INDISCRETIONS
at the Alhecama Theatre
Reviewed by Donna Mulgrew
If Indiscretions were merely a recollection of the love between the granddaughter of a bookbinder and the grandson of a semicolon collector in pre-war France, then we'd simply have a sweet tale to pass an evening. But when the playwright is Jean Cocteau and the director Robert Grande-Weiss, we are treated to an evening of smart, deliciously wicked farce.
When Les Parents Terribles (the play's original title) premiered in 1938, the Municipal Council of Paris closed it down on the premise that it promoted incest. Just because the smothering mother Yvonne coerces her 22-year-old son Michael into usurping his father's place in her heart? Or because Michael's father George seeks the love of young Madeleine, who reminds him of his non-existent daughter?
Trumping up charges of immorality against Cocteau's work may have been the Council's way of dealing with issues that sometimes strike too close to home. "Oedipus complex" and "dysfunctional family" weren't terms that had come into vogue at the time.
Jeremy Sams' translation of Cocteau's work and the five-actor Ensemble Theatre Company cast superbly craft an enjoyable, if somewhat disturbing, repast. Their timing and delivery is right on the mark. For example, Gretchen Evans gives us a lovable if compulsively tidy Aunt Leonie; she nails just the right inflection, just the right mannerisms to keep the audience from resenting her devious plotting.
The men of the cast, Robert Lesser as George and Eric Almquist as Michael, have clearly spent time getting to know their characters. George may be an inept inventor of useless gadgets (such as an underwater submachine gun) and a gutless husband, but he seems justified in searching for companionship from another woman. In addition to getting Michael's nuances just right, Almquist disingenuously surprises the audience with just a bit of frontal nudity in the opening bath scene of the second act.
Sharing the bathtub with Almquist, along with laurels for acting, is Abby Craden as Madeleine, the object of both father's and son's affections. Kudos for casting Craden, who looks and behaves just enough like Michael's Aunt Leonie to create interesting reverberations. But the production owes much of its success to Alison Coutts as the eternally convalescing Yvonne. Coutts' Yvonne manipulates the entire family, and the audience, into loving her despite her annoying neuroses.
The well-designed production wonderfully features a French-looking bedroom that doesn't overdo the French connection, as so often is the case.
"Indiscretions," presented by the Ensemble Theate Company of Santa Barbara at the Alhecama Theatre, 914 Santa Barbara St., Santa Barbara. May 1-31. (805) 962-8606.
A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM
at the Gascon Center Theatre
Reviewed by Paul Birchall
An enchanting production of the Bard's frothiest comedy, this Midsummer is presented by the all-woman ensemble of the L.A. Women's Shakespeare Company. While it's at first a little disconcerting to see characters like Demetrius, Oberon, and Lysander performed by androgynous-looking ladies in male drag, we quickly forget the non-traditional casting, which ultimately becomes a secondary factor in our enjoyment of this cleverly staged, delightfully funny piece.
In fact, the female drag is used so cunningly, it's almost a midsummer dyke's dream--and it adds a satirical level to the proceedings, deftly and adroitly spoofing the foibles of male behavior. Some of the portrayals elegantly spoof sexist male stereotypes: Lysander (director Lisa Wolpe) is played as a macho Fonzie wannabe in a motorcycle jacket, whose wooing of Hermia (a vivacious Melanee Murray) seems mostly a device to give him something to brag about in the locker room with the boys. And Demetrius (Susan Kelejian), with "his" shoulder-length hair, slight mustache, floor-length jacket, and constant crotch-grabbing, reminds one of a Sunset Boulevard nightclub bouncer.
Elsewhere, the sexuality of the performer is irrelevant to the role she plays. Fran Bennett, in her powerful, charismatic turns as the Duke and the fairy king Oberon, couldn't be more authoritative or magical, while Colleen Kane's lovable, slightly sinister, and capricious Puck is a delight every moment she's onstage.
As director, Wolpe demonstrates an adroit and highly polished sense of humor; her production crackles with hilariously depicted physical comedy. The slightly clumsy updating of the play's setting to urban New York, with occasional references to "the 'hood" replacing "the wood," seem anachronistically unnecessary. But several dance interludes, performed by a group of adorable little girl "fairies," are beguiling. Marianne Schneller's colorfully inventive lighting design, and Kelejian's cunningly rendered costumes (including Bottom's grotesque but sweet donkey's head) are also wholly appealing.
"A Midsummer Night's Dream," presented by the Los Angeles Women's Shakespeare Company at the Gascon Center Theatre, Helms Bakery Complex, 8737 Washington Blvd., Culver City. Apr. 16-May 17. (310) 289-2111.
NORA
at the San Josƒ Stage
Reviewed by Judy Richter
In adapting Henrik Ibsen's A Doll's House into a 90-minute play, filmmaker Ingmar Bergman stripped the drama to its emotional essentials, focusing on the events leading to Nora Helmer's decision to leave husband and children to discover herself. San Josƒ Stage Company remains true to Bergman's intentions, staging a production that focuses on Nora's transformation from trophy wife to independent woman.
