Not since Kiki and Herb has a duo left me as giddy and excited as hilariously mismatched faux couple Vicky and Lysander, now hosting multiple dinner parties every weekend at Grand Opening. The hosts of the wildly inappropriate and hilarious parties (with 11 of your new favorite strangers), the twosome do everything but juggle to keep their guests entertained. At least, they didn’t juggle the night I went. Who knows what those wacky kids are capable of, though?
The perky and casually dismissive Vicky is the glue that holds the evening together, while the dashing and mustachioed Lysander (who is hell-bent on bringing the turtleneck back) alternates between cattiness and misplaced sincerity. Their story of meeting on St. Bart’s is a marvel of comedic timing, involving a little brown child and Lysander wrestling a great white shark. But to give any more away would be a disservice to both performers.
No doubt the BYOB policy helped things go smoothly, but credit must be paid to Vicky and Lysander for keeping conversation flowing. Whether they’re asking everyone at the long dinner table to talk about themselves, or sharing slides from their racist trips around the world, these two hosts know the importance of a congenial atmosphere. Over fried chicken, roasted vegetables and mashed potatoes from Mama’s, Vicky and Lysander cordially invite you to share your lives with them—as long as you don’t upstage them.
They are, however, wholly dependent upon the crowd at any given performance. Half of the table at my party was in stitches all night (the bottles of wine they’d brought for themselves no doubt contributed, as did the pint of Southern Comfort I imbibed), while the other half tittered uncomfortably. Part of the problem is the vagueness of the press materials, which offer only the promise of a free dinner with what sounds like stand-up comedy tossed in. But Vicky and Lysander are much more than stand-up comedians divorced from a brick wall; they come closer to performance artists, even as the evening quickly filled up and spilled over. Ever resourceful, they dragged some chairs around (Lysander, giving up his chair, sourly observed that he’d just sit on the toilet all evening) and gamely went on with the show.
Even as someone who loathes audience interaction (or any sort of interaction with strangers, actually), I found myself having a ball. The liquor no doubt helped, but so did the atmosphere that Vicky and Lysander create around themselves, one that promises not to suffer fools gladly. Still, they lack that predatory gleam to their eyes that so many performers get when innocent ticket holders walk into their line of vision. Vicky and Lysander will call on you to share with the room, but they won’t make you feel embarrassed about doing so. Fully confident in their own abilities, they’re willing to go along with their audience wherever they take them. And certain kinds of audience members are more than willing to go along with whatever Vicky and Lysander deem appropriate for their dinner party, from table dancing to tarot card readings. But I didn’t need Vicky to read my fortune to know that I’ll be talking about them for weeks to come.
>Vicky and Lysander
Through April 18, Grand Opening, 139 Norfolk St. (betw. Stanton & Rivington Sts.), 646-875-8078; $40.
