'Only the Truth is Funny' concludes

Like life, the comedy of Rick Reynolds isn’t all funny. It’s messy, embarrassing, lonely with unexpected twists and shocking turns reminding anyone in the audience that while we like to think of ourselves as in the driver’s seat of our own play, it never, ever works out that way.

That said, Reynolds’ stage performance of “Only the Truth is Funny: Mid-Life at the Oasis” is one of the best investments of 90 minutes of raucous entertainment you’ll find anywhere — especially these days, when little seems funny.

Reynolds, who lives in Petaluma, returns to the stage after a 17-year self-imposed exile following an earlier meteoric writing career.

Now, truly middle-aged, he has scads of material as he ushers his audience through the pain of his violent childhood and his mom’s mental illness (exacerbated by the worst choices in men as a widow in the years after watching her husband drown).

He pulls no punches about his own re-occurring doubts whether life is worth living and his fervent hope he can create in adulthood what he never had as a child — a lasting, loving relationship “til death do us part.”

Little separates Reynolds from the audience in the intimate setting of Petaluma’s Cinnabar Theater; it’s not just about the space. It’s about the universality of the message — childhood trauma and fear, growing up geeky, existential angst, marriage, parenthood, aging and the fear of dying alone.

What’s remarkable is how Reynolds pilots this wild roller coaster up the climb and over, to plunge the audience into his life. Hanging on, terrified, fixated, laughing out loud despite — or because of — the possibility of a disastrous crash right there on stage.

Reynolds is a master of disaster as he weaves his tales, taking everyone in their seat with him to his most terrifying, hilarious, joyous and then tragic, then ridiculous moments of life. He dangles you by your feet atop a 20-story building and, from the first minutes of his 11⁄2 hour joy ride (indeed), asks the audience to trust him. And, you find you do.

Why? Because he speaks to the full range of human emotions humans share. Not identically, but close enough to make you look at the person to your right or left and nod while laughing your head off.

As he moves around the stage, set with a wooden kitchen table and chair, an easy chair, side table and on it a vintage ’50s lamp and Jetsons-style TV sculpture, he paces, slouches, mimics, punctuates with rising volume and buggy eyes, laughing at himself with the rest of us because he knows we are “with him.”

His kinetic energy — along with subtle theatrical movements and a little lighting trick here and there — brings us along with him as voyeurs to his highlights of childhood, young adulthood, becoming a husband and, later, a parent himself.

He tells us there are three things we all wish for in life: feeling loved as a child, believing in God and finding and keeping a loving, intimate adult companionship. He dissects each with us.

Reynolds opens his performance in the lightless theater, lamenting the human journey, fraught with dire events, betrayal, failed attempts at success and hurtling toward old age and death.

What is remarkable is that he takes that dark side of the moon and by the close of his tale, he turns that script into wonder, celebration and reasons to live as he stands — this time in the light — to celebrate the good, the bad and the ugly just chronicled. He answers his own question about life worth living with a breathless recitation of “100 reasons to go on living.” That’s worth the value of admission right there.

”Only the Truth is Funny” runs through July 30 at Cinnabar Theater. For show dates and times, call 763-8920, or go to www.cinnabartheater.com. Tickets are $20 in advance, $25 at the door. Showtimes are 8 p.m.

(Contact Liz Watson at argus@arguscourier.com)