Director Kenneth Kelleher allows no superfluous action, no unmotivated moment. All the characters remain seated within dim pools of light around the playing area when they're not in a scene, perhaps bearing witness to their influence on Nora. Although this device is dramatically effective, it sometimes interferes with sightlines for people in the first row, which is on the same level as the playing area.
The real key to the success of this production is Terri McMahon's performance as Nora. Her Nora is a woman who uses charm and feminine wiles to get what she wants from her husband, Torvald (Patrick Lawlor), who apparently loves her though he treats her like a child. There seems to be a strong erotic attraction between them--but in retrospect one wonders how mutual it is. McMahon's subtle body language and expressive eyes often say things that belie Nora's words. She says she dearly loves her husband, even apparently believes that she does--but McMahon shows us the tiny questioning moments that pave the way toward her decision to leave. It's a superlative performance.
Lawlor is a strong Torvald, a man secure in his moral convictions, a man of his Victorian times. He considers himself a good husband who's the unquestioned head of the household. The idea of marriage as a pairing of equals never occurred to him. His world literally crumbles when she leaves.
The rest of the cast also is outstanding, with Domenique Lozano as Nora's friend, Mrs. Linde, who ironically chooses the opposite path from Nora; Frank Widman as Nils Krogstad, the man from whom Nora secretly borrowed money to save Torvald's life, and Gary S. Martinez as Dr. Rank, a dying family friend. All of them create believable characters who play well opposite McMahon.
Martinez and McMahon have an especially strong scene in which she massages his shoulders and presses herself to the back of his head as an apparent prelude to asking him for money to get out of her dilemma. When he confesses that he has always loved her, however, she recoils, unwilling to accept any emotional ties, however short-lived they might be.
This is the kind of production that leaves one thinking long after leaving the theatre. Remembered details add new insights, enriching the experience. The set design by Marc Haniuk, costumes by Ardith Ann Gray, and lighting by Dan Scott also contribute to this memorable production.
"Nora," presented by and at the San Josƒ Stage Company, 490 S. First St., San Josƒ. Apr. 24-May 17. (408) 283-7142.
A NIGHT IN NOVEMBER
at the Plough and Stars
Reviewed by Kerry Reid
Marie Jones' powerful, funny, and compelling one-man play (originally reviewed at Venue 9, now running at the Plough and Stars pub) about a Protestant dole clerk discovering his soul against the backdrop of the 1993-'94 World Cup Games, receives a blistering, amazing, and triumphant West Coast premiere, thanks to Paul Barnett's virtuoso performance and Douglas Dildine's careful yet buoyant direction.
Barnett's Kenneth Norman McAllister is, at the outset of the two-act play, a smug and self-satisfied bloke whose acceptance into the local golf club marks a high point in his existence (particularly since he can rub his heightened social status in the nose of his Catholic boss). But his attendance at a 1993 football match between Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland in the company of his ferociously anti-Catholic father-in-law and other Unionist louts stirs his consciousness, and starts him on a journey of exploration, both of his own prejudices and of the barriers existing between himself and his family, his Catholic superior, and his own confused sense of national identity and pride. By play's end, he has shucked off the good, gray, respectable limits of his existence and experienced the sensation of being truly "Irish" for the first time by flying to New York for the 1994 World Cup match between Ireland and Italy.
In many ways, Jones' script reminded me of Anna Deavere Smith's Twilight: Los Angeles. Although not strictly documentary, Jones has an uncanny ear for capturing the cadences of her characters. And, much like Smith's piece, Jones ends her play with a grace note amid tragedy--suggesting that the salvation of one soul from ancient hatreds can serve as a beacon of brighter days ahead.
Barnett's performance is stunning. He moves with chameleon-like grace from character to character, yet never loses Kenneth's viewpoint as he guides us on this tangled journey. And Dildine's creative direction keeps the evening moving without curbing any of the messy exuberance and roiling rage that Kenneth experiences. (In a particularly inspired bit, Barnett's Kenneth expresses his joy at running away to New York by singing "Chitty Chitty Bang Bang" at the top of his lungs as he drives to Shannon Airport.) Dildine's set design is also admirably simple, consisting of a section of bleachers and blown-up cut-outs of children and soldiers surrounding the stage. Praise also goes to Patrick Francis' lovely accompanying arrangement of traditional Irish melodies, played with subtle precision by Francis himself on guitar.
As the Northern Ireland peace accords move toward a referendum vote, it would be hard to imagine a more timely evening of theatre. Yet Jones' piece is not merely topical. Instead, it serves as a reminder that the struggle for peace is never decided solely by the powers that be, but rather inside each individual, no matter how flawed.
"A Night in November," presented by River Crana Productions at the Plough and Stars, 116 Clement St., San Francisco. Apr. 27-May 25. (415) 751-9409.
TAKING LEAVE
at the Ricketson Theatre
Reviewed by Dianne Zuckerman
Can the disorientation of Alzheimer's disease be viewed as paralleling the madness of Lear? Playwright Nagle Jackson makes a convincing case that it can in Taking Leave, a rich new dramedy about a contemporary Seattle family in crisis.
