In the world of "Fratricide," frat boys are frat boys, be they straight or gay. In other words, we're talking beer, video games, and air guitar. And as one character blithely acknowledges, "We all listen to Dave and we all shop at the Gap." Frat-boy humor isn't anything new--hello, "Animal House"--but let's face it, the Greek system has never been known as a gay-friendly environment. In fact, you could argue rather persuasively that fraternities have long been a hotbed of homophobia. Which makes this show, written by (and co-starring) Homer Marrs, so interesting and often very funny. While Bravo rolls out "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy," a show highlighting the differences between Neanderthal heteros and their much more stylish homo brothers, Marrs and director Fuzz[y] Gerdes ("The Neutrino Project") envision a universe where 19-year old dudes, "men in the larval stage of emotional maturity," as the press materials put it, have a lot in common--regardless of whom they choose to sleep with. There's something amazingly novel about the concept, at least as far as entertainment is concerned. This, plus the performances of Marrs, Mike Burns, Scot Goodhart, Dave Goss, Brian Nelson and Aaron Walters, make this occasionally uneven series of comedic vignettes wholly worthwhile.

As a rule, the Windy City Times does not review late-night productions or sketch comedy shows. There are just too darn many of them. We make occasional exceptions for shows that might be of special interest to GLBT readers, such as Fratricide, a late-night revue written by GayCo Productions artistic associate Homer Marrs. But this show is an exception that proves the rule; a mildly amusing, superficially gay, collegiate effort. It’s literally collegiate in that most of its scenes revolve around fraternity brothers and a frat house, and figuratively collegiate in the quality of the writing and playing.

While not original, the idea of a fraternity on campus with gay brothers—or even an all-gay brotherhood—still holds multiple possibilities to turn the tables on both gay and hetero stereotypes. However, Fratricide ignores deeper possibilities in favor of slighter, safer thinking and a firm grounding in video games and pop music that clearly appeals to the under-30, mostly hetero crowd that filled the little theater. For every interesting premise—a gay pick-up at a hard rock concert—there is a cliché, such as gay florists. The most interesting gay gambits are the Fuck Buddy Song (sharp writing, well performed, worthy of Naked Boys Singing), and the show’s final scene in which a gay frat brother goes back in the closet because he’s tired of being the token fag. Unfortunately, there’s been no previous build-up to this premise, and the sketch climaxes with a song although the lead actor can’t sing.

Fratricide is best when it’s neither gay nor collegiate: Sylvia Plath in a WWF-style poetry slam against arch enemy Anne Sexton; two frat brothers showing each other photos of their “adorable” parents as if their folks were babies; parodies of infomercials for prescription drugs (“See if alcohol is right for you.”), self-help gurus (“You can be dead on the inside.”) and oldies compilations (The Best of Air Guitar). Most of these, however, need fuller, longer development—for example, we never see Sexton in the poetry slam scenes—and virtually every sketch needs a stronger finish, a good button. Marrs’ writing is intelligent but not full-fledged.

The six men in the cast, Marrs among them, do not identify themselves, so one doesn’t know who is whom. The tallest actor and the small, thin one are the quickest and most focused, while the short, dark-haired guy with big sideburns performs in an alternate universe of limited energy and sloppy lines. Director Fuzzy Gerdes needs to crack the whip in brush-up rehearsals.

The sometimes-stifling WNEP Theatre is right on The Strip in Boystown. Since Fratricide runs just one hour, you’ll be on your way to the bars before Midnight. Talk about superficial!