The cell phones of yesteryear served two purposes: making fuzzy phone calls and playing snake. With the current proliferation of smart phones on college campuses nationwide, access to media has achieved a level of effortlessness that has never been paralleled in the history of mobile technology in America.

As anyone who has seen the Coen brothers’ “Burn After Reading” (2008) will know, modified household appliances can be used as female sex aids. This should perhaps come as little surprise: from soiled underwear available for sale in Japanese vending machines to “zoophilia,” the human desire for sexual gratification has left no stone unturned. In this context, the inception of mechanized dildos should raise few eyebrows — women have a right to orgasm when they want, how they want and without the inconvenience of a sexual partner.

This weekend only, the Yale Cabaret presents a daring double bill entitled “Alter Egos: A One Wo/Man Show Festival.” On the one hand, “The Fallout of Pearl Harbor” constitutes a self-loathing autobiographical one-man show about a drug-addicted student’s stay at a mental institution; on the other hand, “Portraits Untitled” showcases four different characters as they navigate their lives in our increasingly complicated world. The former show represents the worst of life and, unfortunately, the worst of theater; the latter, the best of both.

Sometimes, the magic’s in the mistakes.
At one point during the Sept. 23 showing of Euripides’ “Orestes,” two actors found themselves unable to perform a necessary shoe removal, and the action stalled.

Set in the forgotten corners of Appalachia, Yale Cabaret’s final show of the semester, “Language of Angels,” follows a group of old friends dealing with the aftermath of a mysterious tragedy. “Dawson’s Creek” meets David Lynch in this eerie play, when one of the friends, Celie, goes missing during a normal evening of teenage debauchery at a cave.

Patrons casually sip drinks at tables that surround a minimalist stage. The lights go off, then on, and the show that follows is, quite simply wondrous. And exhilarating, awe-inspiring, soothing and revivifying. Welcome to a world occupied by the likes of Louis Armstrong, Benny Goodman and Art Blakey.

It was not until the very end that I noticed the full title of this week’s Cabaret show: “Babs the Dodo — a sad comedy.”

A single light illuminates the face of a well-dressed man onstage.

As I descended the stairs of the Cabaret for the debut of “Hold for Beauty,” I was already in a bad mood.

Dante’s “Divine Comedy” is a staple of the so-called western canon. Aged and distinguished — though mostly just aged — like fine wine and pungent cheese, it’s the classic man’s classic.

During the intermission at Wednesday’s dress rehearsal for their Fall Show, the 21 Yaledancers trickle out from backstage wearing sweatshirts and leg warmers. They sit in hyper-extended center splits or trace their toes along the ground in a quick rond de jambe as they reflect on the pieces in the first act.

Despite members being afflicted by illness and horrific physical injuries, A Different Drum’s spring show will have you jumpin’ an ’a-jivin’ in your seats.

Louis’s self-conscious narration is the trademark of “Shipwrecked! An Entertainment — The Amazing Adventures of Louis de Rougemont (as told by himself).”

Descending the stairs into the Yale Cabaret, one settles into a quiet performance space reflective of the New Haven night scene, hidden and imbued with a sense of charm.

Before even a word is uttered, it is clear that this is not a purely intellectual interpretation of Shakespeare — this is the Shakespeare you feel in your gut.

A production that defies every sort of convention and lives to tell the tale is a very rare thing. Perhaps even rarer are those, such as this, that slavishly conform and limply flounder.

Despite the heavy risk of being bulldozed by monstrously large eighteen-wheelers in the middle of the bustling food terminal that the Long Wharf Theater calls home, life-threatening stumbles into the parking lot prove to be a small price to pay for the treasure of a performance waiting inside.

There are several things that denote a mediocre production within its first few scenes — a missed cue, a monotonal voice or an actor’s sudden fall into the front row. I’ve noticed another lately: the phrase “I’m going to Iraq.”

So you know how ever since the age of six, you’ve been fascinated by the glitz, glamour and hairdos of the rich and famous? Remember sighing over the red carpets and shameless shopping sprees that are all part of the glittering lives of admired celebrities?
Or maybe not.

Gas masks, paint, wooden houses, owls and more paint. If these images don’t immediately come to mind when you hear “Summer Heat,” the name of the Undergraduate Art Exhibition at the School of Art, the show may come as a surprise.