Our first glimpse of Eliot (Tony Church), whose decline has left him unable to read the Shakespearean texts he once taught, is when the frail-looking former professor bumbles confusedly into his study, trying to evade his overwhelmed caregiver (Kathleen M. Brady). Off to one side, the younger, pre-Alzheimer's Eliot (Michael Santo) watches pensively, speaking alternately to us and to the man he has become, a conceit that facilitates graceful shifts between the present and the past.
Punctuated by lines from King Lear delivered in flashback classroom lectures, Taking Leave focuses on Eliot's leave-taking of his rational self as well as on the reactions of his daughters, who clash over whether to put him in a nursing home. Ineffectual Alma (Jeanne Paulsen) is in denial about Eliot's deterioration, while Liz (Susan Cella), the realist, struggles to wrap up loose ends. Cordelia (Jennifer Schelter) is a black-leathered rebel just back from a jaunt to--where else?--France.
Directed with a subtle, expert touch by Jackson and beautifully acted by the entire ensemble, Taking Leave provokes a great deal of compassionate laughter, but it also manages to be heartbreaking, as Eliot rages in his study as surely as Lear did in his storm. Enhanced by Bill Curley's handsome set and Charles R. MacLeod's mood-enhancing lighting, Taking Leave proves a poignant experience with a fresh perspective on coming to terms with a familiar dilemma. By the final scene, as Cordelia declares, "The young attend the old," Taking Leave also embraces a revised sense of letting go--of preconceptions, rigid patterns, and past expectations.
"Taking Leave," presented by the Denver Center Theatre Company at the Ricketson Theatre, Helen Bonfils Theatre Complex, 14th and Curtis Streets, Denver. Apr. 23-June 13. (800) 641-1222.
UNCLE VANYA
in the Angus Bowmer Theatre
Reviewed by Dani Dodge
The lights go black. A Chopinesque tune fills the theatre. A spotlight reveals a man sleeping on top of a grand piano. A single sheet of newspaper is his blanket. The lights go black. And Uncle Vanya begins.
Oregon Shakespeare Festival's production of Anton Chekhov's masterpiece is bursting with powerful images. Despite some acting that can't quite achieve the depth written into the play, director Libby Appel creates a piece that illuminates the struggle for meaning in middle age.
The stage design by Robert Brill adds to this reflection: The back wall of the stage is covered with what appears to be a smoked mirror, but the mirror-like surface is weirdly warped, redrawing the scenes onstage as some kind of French impressionistic painting.
The most beautiful character contemplated in this backdrop is the one intended to be the most ugly, Sonya (Robynn Rodriguez). Although her appearance is plain, Rodriguez's intensity is stunning as Sonya gorges on what life has fed: the joy of loving and the sorrow of knowing the feeling will never be returned. Also shining onstage is Robyn Goodrin Nordli, who takes on Yelena Andreyevna with an easy grace and charm.
Unfortunately, some of the actors in this play became shrill when pressed. Richard Elmore, for instance, plays Vanya with such a sniveling patheticism paired with overdone hysterical rage that it's difficult to find anything to like in this lost soul.
All of the scene-setting elements of the play seem to reinforce the themes well. Costume designer Galina Solovyeva puts Yelena in flowing clothes that enhance her attractiveness; her entrance is made in a white dress and a wraparound white veil that drapes her shoulders. The look is almost ethereal. And her last scene is played in a smart hat with a black veil. Composed by Larry Delinger, the glorious piano pieces that mimic yet take license with Chopin add yet another dimension to the play.
"Uncle Vanya," presented by Oregon Shakespeare Festival at the Angus Bowmer Theatre, 15 S. Pioneer St., Ashland. Apr. 22-Oct. 31. (541) 482-4331.
PIPPIN
at the Charles E. Probst Center for the Performing Arts
Reviewed by Terri Roberts
Decades ago, maverick choreographer Bob Fosse shattered Broadway's smooth-as-silk notion of dance with his Pajama Game showstopper "Steam Heat." The slouched hat, splayed fingers, crooked angles, and sharp, staccato movements introduced in that classic number have since become the late Fosse's indelible fingerprints.
Flash forward to 1998, and Fosse fever has hit Los Angeles big time with multi-scale productions of some of his best works: The Actors' Co-op home-run hit Damn Yankees is still on, and this fall the Ahmanson Theatre will open its 1998-'99 season with Fosse: A Celebration in Song and Dance. And this week witnesses on no less than three landmark Fosse shows: the long-awaited revival of Chicago at the Ahmanson, the Reprise! Concert Series production of Pajama Game, and Sunday night's successful premiere of the Theatre League's spiffy new production of Pippin.
Director Glenn Casale moves us swiftly through the story of Pippin (Eric Kunze), eldest son of Charlemagne, King of the Holy Roman Empire, as he goes in search of meaning and fulfillment for his life. Guided by the Leading Player (Todd Hunter), a razzle-dazzle magic man, Pippin tries to find himself through war, sex, rebellion, even the daily drudge work of everyday life. Not until he meets Catherine (Tammy Amerson) does he discover that the only real magic he needs is to be connected to someone he loves.
Kunze and Hunter are the show's big standouts. Both possess strong, clear, dynamic voices and an abundance of charisma and charm. Amerson's Catherine could be a little more on the sweet side for the hearts-and-valentine lovefest "Kind of Woman," but she is focused, straightforward, and honest in the wry but wise "I Guess I'll Miss the Man." (The score and lyrics are by Stephen Schwartz, the book by Roger O. Hirson.)
