So much of what's on Broadway is opulent to the point of being over-produced, it's invariably nice to come across a down-dressed, lower-key evening of intelligent comedy. Rob Becker's Defending The Caveman fits the bill in many ways; Becker's monologue offers a lot of amusing material about the basic differences between men and women, and he has a malleable face that can go from couch potato to Cro-magnon in seconds flat. At times (not quite enough times), Becker even achieves profundity, as when he applies the idea that men are hunters, women gatherers, to everything from shopping to sexual intercourse.
But too much of Defending The Caveman feels hit or miss, even slapdash. No director is given in the Playbill, so Becker himself must shoulder the blame for adding a half hour of meandering to the 75 minutes of smart comedy that put him here in the first place. A proper costume designer might have mentioned to Becker that wearing a shlubby polo shirt and jeans may seem like a choice to him but looks like a careless compromise to everyone else. More importantly, a voice coach might have told Becker that he'd get bigger laughs if he'd slow down and enunciate, a feat he could easily accomplish if he'd only use his lips instead of talking through his teeth.
Ultimately, we get the sense that Rob Becker threw himself up on stage without regard to the logistics of a Broadway performance, figuring the sheer premise (men vs. women) and two handfuls of good ideas and jokes would carry the evening. That kind of Neanderthal thinking rates a big Ugh.
