It's Waikiki again: Frank DeLima is back

By Wayne Harada
Advertiser Entertainment Editor

Frank DeLima brings his patented local schtick to his new gig at the Palace room in the Ohana Reef Towers Hotel with his backup band, Na Kolohe. Cory Lum • The Honolulu Advertiser Frank DeLima Featured in The Noodle Shop Days show, with Na Kolohe 8:30 p.m. Fridays, Saturdays Palace, 'Ohana Reef Towers Hotel $19.50, includes two drinks 923-SHOW or 922-6408

The show is a review of characters and scenes from the first 12 years of DeLima's 26-year Waikiki career, focusing on the days back when he used to perform at The Noodle Shop (now gone, except for the memories).

It's nostalgic, with a set re-creating a radio studio and vintage storefront. The Portuguese clown prince of comedy revives a handful of his wacky characters through brief melodic parodies, a more effective approach than his 25th anniversary show last year at the Hawaiian Waikiki Beach Hotel.

The show has been refined, refinished and revved up with a liberal dose of charm and polish, which is to say that recycling works here. Anticipation runs high if you remember the more informal shows DeLima used to do at The Noodle Shop (the sign has been resurrected on stage), and happily, DeLima delivers, delightfully as ever.

The remembrances are linked with simple but clever comedic bits. DeLima settles into a rocking chair and begins to interview himself: born July 8, 1949, at 11 p.m. at St. Francis Hospital; mom was Pearl DeLima (she was there the night I stopped by, so she took a bow). And as he reflects on his Pauoa Valley days, when mom was the queen of the Punchbowl Holy Ghost parade, he dances. When he talks about his dad's origins, at Ulupalakua, Maui, he sings and mimics a hula dancer.

And so on.

Neighbors listening to the radio, or watching TV, made an impact; DeLima was like a sponge, soaking up dialect, nuances of language, cultural cliches. You learn, happily, how he got turned on to Radio KOHO, the Kazekozo TV show; he sheds light on how he picked up the Chinese dialect and how he tuned into naniwabushi-style Japanese singing.

The past has affected DeLima's present. He makes fun of his first date, Claudia, with a reworked (and new) "Five Foot Two, Eyes of Blue," and reflects on his Mainland school days when he missed local food, via "So Ono for Stew" (subtitled "Haole Food Blues," and also new).

There are shreds of truthful details in his patter and prancing. These little snapshots are much like the quiltwork that sits on his rocker; they form the bigger picture.

Yes, he gets costumed once again as Imelda Marcos, wigged but shoeless, but singing "Filipino Christmas," among other tunes. Clearly, in DeLima's book, she is a figure of all seasons.

Lolobono, the sumotori, is back (with a reworked bodysuit), and DeLima wiggles through "E Huli Makou."

Bruce Springroll rocks out a couple of tunes, too.

And goodness gracious, Tita Turner shimmies and shakes, a river of rolling flesh and fringes.

While reflection may be the purpose of this outing (DeLima and his backers have recognized the need for locals to get back on track after Sept. 11, hence this comfort-food kind of a show), DeLima is as current as today, name-dropping in his KOHO news report, with such asides as "Osama is not Japanese name ... Oyama is," and making references to traffic cams and troubles at City Hall.

Na Kolohe, DeLima's backup band — Bobby Nishida (bass) and David Kauahikaua (electric keyboard) — provides sound support, always ready to improvise because of DeLima's often unscheduled antics.

Some other things never change, including DeLima's pitches for his latest CD and T-shirt. And, kook that he is, he's found an outrageous way to use his life-sized face image on the shirt, wearing one while peddling another, to squeeze out more laughter.