Chatting in the BATS Theatre bar prior to the show, I really have no idea what I’m going into.  Neither, it turns out, does anyone else.

Tomorrow Night Live is a live taping of a YouTube talk show, like Jimmy Fallon or Jay Leno.  It’s mostly an interview format, with a special guest artist and a not-so-special guest pulled from the audience.  From the 50 minutes we’re in The Dome, a 5-minute video will be created, to be uploaded the day after 

I’d honestly never considered how well The Dome works for this setup.  There’s the obligatory desk, complete with branded mugs and cue cards, stage left and still a fair bit of room for cameras to be set up in multiple spaces around it.  A blank space centre stage serves as the performance stage for the special guest.

We, the BATS audience, are the future YouTube video’s “studio audience.”  Throughout the evening we’re given a variety of tasks to perform for the cameras. Our tasks range from clapping at various levels of enthusiasm (golf claps to completely bonkers) to throwing enormous dice at the stage, to manning a camera. 

It’s not a conversation, like much audience interaction; we’re given concrete tasks with very clear instructions.  It reminds me of watching street jugglers, when they pull a volunteer onstage and tell them to stand very still right THERE so we don’t hit you.

The specificity of our tasks is possibly due to the long experience our hosts – Zane and Degge Jarvie – have with circus and physical performances.  Given the cameras are poised for torso or head and shoulders shots, Zane and Degge instead opt for stillness that sometimes falls into stiffly held poses – hands clasped and shoulders set – that make it hard to see past the camera’s position.  I’m not sure it is a necessary evil of filming, either; having attending tapings of both Jon Stewart’s Daily Show and Good Morning America, I’ve seen performers handle the dual challenge before. 

As a duo, they opt for an Abbott and Costello smart guy/screw-up dynamic.  Degge, for example, has foregone wearing pants, as he fully expects to sit behind the desk the entire time.   His every action causes Zane exasperation, from late camera setups to trying to clean the studio between takes.  While the dynamic is clear, the patter is really repetitive, with little detail of each specific screw-up.  

There’s a news section using ask-fors from the audience. We’re assured it will make sense in the video, and I hope so, because I have no idea what is going on ‘outside’, though I am digging Zane’s choice in absenting himself from the studio.  Since the video hasn’t come out as of the time of writing this review, I have to take their word for it. 

Not-so-special guest Shane starts as a stand-in for the special guest during a ‘practice take’.  His introduction is maybe one of the best examples of (over?) rewarding an audience member ever.  Not only does Shane get applause for being chosen, but he is chosen to let us practice our enthusiastic clapping!  It’s gutsy to stand there and receive that much attention. 

Dorge, a disgraced Sesame Street monster who left after too many experiences with roofies, and his sidekick Jon Coddington, of Puppet Fiction cult fame, are the evening’s special guests. Dorge/Coddington are totally engaging to watch; a foul-mouthed, butt-obsessed Muppet is inherently funny.  And I am mesmerized by the mechanics of the puppeteering, especially what does or does not translate from human body to a puppet’s floating torso. Since we see all of Dorge and Coddington’s bodies, I’m curious how a shorter frame in camera will change my perception.

And for me, that is the appeal of the evening.  I enjoy seeing the sausage get made, from the workaday takes and retakes of entrances and exits to the puppetry.  If this feels like half a review, it’s because the experience feels somewhat incomplete without having seen the video.  I’m looking forward to its release sometime this afternoon. 

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer