In an era when so much American humor is topical - using today's headlines, politicians and social problems for fodder - Victor Borge is still trading on puns, wordplays, sight gags and those classic comic "switcheroos."
That's why his material never becomes dated.And it's also what has made his famous piano routines immortal American humor.
Monday night at Abravanel Hall, Borge pulled down two standing ovations, several encores and more spontaneous applause than a political convention before lowering a small, scarf-size curtain in front of his face and disappearing into the wings.
People, it seemed, had come not so much to be entertained as to pay tribute to an entertainer. Long before PDQ Bach came along, Borge was burying the tune "Happy Birthday to You" amid the Brahms waltzes and crying "Help!" as his hands seemed to modulate a song far beyond his control.
One senses he'll be doing such things long after PDQ is DOA.
For Borge lovers, many of the legendary routines put in an appearance on Monday. The "reluctant page turner," with Borge pleading and stamping for help; the "phonetic punctuation" bit with all its sound effects. The "nearsighted pianist" was there. Borge fell off the piano bench more than once (no mean trick at age 85), spun his sheets of music every which way and spent the night rummaging through his piano bench.
And holding it all together - again - was his incredible touch on the piano. Victor Borge can play. Whether he was playing old Danish folk songs or offering some honest Mozart, nobody laughed when Borge really sat down at the piano.
Amid all the choreographed moves and practiced shtick, of course, there were also some moments of spontaneous humor that showed the performer's famous knack for improvisation. Walking onto the stage, for instance - where more than 100 overflow patrons had been seated - he asked, "What did you do with your instruments?" And when a young mother covered her little girl's eyes as Borge threatened to play in the nude, the pianist - without missing a beat - reached out and covered the mother's eyes as well.
There were a few hidden digs, but not many. Richard Wagner took it in the chops. A needle or two came out for classical music's massive egotists - people like Leonard Bernstein.
"I overheard Leonid - I mean Leonard - Bernstein explaining the music of Aaron Copland once," Borge mused at one point, ". . . to Aaron Copland."
In the end, however, it was hard to let the man go. Partly because no one knew how many times he'll be making it back. One slip on a hip and the musician will have to cut back.
Borge himself wouldn't stand for such talk, of course - all that dour, bad-luck gibberish about injuries. Unlike the late-night "gagsters" on network television, Borge is not out to wound with talent. He's out to heal. His humor is a salve for troubled minds in troubled times.
That is why he's so cherished.
And it's why his silliness and slapstick will be part of the American grain long after he has joined Beethoven and that bedeviling "Moonlight Sinatra" in the history books.