The poet Cesar Cruz once said: “art should comfort the disturbed.” Likewise, when October arrives at Penn, something disturbs everyone—whether it be midterms season, 50–degree temperatures, or scrambling to find the perfect Halloween costume. Last week, I became victim to all these irksome conditions, so what better way to seek comfort than by observing art? Specifically, in the (quite literal) sanctuary of Iron Gate Theatre, while watching The Mask and Wig Club’s fall production: Legally Bond.
A Mask and Wig show night begins fairly casual. After entering Iron Gate, I observed the usual hustle and bustle: folks debriefing with each other, snapping pre–show selfies, or scanning the playbill for familiar names. My two friends and I squished ourselves into the church–turned–theater’s pews—astounded at the full house surrounding us. But when the lights dim, prepare yourself for epic fan behavior. Without further hesitation, the rampant cheers of Mask and Wig alumni commenced. Can we bring this same energy to Penn football games?.
Since its 1889 inception, Mask and Wig’s comedy has maintained a discrete style. Likewise, this longstanding vision of satire serves Penn’s diverse media enthusiasts—both current students and preceding generations. For example, Mask & Wing’s writers develop the fall show's (and annual production) storyline around a recursive pun: parodying one or more works within the American entertainment canon. Past titles include Apollo 13 Going on 30 (2018), Better Call Y’all (2022), and An Ivy League of Their Own (2023). Correspondingly, this year’s show framed a wordplay of Legally Blonde and James Bond. Through amalgamating the Y2K rom–com and 1960s action genres, Mask and Wig’s Legally Bond catered to ranging cinephiles.
Per usual, the Mask and Wig Band opened Legally Bond: a combination of saxophones, electric guitars, trombones, and keyboards. While performing an overture, this ensemble’s vibrant energy received complementation from the crowd’s roaring cheers. Throughout the show, select members of the band continually surprised us with solos: Jake Zubkoff (C '26), your piano hands never fail to work their magic.
Each Mask & Wig plot is unique, yet fan–favorite tropes recurrently decorate the fall show’s sketches and musical numbers. Scattered throughout the setlist are particularly fruity scenes, featuring humanity’s deepest and darkest fetishes. After intermission, the cast drops a Penn admin diss track—earth to Larry Jameson ... emails don’t lead universities! Finally, several scenes parody a college student’s most awkward encounters. Pro–tip: A date at Commons will not help to further your situationship.
Nevertheless, the troupe’s skits also explore previously untouched concepts. A personal favorite was the journey to Great Wolf Lodge. The characters—an influencer mom, her husband, and their two boorish children—exemplify that confinement with one’s family for too long may lead to unwanted discoveries. Much to the dismay of Jen, the savvy TikToker, her son finds another woman’s bra squished under the backseat. Being the passive–aggressive icon she is, instead of initiating a mature talk about the state of their marriage, Jen livestreams the bra of her husband’s mistress to her millions of followers. The message is clear: adult conversations about infidelity are so 20th–century.
Additionally, Mask and Wig’s comedic genre embraces audience participation. Attendees can expect to not merely spectate the production, but also interact with the fictional characters. In Legally Bond, Mask and Wig painted a double entendre with the help of alumni attendees. Upon walking onstage in a glitter sequined sport coat, host Ryan Ghose (W '25) proudly announced his favorite adjective: wet. After blessing the audience with some “WAP” bars (self–explanatory), he designated the alumni “Splash Zone”: these former Mask & Wig cast members became susceptible to “wetness” by sitting just inches away from the performance.
At each Mask and Wig Show, one should certainly stick around to watch the third act, consisting of a standardized list of Mask & Wig cult classics: Penn's alma mater, followed by odes to the club’s historic mantra—“There’s only room for one!” Remaining in their black spy uniforms, the troupe also reserved time for thanking their sponsors—gleefully snapping the syllables of each donor’s name. Through these traditions, Mask and Wig pays homage to its historic roots as a premier U.S. comedy troupe.
Aside from entertainment, Mask and Wig performances embody a broader contribution to audiences—reconciling pre–professionalism with leisure joys. One combined interest binds this troupe: the desire to showcase imagination. During the show’s finale, the actors’ kickline reminds me of creativity’s intrinsic value: a project’s greatest benefit is reaching the audience’s emotions. Therefore, I am confident that Mask and Wig will continue to remind Penn about the pricelessness of a good laugh for 136 more years to come.
