Review: Can the Capitol Fools Effectively Satirize American Politics When Everything Is Already a Big Joke?

Presidential election years should be harvesttime for the Capitol Fools, the political satire troupe currently barnstorming the nation in the runup to November. In 2024, the job requires agility verging on improv comedy as dramatic developments in the news render old bits as stale as a McDonald’s French fry moldering under a cushion of Trump Force One. And while this merry band of fools, led by head writer Mark Eaton and director Jack Rowles (who also appears in the show), manages to keep up with the rapid pace of events (as evidenced by a fresh joke about Eric Adams and Turkish Airlines), they often struggle to be funnier than their source material.

The Fools have recently risen from the ashes of the Capitol Steps, which delighted the NPR-listening, PBS-watching, theater-season-ticket-holding set between 1981 and 2020 with outsize political impersonations and parody ditties. But, like so many vestiges of the gentler political culture of the 20^th century, the Steps were killed off in 2020. Several veterans of the Steps rallied to form a new group, briefly performing under the name “DC’s Reflecting Fools,” a clever name, but not a recognizable brand. Thus, they became the Capitol Fools.

This year represents something of a test for the Fools. Is there any room for irreverent but mostly inoffensive humor in a country in which citizens have become apocalyptically serious about their political tribes, even as the politicians leading them through the wilderness have become far less serious?

They recognize this at the top with Matt Gaetz, Lauren Boebert, and AOC leading a medley of songs lovingly ripped off from The Sound of Music. “I served 7 terms going on 8 terms,” sings a barely sentient Mitch McConnell (Kevin Corbett), chin melting into his own neck. It’s a bit guaranteed to kill in a retirement home rec room (I hope the Fools are insured), but as cutting-edge political satire, it’s about as sharp as airline cutlery.

The same goes for Corbett’s serviceable but predicable impression of Donald Trump, featuring invisible accordion-playing hands and red necktie — which, like his monologue, is too long. Jon Bell still seems to be getting his sea legs as Democratic candidate Kamala Harris, which is understandable as she only recently got the gig. She and her running mate, Minnesota high school football coach Tim Walz, sing a moderately revised version of the title song from Camelot, the chorus of which you can guess for yourself.

The Fools disappointingly rest on couch jokes for the bulk of their material about J.D. Vance. Although, I caught the Fools at Playhouse Square in Cleveland, and I will admit that there is something very satisfying about sitting in a room of 1,000 Ohio voters laughing as their junior Senator is described as “if Grizzly Adams became a lawyer.” It’s funny, but not nearly as clever as the moniker “Hillbilly Vanilli,” which does not appear in this show.

More hilarious than the written material are the costumes, especially the wigs, all of which seem to have been purchased from a Spirit Halloween and run over with a Tesla Cybertruck (no designer credited). These really help send some of the impersonations into the zany stratosphere. Nancy Dolliver, in particular, bowls us over with a Nancy Pelosi who you might encounter in a dark alley in the Tenderloin subsisting on a diet of Red Bull and cigarettes.

Corbett closes the first half with a monologue of spoonerisms, a tentpole routine of the Capitol Steps that still holds up. It’s impossible not to laugh at phrases like “Tronald Dump” and “I want to lick a peter,” which Corbett executes with precision. The show would have been fine if it ended there, but Corbett sends us out to the lobby for a drink. “We’ll be a lot funnier if you do,” he warns. Unfortunately, 15 minutes is just not enough time to achieve that level of inebriation.

The second half hobbles along with bits about the secret service (“Secret Agent Man” becomes “Secret Service Man”) and Marjorie Taylor Greene (“Call Me Maybe” becomes “Call Me Crazy”). A quartet about climate change featuring a glowering Greta Thunberg and an incomprehensible Bob Dylan singing “We Warm the World” reeks of low-hanging fruit (the Dylan impression is funny, as far as comedic non sequiturs go). And even a potentially daring number, in which Kermit the Frog’s “It’s Not Easy Being Green” becomes “It’s Not Easy Being White,” fizzles — almost as if Eaton and company can see the ridiculousness of contemporary identity politics but aren’t prepared to give it the full comic roasting it so richly deserves.  The polite Ohio laughter eventually ceded to crickets as we all patiently waited for it to end.

But this shouldn’t be seen as the end for the Capitol Fools, who this week will perform in a state no presidential candidate would bother to visit: Alaska. There are still plenty of twists and turns awaiting us in this presidential race, and more opportunities for laughter. If the Fools really want to seize that opportunity, they should stop pulling their punches.