'17 Border Crossings': They all look alike

Imagine that one of your obnoxious in-laws - the kind who prattles on in meandering, faux-reflective stories that barely conceal a sense of self-importance - just returned from a three-week, multicountry tour to . . . wherever.

You're invited to sit down to a 90-minute - presentation is the wrong word, so we'll say, monologue - about his travels. But instead of showing you slides of sites and cultures, your in-law regales you with anecdotes about crossing the borders between each country, delivering these stories in a manner and style that Thaddeus Phillips employs in 17 Border Crossings, now receiving its world premiere at FringeArts.

Your in-law sprinkles narrations with reenactments performed with minimal props: a suitcase, a desk and chair, and a long, horizontal row of fluorescent lights. Would that these lights had created the same sense of magic that Maria Shaplin lent to Phillips' show, but I digress, as lighting alone only carries a spectacle on July Fourth.

Throughout these 90 minutes, you hear of border guards, customs agents, and police through tales of bribery, corruption, and ineptitude in Italy, Serbia, Jordan, wherever. Some of the stories evoke metaphors, however unoriginal. Some attempt humor. None engage in the sense of "Wow, why don't my vacations ever turn out that way?"

And then you're glad, knowing that you found much more fascination in your own travels.

After about 60 minutes, you're bored. You picture other people laughing, and imagine they're the same type whose ears eagerly eavesdrop through radios to similar anecdote-heavy programs on NPR. Your in-laws hope you appreciate the occasional breakouts into cheap magic tricks, dancing, and stand-up comedy. Maybe you do.

You don't understand right away why this article (or that in-law) talks to you entirely in second person, then you realize that it imitates - without intending to flatter - the style of Phillips' show. You wonder why anyone would speak in such a manner if he could find better means to engage an audience, but you've already answered that question.

Perhaps, you think, Phillips chose that style in contrast to his other attitude, snark, the kind that ends vignettes about crossing from Austria to Germany by noticing - in grand, unironic, platitudinous fashion - that the two countries look exactly the same.

If you're still hearing that style of voice, I apologize. If you don't get it by now, I'll end on one note of sincerity: This is not an endorsement.

Through Sunday at FringeArts, 140 N. Columbus Blvd. (at Race Street). Tickets: $20 to $29. Information: 215-413-9006, fringearts.com. EndText