The missing-thumb trick as career

Appropriately enough for a mime, Robert Post leaves his audience at a loss for words.

Robert Post’s journey of 1000 miles begins with a single strange bodily contortion.

“People come to the theater and say, ‘I have no idea what to call it,’” says Post, who would more accurately merit the compound title of mime-actor-puppeteer-comedian-circus performer.

“It’s tough to categorize me,” boasts Post, a hint of sympathy creeping into his voice, slightly hoarse from directing a performance of hundreds of grade-schoolers the previous day. “It’s great when you come to see it live, but it’s hard to write about.”

According to Post’s own Web site, the Edmonton Journal characterized his show as “a witty, bizarre deconstructed vaudeville,” NPR labeled him “eccentric” and the Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel found his work “intriguing.” Publicizing his August 2006 appearance at The Plain City Public Library in Plain City, Ohio, the staff there resorted to calling him “indescribable.” (No offense to the Columbus suburb, but with dates like these, it’s no wonder Post says “I’m in love with Asheville. I’m bringing my wife with me.”)

Actually, there is a very apt description for Post’s show, although it might not resonate with theater fans who didn’t go to summer camp: Post is doing end-of-session talent-show schtick—and doing it quite well.

Remember the human-puppeteer skits in which one camper would poke his arms under another camper’s underarms, making it look as though the fellow in front had a pair of disjointed limbs? That’s Post’s sort of humor. Like any good cabin leader, he has an endless supply of sight gags that pivot on the audience mistaking one limb for another. Much of his show is devoted to waving around his costumed arms and legs, sometimes using sets to disguise their connection to him. In another running sketch, he affixes a ballet dancer’s mask to the crown of his head, then bows toward the audience, so his noticeably muscular arms look like the long legs of the ballerina.

“These just come into my head,” offers Post, when asked how he develops his repertoire. “The truth is, I go into the studio and improvise.”

Post does much of his creative work in front of a video camera. He prances around his studio, swinging his limbs and tossing objects about, hoping he’ll capture the germ of an idea on film.

“I’ll watch my body like an actor,” says Post of the process. “I don’t try to be original or unique; it just comes from my mind.”

Post credits his willingness to brainstorm—and bodystorm—with transforming his act from just another mime show to something worth seeing.

“The reason mime has such a bad rap is most people doing mime don’t take it and run with it,” he reasons. “That’s the journey I’m on.”

One of the sketches to emerge from Post’s studio sessions is the perennial favorite “Tango,” in which he slips his hands and feet into a union suit—from the outside. As his Web site describes it: “Post invites a pair of red long johns on the dance floor for a “steamy” tango. In the resulting tangle of arms and legs, it’s difficult to tell who’s leading who.”

“Tango” is one of the skits on Post’s family-approved list; about half of his tour dates are performed in school auditoriums. His publicity materials include a quote from a grateful principal of Salt Rock Elementary School in West Virginia, who says his students thought Post was “totally awesome.”

But Post is obviously fearful of being pigeonholed as a child-oriented artist, taking pains to point out during an interview that he recently wrapped a series of videos about breast cancer. Even while hurling plastic fish and wearing women’s wigs, he tries to maintain a sophistication consistent with his background in absurdism. Post studied absurdist literature at Ohio State University, then—after a brief hiatus spent caddying for pros including Byron Nelson and Chi Chi Rodriguez—moved to Maine in search of a teacher who could help him translate absurdist theories to the stage. He has since performed in prisons, dinner theaters, homeless shelters and riverboats. His goal, he says, is always the same:

“What I would love for people to leave with is: ‘I’ve never seen anything like this before.’”

Robert Post performs POST Comedy Theatre at Diana Wortham Theatre Friday, March 30, as part of the venue’s Just for the Fun of It Series. 8 p.m. $26/general, $24/seniors, $21/students, $10/student rush (day of show). 257-4530.