There are many reasons we look forward to going back to Rhode Island from time to time, but numero uno on our list is our son Zephyr, who’s been a resident (and even a homeowner) in The Ocean State for several years now. His Providence neighborhood, not far from Brown University (one of the prestigious Ivy League schools), is a mosaic of color, culture, cool and class.

We went with him and his girlfriend Koree to a superb little Korean restaurant downtown called Mokban. Its inviting decor featured ceiling lights encased in what appeared to be Mason jars. And the food was served decoratively on wooden trays; the cuisine looked as much like a work of art as like a meal. Dennis ordered fried tofu in a nut sauce, and Kimberly ordered sauteed mushrooms in… some other sauce. The entrees came with little side dishes of various sauces and garnishes, all of it quite scrumptious. The younger folks, meanwhile, also sipped on a Korean beverage made with grapefruit and vodka.

We’re always impressed by the decor in Zephyr’s house; it was a classic old home when he moved in, and he and his housemates have built upon its charm and elegance even more. Of course, it’s a nice touch that he had a bearded dragon named Cheeto to stand guard. Cheeto took the place of his first bearded dragon, Luke, went on to the Great Fly-Eating Grounds in the Sky. (Alas, since our visit, Cheeto has passed too.)

Zephyr and many of his friends are part of the local “shadowcasting” community; and we catch one of their performances whenever we can. What is shadowcasting? It’s performing in front of a movie screen in mimicry (“shadowing”) of the action of the film playing behind you. His particular troupe, called RKO Army, is part of a league of such groups in cities across the country.

RKO Army Show at the Odeum in Greenwich

The movies that make for the best shadowcasting are those that are so bad they’re good — thus providing ample opportunity to camp it up. The most popular choice, by far, is The Rocky Horror Picture Show, which has enjoyed a cult following for half a century now. In its early days, Dennis attended a midnight screening of the movie in San Francisco and had no idea what to expect. There was no shadowcasting then, but the audience did its own bit, yelling responses to lines on the screen and, at certain moments, throwing items that were appropriate (?) for what was occurring onscreen — for example, rice during the wedding scene. slices of bread when someone said “a toast”, and rolls of toilet paper when someone said “Great Scott!” (The audiences still do this, yelling ever more creative “callbacks”, and some even come dressed as characters from the film.) He was amused enough observing this phenomenon, but figured it was just a passing fad. Little did he imagine that someday he’d have a son who’d be a devoted shadowcaster of that flick — and do a pretty mean impersonation of Tim Curry and his character.

Over time, the shadowcasters have added more cult movies to their repertoire. One of the latest is Reefer Madness; and it was this one that we happened to be around to watch on this trip. Reefer Madness is different from the others, because it is not in itself a bad movie, but a tongue-in-cheek parody of a bad movie. The original Reefer Madness , released in 1936, is a comically overblown morality tale about the supposed evils of marijuana, spinning the yarn of a teenage couple who get hooked on the herb and descend into a frenzy of depravity, crime and insanity. The 2005 film of the same title, which is the one used for shadowcasting, is a musical retro spoof of the original.

The performance we were attending was actually the cast’s premiere presentation of this movie. It was staged in Greenwich, Rhode Island at the Odeum Theatre, a quaint brick building that originally opened in 1926 as a vaudeville house, then later evolved into a movie theatre. It was vacant from 1990 to 1994, when it reopened until 2003 — when the horrific nightclub fire in nearby West Warwick that killed 100 people prompted much stricter fire regulations that resulted in the Odeum closing again until 2013, when it reopened once more, and has been chirping along happily ever since. In addition to film events, it also hosts concerts by some well-known musical acts — a poster outside advertised a coming appearance by The Wallflowers.

But on this particular evening, Reefer Madness ruled; and we were in the audience for its debut by this shadow cast. And from what we could tell, it went off rather smashingly. Of course, we might be a bit biased by having a talented son up there romping on the boards.

After Greenwich, Kimberly obtained her second COVID booster, bringing us both up to date. Then we went back to Narragansett and camped again at Fishermen’s Memorial Park; and Kimberly was able to get in some more assiduous work on the slackline. And stalk nature with her camera.

Meanwhile, our anniversary was approaching, and we were looking for something fun to do on the occasion. Fortunately, something came right up. It was a chance to go see another performance of sorts — but also to participate in it. It was Bring Your Own Improv, a weekly event at which an improv troupe brings at least one person from the audience up to participate in each skit.

Bring Your Own Improv Anniversary Date

We attended one of their performances a few years earlier. At that time, they featured one part of the show when they drew the name of an audience member out of a hat, and had that person come to the stage to be interviewed by the cast, who would then write down the answers to the questions, and make up a skit based on those answers. On that occasion, the audience member whose name was drawn was… Dennis.

This time, we didn’t have the distinction of being pulled from a hat, but we did each participate in a skit. In Kimberly’s part, she was supposed to play out a scene seriously, and — for once — actually try to prevent the audience from laughing. Which, as you might imagine, was quite a challenge. As soon as someone in the audience laughed at a performer’s line, that performer would be replaced by another one — those participating were able to cycle through several times.

In his scene, Dennis was one of three TV reporters interviewing a celebrity; but the “celebrity” actor didn’t know who they were supposed to be or what the premise was, and the reporters’ job was to provide clues in the questions so the performer could guess. In this case, the performer was supposed to be Gordon Ramsay planning to open a restaurant in Atlantis. Dennis was immediately at a disadvantage because, not having been a TV watcher in decades, he had no idea who Gordon Ramsay was. (Though he was familiar enough with TV to elicit an audience response by introducing himself as “some idiot from Fox News”) But he gave what he thought was a good clue by referencing Alanis Morrisette to suggest Atlantis. The young lady playing the part, however, was, it appears, too young even to know who Alanis Morrisette is. And it didn’t even help that the other “journalists” nudged her by saying “you ought to know” and “it’s ironic if you don’t”.

All in all it was a fun evening at the improv, and a memorable 33rd anniversary. And it was rather fitting; even more so than in the past, our life these days is largely about making it up as we go along.

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