John Paulsen specializes in oddness. Not crazy, not eccentric - odd. Askew. Out of sync. His characters are often people who, were they to sit next to you on the bus, would make you move to a different seat. On the stage, though, protected by the implicit performer-audience contract, you get a little window into other worlds, some of them isolated, lonely, and deeply yearning. Doolymoog is a collection of shorts stories or
(Paulsen's own analogy) an album of songs. You can either take each piece as its own nugget, or let them resonate off each other in your mind.
Bret Fetzer, The Stranger
John Paulsen understands how to create pathos, how to give life to individual characters that quietly scream for understanding and respect. Yet he adds a layer to his characters that saddens you to realize they have never had respect. It is this sensitive development that makes Doolymoog a success. The power touches audiences with an introspective stillness that is all too rare in theatre today.
John's other tremendous strength is control over his body. His movement pieces show a grace and flow that few could generate. When he waded into a pool of light, you could imagine it being liquid. Choreography bordering on dance, his ability to convey emotion through movement made for an aesthetical pleasant evening.
Douglas Bailey, KSER Radio
Paulsen has an uncommon appeal that escapes hyperbole. There is lucid sincerity about him that disarms all pretensions, and we immediately feel at home. He quietly connects with an audience
I left the theater feeling realigned, as if somebody pressed my hidden reset button. I was carrying the show's program in my hand, a simple white napkin with the crew names and scene descriptions written on it in ink. This memento was Paulsen's final gesture, commenting on a night in which, for a brief, playful hour and a half, he managed to wipe away the Dorito stains of my lonely mortality.
Korby Sears, The Stranger
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