Ruth Gottschall is a big crowd pleaser as Pippin's conniving stepmother, Fastrada, and Will MacMillan is a properly self-absorbed Charlemagne (though he tends to sing a bit flat). Gregg Engle is a suitable Lewis, Pippin's muscular-but-mindless half-brother. Estelle Harris' Berthe misses the great feistiness of the part, and, on opening night, missed some of the words (and pitch) in "Time to Start Living."
A word of caution to parents: Veteran Fosse dancer Gwen Hillier recreates the original choreography for this production, which includes a particularly provocative and sexually suggestive dance number. Signs posted in the lobby indeed warn that some choreography is not suitable for young children. So unless you want to explain to the kiddies what Pippin is doing spying on people through a keyhole, what those two women are doing together, or why he's spanking a girl who's done nothing wrong, it's probably best to leave the young ones at home. For the rest, though, it's an enjoyable evening of fun, fantasy, and finding love.
"Pippin," presented by the Theatre League at the Charles E. Probst Center for the Performing Arts, Thousand Oaks Civic Arts Plaza, 2100 East Thousand Oaks Blvd., Thousand Oaks. May 1-10. (805) 583-8700. Also at Music Hall, 260 S. Church St., Tucson. May 14-17. (520) 791-4101. Also at Symphony Hall, Phoenix Arts Plaza, 225 E. Adams St., Phoenix. June 2-7. (620) 262-7205.
THE WATER CHILDREN
at the Matrix Theatre
Reviewed by Jamie Painter
Depending on your religious and political ideology, you may or may not enjoy Wendy MacLeod's latest play, The Water Children, which addresses the heated national debate over abortion. But it's pretty safe to say that if you're a die-hard fan of such right-wingers as Rush Limbaugh or Jesse Helms, you are likely not to agree with the stance taken by MacLeod.
However, if you can remain open to the ideas presented in this story, there are a number of ethical questions raised here that are well worth pondering long after leaving the theatre. Besides exploring different sides of the abortion argument, MacLeod gracefully illustrates the inner turmoil that a woman goes through when making the difficult decision to terminate a pregnancy.
As with all productions staged at the Matrix, this play has a double cast that rotates. In the evening reviewed, Pam Dawber (of Mork & Mindy fame) starred as Megan, a pro-choice actress who lands a high-paying role in a commercial for the right-to-life movement. When an unexpected romance blooms between Megan and the movements' leader, Randall (Gregg Henry), Megan's world unravels.
Henry is superb in this difficult role, and plays his character with both humanity and ferocity. I wish I could say that Dawber's performance was equally strong, but unfortunately she was inconsistent, sometimes stumbling over lines of dialogue as if they were tongue twisters and lacking a certain intensity needed to convincingly play Megan.
While the subject matter treads some serious ground, the production has some very humorous moments, thanks to MacLeod's skillful hand, Lisa James' direction, and the performers, who also include Cindy Katz as Megan's liberal lesbian roommate; Sarah Bibb and JD Cullum as fanatical anti-abortion activists; Claudette Nevins in the multiple roles of Megan's agent, mother, and cat, and Time Winters, who also plays variety of roles, including Megan's HIV-positive hairdresser and a Japanese Buddhist priest.
Ultimately, though, The Water Children is not a comedy. In addition to having mixed feelings about sharing a bed with the enemy, Megan is tormented by her guilt over an abortion she had as a teenager. Throughout the play, she is visited by the grown ghost of the son she never had (Christopher Gorham)--a storytelling device that is more irritating than effective and feels too much like liberal guilt-assuaging propaganda.
The Japanese-influenced set design by Deborah Raymond and Dorian Vernacchio is appropriately minimalist, and Keth Endo's lighting also deserves recognition.
"The Water Children, presented by and at the Matrix Theatre, 7657 Melrose Ave., Los Angeles. Apr. 25-July 13. (213) 852-1445.
IT'S ONLY A PLAY
at Theatre East
Reviewed by Brad Schreiber
Terrence McNally's It's Only a Play is not so much a backstage play as a back-stab play. Its comically over-theatrical denizens race in and out of the bedroom of neophyte Broadway play producer Julia Budder (Kathleen Taylor) with incessant self-concern, as TV actor James Wicker (Jeff Blumberg) has returned to support playwright Peter Austin (Paul Witten) and his opening night party for The Golden Egg. Foul-mouthed leading actress Virginia Noyes (Suzanne Hunt) and bad-boy experimental director Frank Finger (Robert Factor) are also part of the crew that stews over reviews, exacerbated by the arrival of vicious critic Ira Drew (Christopher Weeks), who carries a prop gun to keep irate actors at bay.
McNally knows how to hilariously mix and match the neuroses of these players, but his Act Two bogs down with gooey homages to the importance of American theatre. Director Stu Berg lets things slow to a crawl during a particularly lumpy "prayer" conducted by Witten. What does work dramatically is Hunt's heartfelt tirade about trying to survive as an aging actress, executed with perfect restraint. The serviceable cast has its strong points in Hunt and self-proclaimed "Earth Mother" Taylor, whose ability crunching numbers still doesn't negate that she's a marvelous ditz.
