‘Khan Air’ @ Pocket Sandwich Theatre
—Ryan Maffei
The people at Pocket Sandwich Theatre take being silly very seriously.
True, it’s not all they do: their annual production of Ebenezer Scrooge has all the gravitas of Gielgud at the Old Vic, or at least Gielgud at Second City. But their stock in trade is a reference-saturated goofiness, with special fondness for improv, melodrama, and nerd culture. They are currently spoofing that ur-text of nerd culture, Star Trek, for their mainstage show Star Trips, which Onstage NTX will review at a later date. But the Trek universe is also the subject, at least partially, of their current late night show Khan Air—which runs for another weekend, and is highly recommended if it’s 11 PM and you’re in Carrollton instead of bed.
As you probably guessed, one of the two films from which Jared Seman’s Khan Air (subtitle: The Wrathening) is loosely sourced is The Wrath of Khan, the second Star Trek motion picture from the early ‘80s, featuring Ricardo Montalban as somebody evil (or at least wrathful) named Khan. The movie is acclaimed, its reputation as sort of The Empire Strikes Back of that particular film franchise, which itself owes its existence to Star Wars’ post-Trek popularity. I’ve never seen it, though I’m not opposed. Have you?
As you also probably guessed, the other film is Con Air, a 1996 Michael Bay joint starring Nicolas Cage with very long hair, plus a couple other folks (John Malkovich, Dave Chappelle before his rise and fall). The title survives in memory better than the film, and sometimes takes people a moment to figure out what it means. (Convicts on a Plane is less catchy.) I’ve never seen that one either, and I’ve wondered if it actually exists beyond the poster. But because it’s by Michael Bay and stars Nicolas Cage, you can probably assume it sucks in a really overwrought way. Ergo, perfect fodder for parody. I will die without watching it.
The trouble with parody—if you’re in the audience, anyway—is it helps to be familiar with what’s being parodied. But I’m not sure that’s necessary here. Lots of other things get sent up in Khan Air. The Room, for instance, the transcendently bad Tommy Wiseau movie beloved of millions of people who love to laugh at artistic un-selfawareness. And Genesis, the surprisingly good prog band starring Peter Gabriel, which morphed into a surprisingly good bad pop band starring Phil Collins. And Jojo Siwa, the cultural enigma who shifts shape so often, the script isn’t even up to date on the latest things worth making fun of her for. And of course there’s a lot of sexual innuendo, gay sexual innuendo especially. It’s to Khan Air’s credit—and maybe that of Chris Rodgers and Michael Packer, since they play charming gay sex slaves—that none of that innuendo feels homophobic.
Stevie Wicks plays Nicolas Cage, and/or Captain Kirk, and/or Growing Pains star/bad filmmaker/actual homophobe Cameron Kirk. But it’s really just Stevie Wicks mugging in a mullet wig, and that’s good enough. One of his gags is repeatedly making a meal of the word “babygirl”—which I assume is a Con Air reference, with a new course every time. His buddy, Buddy, is played by Speck (not Spock), doing the obligatory Scottish accent that one Star Trek character—I’m pretty sure he’s called Scotty—did. There’s also Han Solo, or rather Hansel Lowe (the change allows for a Zoolander joke), played by Jordan Poklandnik.
These main men embody the vibe of the play: three dudes old enough to be able to make fun of the more dated stuff and young enough to be able to make fun of more contemporary stuff, not overly concerned with acting or catering to a specific audience, but very serious about not letting the word “come” go by without a double entendre. (Given that this was written by a man called Seman, it’s probably the author’s way of rerouting playground trauma.)
If I were to venture criticism, which is technically what I’m here to do, I’d say that this sort of thing is too insular and male, and verges on dumb and annoying, amplified by the fact that it doesn’t care. But Seman has devised his play from a substance impervious to criticism, one the Pocket people developed in a lab decades ago. As his program notes say: “this project was born out of a deep desire to see what the limits of a story can be when placed under the strain of ridiculosity. And the form held its shape.” That he’s not entirely correct doesn’t mean Khan Air isn’t sufficiently solid. And in any case, he and his crew have exploited another loophole: nothing should be subjected to artistic scrutiny after 11 PM. Khan Air is a lot of fun, and its jokes hit at about a 70% rate, which in Texas is passing.
That said, a good deal of it is transcendent, and that’s partially because some of the people on board are doing work worthy of the Old Vic. Khan Air has a director, though you can’t always tell—Lindsay Humphries, to whom much of the show’s zany efficacy can probably be attributed. And the Khan she’s hired is a coup: Alexander DelaCruz is a master of treading the line between sincerity and sendup. His mashup of Montalban and Malkovich (with a few touches of his own) brims with sly nuance, and his overstatement is defter than that of his peers. DelaCruz savors his role in a room full of people chewing with their mouth open, and wins you over to the proceedings when the proceedings grate or flatten. His performance alone is worth coming for (no, not like that. Though actually.…)
Joel Hashop is Pocket Sandwich’s Christopher Guest: he inhabits different characters so completely you can’t begin to imagine what he’s like offstage. Here he plays about twelve of them, and finds brilliant business for each. His Johnny, AKA his Tommy Wiseau, is just right – so much of Khan Air’s The Room content is just pasted in, it’s pretty impressive how fresh he makes it. And his dance to “Invisible Touch” is not to be missed. Caroline Turner Cole does excellent, subtle (!) work as the thankless straight woman. And Sarah Kate Barton is absolutely sidesplitting—dry as a bone and totally in the pocket—as a baby-to-toddler-to-tween with a Ph.D. Meanwhile Katie Herron is working overtime, after hours no less, as Jojo Siwa. Her efforts demand an audience; the show I saw had about thirty people in the crowd, and her “Pink Pony Club” singalong toppled like a shot horse.
Who is Khan Air for? Everyone. OK, maybe not octogenarians, but that’s probably unfair to octogenarians, at least ones who watched Star Trek in their gap year after college. I hadn’t seen either of these movies and I had a great time. It doesn’t go anywhere anyone hasn’t gone before, but it definitely does so boldly. To paraphrase Khan, I will not debate the profound wisdom of these proceedings. If you’re wondering whether or not you’ll enjoy it, just take a cue from Con Air’s Cyrus the Virus: “I never think that far ahead.”
WHEN: final performances July 25-26, 2025
WHERE: 1104 Elm St, Carrollton, TX
WEB: pocketsandwich.com
