LA Review: 'The Prince of Atlantis'

In "The Prince of Atlantis," playwright Steven Drukman takes the universal desire of orphans and those given up for adoption to find their parents and meshes it with two antithetical approaches to life: imposing one's will on others and enriching oneself through any means at hand, including dishonesty or criminal behavior, and refusing to harm others, even if one's own happiness is sacrificed. These weighty themes are leavened by Italian-American characters from Boston who would feel at home on any TV series. Though the fit seems unforced, only the life-altering potential of the play's premise obscures the fact that in style, tone, and pace, the material is pure sitcom, albeit a sophisticated example of the genre.

The plot focuses on 40ish brothers Joey and Kevin Colletti (John Kapelos and Matthew Arkin). Imprisoned for petty crimes, Joey discovers a son he believes he fathered at the start of the Reagan era and convinces a reluctant Kevin to make contact. Through happenstance, the young man, Miles (Brett Ryback), shows up for a visit and mistakes the kindhearted Kevin for his biological father. Bolstered by their mutual love of literature, Miles and Kevin form a powerful familial bond, raising the question of whether nature or nurture has more influence. Complicating the story is Joey's girlfriend Connie (Nike Doukas), who is about to accept his long-awaited marriage proposal and is bent on gaining control of his frozen-fish empire.

As directed by Warner Shook, Drukman's script has the slick professionalism of a major movie or television production, augmented by Thomas Buderwitz's scenic design and Peter Maradudin's lighting. The prison set is nondescript, but Joey's home is an inspired shrine to sport fishing and sea motifs, replete with an octopus chandelier. The interior's reds, browns, tans, and blues generate the same warmth as the material.

The show's central gimmick is Joey and Kevin's use of "lake talk," the argot of their native Nonantum, one of several distinct neighborhoods in the Boston suburb of Newton, Mass. Drukman's comedic dialogue is loose, breezy, and informal, and his characters' stories, jokes, and references are enhanced by their lively street slang (and Philip D. Thompson's dialect coaching). The balding Kapelos has a broad grin and a hawklike face. Crude and forceful yet still charming, he exudes self-confidence as Joey spouts self-improvement bromides. By contrast, Arkin's deadpan Kevin is a sad sack puzzled by life, constantly pushed by Joey to avoid "ugly" truth and instead "varnish it into something prettier." Doukas is first-rate as the shrewd, downscale Connie, outspoken and fiercely protective of her turf yet emotional and deceptively pliable. Ryback's Miles seems the most artificial and scripted, a sweet, earnest guy still finding his way in life.

Miles and Kevin's simpatico is no accident. Drukman skillfully uses a confluence of parents and their sons to make his premise and themes resonate, and his artful denouement ties this sentimental sitcom's loose ends together in symmetrical fashion.

Presented by and at South Coast Repertory, 655 Town Center Dr., Costa Mesa. April 7–29. Tue., Wed., and Sun., 7:30 p.m.; Thu.–Sat., 8 p.m.; Sat. and Sun., 2:30 p.m. (No performance Sun., April 29, 7:30 p.m.) (714) 708-5555 or www.scr.org. Casting by Joanne DeNaut