A writer sees Blue Man Group for the first time as it closes

Boston Globe

2 days ago

But I didn't. Instead, I bought tickets to other things — maybe an acclaimed play at
There was no pressure, of course. Blue Man Group would always be there, anyway.
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But always is never forever.
Blue Man Group announced on June 10 that Boston's July 4-6 weekend performances would end the production's 30-year run in town. Blue Man Group had already closed in Chicago in January, and in New York City, its hometown, in
Blue Man Group in 1995.
Tom Herde/Globe Staff
After the final Boston performance at 5 p.m. on Sunday, Blue Man Group will only run in
That's why I went to Blue Man Group Boston last week — at the Charles Playhouse — to say hello and goodbye at once.
I was there on June 26, in a mostly sold-out room.
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To the six full-time Blue Man Group performers who trade off shows, the three full-time band members, the nine part-time band members, and the 42 people who ran the production from the back, I'd like to say: You were weird. You were peaceful and neutral about the world. I'm sorry it took me so long. I'm surprised by how much I loved you.
I have made some fun of Blue Man Group over the years — because it's easy to do that.
It looks goofy (by design, the three performers are covered in blue paint and move kind of like aliens). Second, there's the legacy of 'Arrested Development,' one of my favorite TV comedies, which had its most ridiculous character, psychotherapist-turned-actor Tobias (David Cross), seeking out Blue Man Group because he's mistaken it for a support group for sad men, only to become an aspiring Blue Man who's desperate to be a member of the company.
That plot becomes a running joke through seasons.
Also, Blue Man Group's longevity turned it into a punch line, which is inevitable. Its origin was
expect
. Over time, it became clear that Blue Man Group was a safe show — something for people of all ages and backgrounds. The thing you did with those in-laws.
But I always noticed that even when people made a joke about Blue Man Group — the way people joke about anything when it becomes mainstream — they never suggested it wasn't good or worthy of being seen.
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At a collaborative exhibit at the Boston Children's Museum in 2004.
David L. Ryan/Globe Staff
At the Charles Playhouse last week, in the bar, where people can mess around with noise-making tubes similar to ones used in the show, I asked people why they got tickets. There was a New Englander who needed a Father's Day gift; a group that had been multiple times; and a family taking a teen for her first performance. Sitting behind me in the theater were more than 40 students who attend an all-girls school in Buffalo. Blue Man Group was their final social activity before heading home.
The performance was mostly what I thought it would be — and many of you know what I'm going to say, because according to the show's producers, more than 4.5 million people have seen Blue Man Group in Boston over the years. There is schtick — including audience participation where people are asked to play instruments or help with wordless punch lines; sound-based art, where the blue men chew cereal loudly, making their own music; and some video clips that point out the absurdity of daily life under capitalism (that's my take, at least).
My favorite moments were meditative — when the room went quiet as we all watched the blue men bang on paint-covered drums, the paint splattering everywhere, making beautiful flashes of light in time with the rumble of percussion.
Last year,
clown
— as an art — is linked to the concept of 'ego death.' Clowns are at their best when the performer can fully detach and be silly without trying to
be
anything in particular. It's not easy to pull off.
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During Blue Man I realized:
This is it.
Ego death.
There is no credit for the performers — no laugh that isn't shared among the group, no success or failure. They're just hopping around, doing weird or beautiful things.
People wait under the theater marquee at the Charles Playhouse before a performance by the Blue Man Group in March 2000.
Bill Polo/Globe Staff
I think I experienced it in the audience, too. I went in cynical and became a person smiling because toilet paper was being shot at me from above.
The next morning, I interviewed a blue man,
'This place, Boston, held a show for 30 years. I mean, that's a remarkable thing.'
McLin said this weekend's performances will deliver what the ensemble always has: 'We'll send this off in a way that befits the gift that it's been for all of us.'