In the end, the indubitably talented McNally wants both comedic laceration and a paean to New York theatre, which he cannot quite integrate, with a switcheroo ending that pulls the rug out from under an amused but confused audience.
"It's Only a Play," presented by and at Theatre East, 12655 Ventura Blvd., Studio City. Apr. 30-June 7. (818) 760-4160.
THE SOUND OF MUSIC
at the Eastside Performance Center
Review by Jeremy Kemp
This closing production of the Musical Theatre Company's season of "all-time favorites" is theatre by the numbers--unflawed but basically lacking any sense of challenge, creativity, or freshness. Rather than striking off into new terrain, or even reinterpreting this 40-year-old Broadway classic, the MTC faithfully delivers expected goods but with very stiff performances.
The story is straightforward enough: A postulate leaves the convent because she can't help singing, falls in with an over-disciplined family, teaches the children to sing and the father to love again. They escape occupied Austria after winning a singing festival.
Voices vary from rich and melodious to overly loud and terribly off-key. Debbie Hunter as Maria Rainer dutifully belts off Rodgers and Hammerstein classics such as "The Sound of Music" and "My Favorite Things" with appropriate aplomb, but her rendition of "I Have Confidence" is marred by an awkward onstage costume change. Her "Do Re Mi" is a Julie Andrews carbon copy, except that some of the children in this production appear to be tone-deaf, though cute. And in another scene, Hunter and Gary Powell (as Captain Von Trapp), profess their love in "Something Good" with more awkwardness than romantic spirit.
Barbara Irvin as the Mother Abbess and Pilar Millhollen as Liesl lend heavenly voices to the show, with "Climb Every Mountain" and "Sixteen Going on Seventeen" providing some much-needed strength. Irvin is an audience favorite with an excellent singing voice, though her delivery of spoken lines isn't nearly as strong. Millhollen is radiant and kind to the ear throughout. She even moves well with partner David Larsen in mini-waltz by choreographer Joe Bennett.
The best acting of the evening is accomplished by Jan Powell as Elsa Schrader, the Captain's vampy fiancee. Where others prance around, aping cinematic history, Powell steps off the celluloid to build a living, breathing person. As an accomplished director and founder of Portland's Tygress Heart Shakespeare Company, Powell obviously has her craft well in hand. And with some wonderfully hideous costumes by Sandra Kaufman, Powell's frau is a treat for the eye, as well.
Conductor Richard Bower is lucky in that he has the best material to work from: Richard Rodgers' hummable score. The music is beautiful and the orchestra loud, even behind thick black drapes.
"The Sound of Music," presented by the Musical Theatre Company at the Eastside Performance Center, 531 SE 14th, Portland. Apr. 24-May 17. (503) 224-5411.
THE NIGHTINGALE AND THE ROSE
at the 24th Street Theatre
Reviewed by Sally Johnson
The Glorious Repertory Company joins the current Oscar Wilde vogue with The Nightingale and the Rose, taking Wilde's intensely erotic children's fable--about a bird that impales its breast against a thorn so that its blood might color the rose a young man needs to win his true love--and using it as a motif for a lesson in racial tolerance and the power of sacrificial love.
Set in the segregated South of the 1920s, half of the action of this new framing device deals with a curse that has frozen the paddle wheel of a Mississippi steamboat called the Delta Queen--ever since a black man named Lucas was tossed overboard and killed by a sinister white policeman (Doug Burch) who continues to visit the boat to collect "rent." The other half involves Rose (Lydia Hannibal), a black woman hired to sing on the boat. Rose is wooed by a sincere but uneducated black handyman named Jonas (Karl Calhoun) but secretly loves Theo (Stephen Thorne), the ship's white bookkeeper.
Together she and Theo read stories, including Wilde's The Nightingale and the Rose. And when they do, their soft Southern drawls stiffly click into formal English accents. During these dreamy interludes, their movements slow down, the lights dim, and a back-lit scrim upstage frames the silhouette of a slowly flapping nightingale with a crimson glow. It's hokey, but we get the picture. Still, it's too bad for Rose that impressionable Theo has set his sights on the ship owner's on-again, off-again floozy, Moll (Stacy Cunningham).
Hannibal offers a pleasing presence in the pivotal role of Rose (who represents the martyred nightingale in Wilde's story), and her singing voice is very pretty. Jay McAdams and Cheryl Crabtree are the desperate co-owners of the boat that refuses to budge until exorcised. And Bruce Bierman has a cameo as a hapless customer lured on board.
With the assistance of Ruth Judkowitz's cricket and water sound effects and Richard Allen's music, director Debbie Devine creates a mood of dark New Orleans intrigue, but the script is clunky, and the direction starts to unravel halfway through the evening. Some passages are as slow as blackstrap molasses, and the heat of passion has been distinctly watered down, probably because the production is designed for a mixed audience of both children and adults. It is performed without an intermission.
"The Nightingale and the Rose," presented by the Glorious Repertory Company at the 24th Street Theatre, 1117 W. 24th St., Los Angeles. Apr. 24-May 17. (213) 745-6516.
