The biographical monologue takes many different turns as the night progresses.  He begins by raking a just-deceased Liberace over the coals and then sings one of Maya’s madcap musical numbers “Polaroid Children”: “Why can’t I have polaroid children?/ Children that will develop in front of my eyes in seconds/ So I know right away if I made a mistake/ If I need to shoot again.”

Morgan Bassichis was incredibly charismatic, and I would love to hand him my biography to bring to stage.  He puts his whole heart into it.   In 70 quick minutes you begin to care a bit about a man you never heard of before.  What gives the show its momentum and eventual power is the transformative effect Maya and his life story apparently has upon Bassichis, who initially and amusingly presents themself as a chatty, non-binary queer comedian. Early on, while talking about Maya’s life and times, the gawky Bassichis eventually wraps themself up in a snaky tangle of microphone cord. By the end of the show, however, Bassichis has evolved into quite a different character whose forceful message urges the audience to honor lost artists from the recent past such as Maya by becoming militant and informed people facing up to the present.   One person shows are all the rage now in New York and it is easy to see why when seeing both Ta-Da and Can I Be Frank? both in the same week.  A lot can be said and done in the guise of standup.