Victor Borge

When Bea Lillie shook Broadway with her one women show last fall, she proved beyond question that she was the funniest woman in the world. Victor Borge has also prepared a solitary program of music and comedy which demonstrates just as conclusively that he holds the male title.

Borge's format is simple. Looking like a drunken Viking, he announces his numbers, then plays the piano; for two and a half hours, the audience doesn't stop laughing. Nothing could be duller than trying to analyze his humor-he has perfect timing, taste, and talent, and that is enough.

Borge uses one prop-his piano-and as he says, "The Steinway people have asked me to announce that this is a Baldwin." Borge may begin by playing "Happy Birthday" as Bach, Brahms, or Berlin would have written it, or he may ask for requests. In the latter case, he will make appropriate substitutions for the numbers he can not play: the lady who asked for "Doggie in the Window" had to be content with "Trees."

Even the few times during the evening that he plays serious music, Borge keeps his audience alert by mixing a strain from "Farmer in the Dell" into the classic. For most of the evening, however, he is introducing his few selections: "I must confess I know only two numbers: one is 'Clair de Lune.' The other isn't." And then he laughs, a sound like seals barking.

Borge also has a flair for slapstick. He falls off the piano bench, sits on the keyboard, or trips over the microphone, always unexpectedly and with a look of such complete surprise that it doesn't matter how many comedians have done it before. Borge concludes the evening with his phonetic puntuation routine, familiar now for a decade, and it could have been written that afternoon.

My one quibble with Borge's performance is his references to Denmark's recent scientific contribution. Borge's is a highly specialized humor and allusions to Copenhagen's celebrity are not within his bounds. But for Borge's symphony of comic perfection, he can certainly be forgiven this minor false note.