DARLING QUINTS
at the Celebration Theatre
Reviewed by Scott Proudfit
Caring for five babies at once is too much for anyone, it would seem. Turns out, for Big Queen Productions, it's actually too little. These are the hilariously twisted minds who brought us one of last year's funniest drag shows, Go Aks Alice. This time they turn their wigged heads and tapping feet to the story of the Dionne Quintuplets, that Canadian freak show, which went from being their nation's cash cow to its biggest scandal.
These five girls were essentially raised in a big pen at the hospital they were born in, where the public could pay to gawk at them. At the age of nine, they returned to their parents' home, only to face emotional abuse from their jealous mother and sexual abuse from their randy father. It would seem that this wild story is a perfect match for the creative team at Big Queen, but the story is actually too small, with not enough plot points, musical possibilities, and, frankly, not enough abuse to carry the evening.
Go Aks Alice had so many hilarious characters (many of whom threatened harm for the starry-eyed protagonist), but Darling Quints confines itself to the five girls and their parents. All five girls love each other very much, so there is very little bitchiness in the show--one element that really made Alice hysterical. Moreover, the musical numbers (again by Mr. Dan and the cast) are fairly conservative in Quints, compared to last year's outrageous spectacles. It's like having five na•ve Alices and no crazy friends to lead them into trouble, upbraid them for their innocence, or torture them with body consciousness.
Of course, all the performers have their moments, and the show is by no means a flop. John Copeland's sweetness as Cecile, the brooding quint, is particularly suited to his number "When Will I Find Love?" Eric Waddell is right on as the big, abusive mama; he just needs more to do. Robert Ring, as the sweet caretaker Yvonne, who bears the brunt of the abuse, performs the only real standout number, "Don't Call Me That," an angry insistence on individuality from the group. And Ring's dance is the one time in the show when the choreography is truly a riot.
My favorite, as in Alice, is again Tim Bennett, this time as Emilie, the most religious of the five girls, who also suffers from epilepsy, leading to some very funny scenes. Bennett has an incredible sense of a teenage girl's prissiness and cattiness. Your eyes go to him in the group scenes just to watch his reactions.
I'll be first in line for the next offering from Big Queen Productions. Let's hope that next time they try to bite off as much as we've seen they can chew.
"Darling Quints," presented by Big Queen Productions, at Celebration Theatre, 7051 Santa Monica Blvd., Hollywood. May 1-June 20. (213) 666-4266.
HAPPY HOUR
at the Groundling Theatre
Reviewed by Wenzel Jones
As those who have worked that particular shift know, happy hour eventually devolves into something much different, as does this self-scripted solo outing by Tim Bagley. The title comes from his family's tradition of all joining for cocktails whenever they get together. You may safely assume that Bagley has issues with his family. What seems at the outset to be another revenge-through-impersonation sketch exercise shows a glimmer of being something with truly dramatic potential--but only much too late in the program.
The family is established through the conceit of taking a group photograph. Bagley nicely delineates each family member but doesn't really create the sense that once he goes on to another character the previous one is still with us. Deanna Oliver appears to have been an indulgent director, allowing her actor to get away with some sloppy space work and allowing a few segments to run needlessly long. The succession of wacky family members continues, achieving the truly theatrical only during a segment in which Tim goes inside the head of his schizophrenic sister, a lovely little song moment that beguiles.
Only much later do we find that the anger Tim has toward his family has to do with his deceased boyfriend, Bill. While the family's absence from the funeral galls Tim, they felt it would be too intrusive on a relationship that has been kept quite private (though sexuality itself seems to be no issue at all). This whiff of dramatic tension arrives too late, however, and is seriously undercut by an emotional mugging that takes place when Bagley runs a tape of the Gay Men's Chorus singing one of their more maudlin medleys for no purpose other than to let us, you know, think about things. Bagley is a performer of considerable talent and charm, and seems to have much more of a story in him than this glib vehicle displays.
"Happy Hour," presented by and at the Groundling Theatre, 7307 Melrose Ave., W. Hollywood. Apr. 19-May 17. (213) 934-9700.
VIVIEN LEIGH--
THE LAST PRESS CONFERENCE
at the Tiffany Theatre
Reviewed by Wenzel Jones
Marcy Lafferty's one-person show is more of a morality tale, really, than a character study, using the arc of Vivien Leigh's eventful if not terribly long life to make her points. Taught in childhood that good manners are doing what others want, not what you want, young Vivien ignored this advice to achieve her dreams with startling alacrity: an international movie star in her mid-20s, lover of Laurence Olivier (they were both married to others at the time), on to a life as the reigning royalty of British theatre. By 1960, when this play is set, she is teetering on the brink of losing it all. The Oliviers are divorcing, her health is none too good; eventually her looks and sanity would leave her, as well. Thus do the gods demand retribution for pride and willfulness.
Or at least I hope that's what this was about, because as a celebrity impersonation piece, the show is lacking. Lafferty--lead, playwright, overall auteur--is a formidable stage presence, but she's no Miss Leigh. Portraying one of the few actresses to whom the term "kittenish" could be ascribed without irony, Lafferty lacks both the delicate facial characteristics and the winsome, cultured voice. Her impression of Marlon Brando is actually much better than her Vivien, which has a tendency to settle into the throaty Bankhead range.
