Al Lubel is Mentally Al

Find Al Lubel's posters tacked up around the city and you'll see words of praise from Jerry Seinfeld and David Letterman. And they are wholly fitting of Lubel's potential; there is a pared-down appeal to his style that's reminiscent of the best of 80s and 90s American standup, which has garnered Mentally Al attention in the lead-up to his Fringe run. He is able to balance the absurd (uttering various permutations of his own name until it loses all meaning) and the introspective (examining his relationship with his overbearing mother) in a well-balanced package that comes off as more of a polished monologue than an hour of psych-heavy standup. At least for the first 40 minutes.

Then things take a turn. While maintaining his almost theatrically perfect delivery, Lubel, particularly with his over-bearing mother material, veers slightly left of funny, and into too-earnest, group therapy territory. When he explains his mother's involvement in his daily bathroom routine up to the age of 12, the audience squirms rather than gasps. Jokes become ever more rambling as he ventures into semi-improvised song, and a nudity gag seems tacked on and unrelated to anything in his previous hour of material.

Or should we say hour and a half. The show runs late, leaving audience members a little faint in a cozy pocket of the Caves. While ventilation issues are admittedly beyond anyone's control, a little self-editing would have given a more satisfying shape to an otherwise skilful import's set.