Flying Karamazovs juggle music, jokes, objects -- and life's eternal questions

Bollywood dancing, Maimonides, Ralph Nader jokes, and a computer-driven set of drum pads called a Juggletron -- hmm, the Flying Karamazov Brothers must be in town.

Indeed they are, opening tonight at the American Repertory Theatre in Cambridge. And their current show, "Life: A Guide for the Perplexed (Convention Edition)," promises a typically Karamazovian blend of philosophy, jokes, music, and juggling -- with a little extra political commentary thrown in, in honor of the other big show that's here next week.

At its core, though, this show is about the fundamental questions that strike people "when we reach `un certain age,' as they say," says Brother Paul Magid. (As aficionados know, the Karamazovs are neither actual Karamazovs nor actual brothers, nor do they fly.) "Is this what I want to be for the rest of my life, or do I want something different? Do I re-up, or do I do something different?"

Those are the questions posed by the show's central character, played by Magid. Given the troupe's origins in the San Francisco hippie-busker tradition, though, it's only natural that such questions should be asked and answered in the form of various virtuosic feats of juggling.

Oh, and Maimonides comes into it, too. The show, which is notable in the Karamazov oeuvre for having more of a plot than earlier editions, takes its title from the 12th-century philosopher's book about these same basic questions. Its universal appeal, Magid says in a phone interview, comes from the fact that "it's about something that actually occurs to everybody": getting older.

But kids love it, too, he notes. Why? "I think it's just really silly," he says.

Well, yes. There's a satire of the Indian epic known as the Mahabharata, called "Mwabogitba" -- that would be the acronym for the Men With a Bit of Gray in Their Beards Association. There's the Juggletron, which puts four jugglers in the center of a circle of six MIDI-driven drum pads and has their juggling produce various sounds in a six-octave range. Hippocrates and Hammurabi both put in an appearance, Magid says, "for no particular reason -- and the kids love it. They're such silly guys."

But the Karamazovs do take their silliness seriously. In fact, that may be the secret of their appeal to people who would ordinarily not bother to watch a lot of juggling.

"We don't think of ourselves as jugglers," says another Brother, Howard Patterson, by phone. "Juggling is a thing that we really dig. But I think of it as theater, comedy, music, juggling, in that order."

Music, Magid and Patterson say, plays a more prominent role than ever in this show, and not just because of the Juggletron. With the addition of several "new guys," Magid says ("they've only been around for six years"), the Brothers have reached a higher level of musical ability. "Now the group is entirely composed of juggler-musician-eggheads," he explains.

That means they've taken one of their juggling innovations, "Jazz," or improvisational juggling, to a new level as well. With syncopated throwing and intricate rules, Patterson says, the "Jazz" segment of the show becomes a dazzling demonstration of the rhythmic and musical possibilities of tossing stuff in the air and catching it.

There's even more to it than that, Magid says. Because each participant has to memorize hundreds of rules about what to throw when, and to respond to three other people's unscripted moves within those rules, he says, "It's a real lesson in cooperation, improvisation, and trust."

If that sounds like a political statement, it's no accident. The Brothers view their work as an inherently political art form, and the confluence of this show and the Democratic National Convention only brings that longstanding subtext a little closer to the surface.

"In juggling, you want to give your partner the best thing you possibly can, or it's not going to work," Magid says. "If you don't do that, it all falls to the ground, or you get conked on the head." More hopefully, he adds, juggling demonstrates another fact of political life: "By working together, people can do the impossible."

For his part, Patterson plans to put politics into action at intermission every night. He'll be in the lobby, registering voters. "There are varying degrees of power in our society," Patterson says, "but everyone does get a vote."

It's a question of getting as many people into the act as possible, he says. And Magid is hopeful that the act itself will have a thing or two to say to people about how to live in the world.

"The thing about juggling," says Magid, "is it's the most honest theater. It's all out front; there are no wires, no mirrors. And juggling is dropping. It's defined by its failure. And we're OK with that. If there wasn't that tension, it wouldn't exist. To try to have the perfect thing is part of the problem in the world. There is no perfection; there never was. And that's the perfection."

Louise Kennedy can be reached at kennedy@globe.com.

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The Flying Karamazov Brothers perform ‘‘Life: A Guide for the Perplexed (Convention Edition)’’ at the American Repertory Theatre in Cambridge tonight through Aug. 8. For tickets, call 617-547-8300 or visit www.amrep.org.