The script is filled with anecdotes and theatrical chestnuts (I'm sure "Dying is easy " was old even then), but there's never a notion of what Leigh was like as an offstage person. Sure, it's fun to hear what sounds like scoop on her films, her loves, and her incipient madness, but as a whole it comes off as Lafferty getting a kick out of pretending to be Leigh but not much caring whether we're along for the ride or not.
"Vivien Leigh--The Last Press Conference," presented by and at the Tiffany Theatre, 8532 Sunset Blvd., W. Hollywood. Apr. 6-May 18. (213) 289-2999.
UNEXPECTED TENDERNESS
at the Marilyn Monroe Theatre
Reviewed by Les Spindle
The familiar Franklin D. Roosevelt quote "We have nothing to fear but fear itself" is repeated throughout Unexpected Tenderness, Israel Horovitz's harrowing drama about domestic violence. Ironically, the beleaguered Massachusetts-based Jewish family depicted in the play has a great deal to fear, and its most formidable test of courage is the dilemma of whether or not to abandon the loose-cannon family patriarch. Director Hope Alexander-Willis and a mostly superb cast find moments of heartrending drama and slice-of-life resonance in Horovitz's work, but the play ultimately proves more simplistic than one would hope, traveling familiar territory with few fresh insights.
In its most eloquent moments, the play resembles Eugene O'Neill's powerful autobiographical portraits of familial strife, which poetically blended nervous humor with devastating despair. Don Eitner's meticulously detailed set, depicting a working-class home in 1950s New England, is suitably realistic, with a faint tinge of stylization to suit the work's memory play motif, further supported by Carlos Colunga's brilliantly atmospheric lighting effects.
For the most part, the cast is empathetic and credible. As the Jekyll/Hyde father, Barry Thompson is compelling, and avoids the pitfall of portraying this disturbed man as an emotionless monster. Ben Savage is effective as his son Roddy, who grows to understand that he may be doomed to inherit his father's inner demons; though the character is basically one-dimensional, Savage is an appealing actor who makes us care about his plight. As the daughter Sylvie, Sarah Sankowich is not as successful in surmounting the limitations of her underwritten role. The Old World grandparents are colorfully enacted by Erica Yohn and Stefan Gierasch, the only cast members fully successful at dialects.
As the abused wife Molly, Marya Kazakova is sometimes unintelligible, as her native Russian dialect clashes with what appears to be fleeting attempts at New England intonations. Otherwise her character is poignantly delineated. Tom Woodward as the father's smarmy co-worker gives a chilling performance of dangerous volatility.
There is clearly a wealth of dramatic lessons to be learned from the ongoing problem of family violence. But to better comprehend and deal with the malady, we need more than the grandmother's pat declaration, "The men in this family are crazy." This production skillfully depicts the horrors and heartbreak of domestic violence, but after laying its cards on the table at the outset, it does little to probe deeper into this vital social issue.
"Unexpected Tenderness," presented by the Lee Strasberg Creative Center and the Fountain Theatre at the Marilyn Monroe Theatre, 7936 Santa Monica Blvd., W. Hollywood. May 1-31. (213) 650-7777.
I AM A CAMERA
at the Flight Theater
Reviewed by Madeleine Shaner
John Van Druten's I Am a Camera ventures into Weimar Berlin in the 1930s, when hedonism was in full flower. The fringe characters cavorting aimlessly in the murky decadence of booze, drugs, and casual sex, against the backdrop of Hitler's rise to power, were the subjects of the snapshots that Christopher Isherwood, a young British writer, laid out in his Berlin Diaries, which became the basis for Van Druten's play (and the subsequent incarnations of Cabaret).
At the center of the piece is Sally Bowles, a young English girl of good family, running wild in a free-thinking society where almost anything was acceptable--if you were the right color, race, or sexual persuasion. A sometime cabaret singer, attractive, rebellious, and uninhibited, Bowles bestowed her favors carelessly on anyone who could afford them. As Sally in this new production, Jenn Robbins makes a spirited attempt at capturing the flavor of the times and the lady who was not lady, but relies more on the costume and the green fingernails than on any internal exposition to paint a credible portrait. She has a natural stage appeal which compensates somewhat for the lack of depth in her performance, but she fails vocally, as does most of the rest of the cast, with a badly drifting accent that runs in and out of lower- and upper-class and regional English, sending some of the wrong signals about her character.
Matthew C. Brannan makes a nicely contemplative Isherwood, somewhat befuddled by the wildness around him but eager to find a place for himself other than as observer and mentor to the disparate characters who push their way into his life and his journals. Carol Poretz is excellent as Fraulein Schneider, the couple's landlady, a lively and likable old character with the spark still in place, but who nevertheless represents those millions who accepted Der F†hrer's dictums as gospel. Rena Heinrich as Natalia Landauer and Maximilian A. Mastrangelo as Fritz Wendel, the star-crossed Jewish lovers, are adequate in roles that seem perfunctory under Robbins and Darren Elms' often misguided co-direction.
