the bizarre details of her family life. A chance meeting with the mother of a super-cool classmate leads to a searing moment of recognition. ("Vicki will tell our entire sophomore class that I live in a house that is stacked and packed from floor to ceiling with boxes and newspapers, piles of unfolded clothes, old toys, expired food, bags of kitty litter, bags full of bags.") Bell, once again the apostle of all things superficial -- in the opening number, he confuses "cosmology" with "cosmetology" -- provides a funny and touching account of his doomed teenage attempt at becoming a fashion model as well as an unwise declaration of love to a male school friend as they are ascending the first hill of a roller coaster.

Happily, there's nothing the least bit lachrymose about these true confessions. The message of Now. Here. This. is that we've all had similar experiences; what's important is to not let them haunt you into adulthood. And, of course, as is the case with any product of the firm of Bell, Bowen, Blackwell, and Blickenstaff -- the most agreeably ADD theatre artists in town -- the text is loaded with laugh-provoking digressions on many subjects, including Ann Jillian, Downton Abbey, and Paper Dolls, the ABC series about the travail of fashion models, starring Morgan Fairchild and Brenda Vaccaro. Blackwell amusingly confesses that she tells people that her favorite film is Jacques Tati's Mon Oncle, when really it's any one of the Twilight epics. There's also an all-too-accurate demonstration of "fake funny" as practiced on the old sitcom Full House, and a paean to everything about the film Tootsie.

Providing solid emotional grounding are Bowen's songs, including "Members Only," about the youthful belief that the right jacket or shirt or hairstyle will provide one with entrée into the high school in-crowd; "Kick Me," in which Bowen remembers ditching a group of simpatico college classmates in order to stay popular in his fraternity, composed entirely of guys with whom he had nothing in common; and an eleven o'clock number titled "This Time," which provides some easy-to-take wisdom about the joy of being alive.

Given the show's scattered, loose-limbed, what-shall-we-talk-about-next quality, it's probably not surprising that Now. Here. This. is marked by a certain unevenness. As the gags whiz by, some of them are bound to miss their marks. And some sequences -- including a not-very-amusing account of a seafaring birthday party that ends in a gigantic case of mal de mer -- seem a little too off-topic for their own good. But all four performers have perfected the fine art of playing themselves, and, under Michael Berresse's canny direction, the show has a pleasingly improvisational air. If anybody is capable of entertaining us with a spiritual pep talk, it's this funny foursome. (Kudos, also, to Larry Pressgrove, the group's equivalent of the fifth Beatle, who collaborated on the orchestrations and vocal arrangements, and serves as musical director.)

The production comes with a nicely done design package, which is dominated by Richard DiBella's witty projections, suggesting different rooms in the Museum of Natural History. Also providing their usual solid work are Neil Patel (scenery), Gregory Gale (costumes), Jeff Croiter and Grant Yeager (lighting), and Acme Sound Partners (sound).

And really, didn't you wonder, at least a few times, what the [title of show] crew could possibly do for an encore? The beguiling answer is now on display at the Vineyard, and it may just possibly introduce them to a whole new set of fans.--David Barbour