Appropriately presented in a warehouse-like setting of rudimentary fixtures and an unfinished ceiling revealing insulation overhead, this production exposes the emotional guts of Tony Kushner's somewhat puerile correlation between Ronald Reagan's presidency and the rise to power of Adolph Hitler. As the only real-time character—a slightly punked street tough named Zillah—director Erica Rice also serves as narrator and conscience, juxtaposing Hitler's ascendancy and Kushner's obvious disgust for American government in the 1980s.
Though Rice masterfully pulls the show's strings, it is her talented cadre of players that fully creates Berlin's Bohemian artist community. Each character is torn between the increasing tide of Communism and his or her own opportunities for success in embracing fascism. With heart-wrenching agony, the single-named Enci plays Agnes Eggling, a bit-part film actress floating between ecstatic bliss with her Hungarian lover, Husz (the commanding Mihaly Szabados), and confused despair as her compatriots suffer brutality and fear at the hands of the burgeoning Nazi party. Rob Tepper's maligned homosexual, Nina Hauser's Dietrich-esque marquee idol, and Lisa Franks' androgynous designer of opinionated posters face decisions of near tragic significance with such depth that it is painful to realize they represent the legacies of untold millions.
Kushner blesses his characters with meaty monologues, none of which is delivered here with anything less than total clarity. Yet it's Szabados' condemnation of his compatriots' inability or unwillingness to mount a defense against the horror of their time that deals the harshest blow to our collective conscience. Equally strong but no less crucial are Rice's supporting players: Communist party organizers (Tova Epp and David Phillips) befriend Agnes while the selfishly hungry neighbor (Delia Javier) terrorizes our heroine over matters of self-preservation and subsistence. The paranormal visitor of the evening (David Reynolds as a bombastically threatening prince of darkness) stops by while on his way to even more horrific prospects.
Design elements are likewise raw and disturbing. Rice's sound uses of semi-metallic rock riffs. Epp and Gabriel Campbell provide a series of paneled walls covered in Eastern European political art starkly influenced by Szabados' unfiltered illumination. With only three remaining performances and a theatre space well off the beaten path, this journey through time and inhumanity is one worth every bit of effort to attend.
"A Bright Room Called Day," presented by and at the Friends and Artists Studio, 4648 Franklin Ave., Los Feliz. Thu.-Fri. 8 p.m., Jan. 22-Feb. 21. $10. (323) 908-6255.