Yabo Yablonsky's BJ Lang Presents Cyrano deals with a mad movie actor-director starring in and shooting, possibly in his mind only, a film of Cyrano de Bergerac. And here's Richmond Shepard, at the Richmond Shepard Theatre, as both title roles — roles he also played in Los Angeles under the direction of Yablonsky, an old friend. The phrase "vanity production" comes to mind. But in this case, the vanity seems somewhat justified: Shepard is a whirlwind on stage, and he gives this meditation on moviemaking and madness what spark it possesses.
In a nearly unadorned black-box space, Shepard — who the program says has been performing since at least 1952 — sets up a shot, playing not only Lang, a Hollywood has-been of dubious and unspecified accomplishment, but the cameraman, the secretary, the gay makeup artist, and other on-set denizens. His transitions are lightning quick and adept, with the strong suggestion that BJ Lang really is all these people, like Norman Bates in a hall of mirrors. Imagine a film director of Norma Desmond or Baby Jane Hudson lunacy, and you get an idea; moreover, Lang appears to know how crazy he is, asking his leading lady at one point, "How does it feel to be adored with something close to madness?"
She, Carlotta (Terri Durso), is a pretty Roxanne in a wheelchair, her arms tied to its arms — she can walk, all right, but to Lang that's the trouble, she may walk off the set. Back and forth their power games go, giving Durso some terrific screaming opportunities. Who Carlotta really is, how she got there, the year, the location, the circumstances of filmmaking — all are hazy, the better to support the notion that it's all a delusion. Cryptic it is, and dully directed by Lucy Ballard. But at under an hour, it doesn't wear out its welcome. And energy like Shepard's ought to be bottled.
Presented by Rothman Fairchild at the Richmond Shepard Theatre, 309 E. 26th St., NYC. Oct. 26-Nov. 4. Wed.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 3 p.m. (212) 684-2690.