By Merle Bertrand | January 21, 2001

The title refers to a form of “theatre so small that it can fit in your pocket, or your favorite pack of cigarettes.” If this makes no sense to you, get used to it, ’cause neither will this trippy exercise in nonsensical minimalism.
This entire film consists of two attractive women, excuse me, “Tellers of All Tales,” according to the barely intelligible narration, who sit on window ledges…um, “windows made of the thoughts of their mothers,” and babble endlessly, er, “for æons and bits have entertained themselves by saying and saying and saying, creating version upon version upon version…”
Ugh. Like I said, babbling.
Kitty Izzo and Renee Miller star as the so-called Tellers. From their high tech split screen perches, drenched in a beginning level DP’s basic blue or orange-heavy gel package, they look for all the world like a couple of futuristic go-go dancers trapped in cages. To their credit, they emote their hearts out admirably. Indeed, only their physical charms and odd charisma make this pretentious silliness even remotely watchable. It’s not their fault that nothing they say makes any sense.
Oh, I suppose if your “Dark Side of the Moon” CD is scratched and you need something to accompany your herbal habit, director Rome Viharo’s self-important foray into meaningless nothingness would do in a pinch. Otherwise, “Penny Theatre” won’t even open off-off-off Broadway.

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