Review: My Child, My Child, My Alien Child at Hyde Park Theatre

Puppies. Kittens. Lisa Frank stickers. All things that are supposed to inspire hope and love and laughter within our hearts, no? Yeah, well, take a seat, guys, 'cause sappy pap has nothing on Zell Miller III's heartbreaking, heartwarming one-man show My Child, My Child My Alien Child, now playing at the Hyde Park Theatre and directed by Ken Webster. Spend a couple of hours listening to Miller talk about the joys and challenges of child-rearing through a unique storytelling blend of sketch, slam and stand-up, and pretty much every sentiment you ever thought was "real" is likely to seem like the barest imitation of authenticity. We're telling you now: bring tissues.

'Course, maybe we were just feeling particularly bawly since we were sitting next to Miller's wife, Marcia, whose beauty, humor and patience are invoked by Miller throughout the show—that is, when he isn't talking about the beauty, humor and impatience of his son, Zelly.

Little Zelly's "alien child" hijinx range from foul-mouthed kindergarten faux pas to complete bogartment of Saturday morning serenity as Miller depicts a life invaded by a bizarre and beautiful being. My Alien Child never devolves into the kind of Tuesdays With Morrie-ish sentimentality often associated with raw male emotion in the family/love/loss sphere. Instead, Miller projects a powerful sensitivity and sincerity in his juxtapositions: anger and humor, past and future.

The play will no doubt appeal to parents, but single folks shouldn't shy away: Zell Miller's story is one that will renew faith in relationships for even the most jaded loner.

My Child, My Child, My Alien Child runs through April 18.