John E. Farrell as Clive, an overblown lover and benefactor of Sally's who looks, for about 10 minutes, as if he might be her savior, gives a terrible performance, and Audrey Wishnick Greenberg as Sally's proper mother is badly off-key, with a weird mix of accents that run the gamut from Irish to Welsh to Cockney and Queen's, and her non-existent timing slows the action to a screaming halt when it most needs smart pacing.
On the plus side, Elms has chose some great entr'acte cabaret music, and Carla Rugg's set is especially attractive. But the sum of the whole is less that its parts; the play never quite comes together, and it's further hampered by incessant loud and distracting sound from the space next door.
"I Am a Camera," presented by the Playgroup at the Flight Theater at The Complex, 6476 Santa Monica Blvd., Hollywood. May 1-June 6. (310) 296-0369.
MRS. CALIFORNIA
at Long Beach Playhouse
Reviewed by Kristina Mannion
Unlike her modern-day counterpart, the typical milieu of the 1950s woman was the happy home. In that era, juggling husband, kids, and household chores was more common than juggling career and family--and the ideal woman was a gal who cheerfully fulfilled her role as wife, mother, and homemaker before seeing to her own needs.
Attempting to capitalize on the more humorous aspects of this erstwhile flawed concept of the perfect female, Doris Baizley's Mrs. California--a spoof that centers on a competitive '50s homemaker contest--offers a sitcom-style view of all the stereotypes we grew up with, borrowing from the likes of everyone from sunny June Cleaver to wacky Lucy Ricardo. Unfortunately, Baizley's script provides little of either the comforting sentimentality of Leave It to Beaver or the zaniness of I Love Lucy. More akin to the many stale sitcoms that populate today's TV programming, this satire is only able to summon a handful of mild chuckles, leaving us with a wavering smile of anticipation that is never fully satisfied. Laboring under this rather lifeless material, as well as the plodding direction of Michael Jung, this Long Beach Playhouse production eventually falls flat despite the efforts of an earnest cast and a few inspired comic moments.
The setting is a Los Angeles hotel in April 1955, where four anxious finalists are vying for the coveted title of Mrs. California, an honor reserved for the consummate homemaker. Who can properly set the table, sew an apron, cook the tastiest meals, and iron a man's white shirt in record time? And who can do all these things while wearing an evening gown and a perpetual smile? These are the criteria in Baizley's fictional contest, where poise and family pride mean everything--and being blonde, buxom, and phony doesn't hurt either.
That's the sad truth realized by Dot (Trace Turville), the Mrs. Los Angeles finalist who finds that being crowned the best homemaker isn't the worthy goal she thought it was. Subject to the dictates of her sponsor (Jonathan Williams), the underhanded tactics of her primary opponent, Mrs. San Bernardino (Stacie Wilson), and the true feelings of her best friend Babs (Deanna Hixson), Dot ultimately must decide how to define her own identity.
It's along this journey to self-discovery that Baizley strives to conjure some elements of slapstick humor. Those elements are few and far between, however. The only true amusement develops when Mrs. Modesto is onstage. Holly Jeanne turns in a hilarious performance as the frumpy but spunky finalist who stumbles and bumbles her way through the entire contest with an engagingly goofy grin on her face.
Unfortunately, too much sappy melodrama and unanimated dialogue mire down Baizley's other characters, to the extent that this spoof delivers no real message--comic, dramatic, or otherwise. Jung's almost uncomfortably slow pacing only adds to the dissatisfying mix. Even the capable cast, whose talents merit better material, seem to realize the flavorless quality of Baizley's work.
"Mrs. California," produced by and at the Long Beach Playhouse Studio Theatre, 5021 East Anaheim Street, Long Beach. Apr. 24-May 30. (562) 494-1616.
THE REAL THING
at the Marin Theatre Company
Reviewed by Matthew Surrence
Hey, Marin: Wake up! Palo Alto's kicking your ass!
There's a big disparity in the quality of Equity theatre being performed in those two wealthy suburbs of San Francisco. To the south, Palo Alto, home of Stanford, is host to TheatreWorks, a fine regional company that also presents larger shows in Silicon Valley's gorgeous Mountain View Center for the Performing Arts. To the north, tony Marin County, home of Lucasfilm and Skywalker Ranch, plays host to Marin Theatre Company, an Equity theatre in downtown Mill Valley whose productions rarely rise to a level higher than a cut above community theatre.
Why should one wealthy enclave consistently produce solid--and sometimes superb--productions, while the other one usually stumbles? Maybe some of the disparity could be attributed to the presence of a great university in Palo Alto and the absence of one in Marin. After all, Berkeley, America's most notorious college town, is less affluent than Marin, yet it manages to support the Tony-winning Berkeley Repertory Theatre.
Another reason might be the disparity in the directing talent of the two theatres' artistic directors. TheatreWorks' Robert Kelley is a creative, intelligent director skilled at conceptualization, blocking, and helping actors shape performances. Those qualities have not been evident in any production I've seen staged by MTC's Lee Sankowich, including his current revival of Tom Stoppard's The Real Thing.
Confession: Stoppard's exquisite, moving comedy about an arrogant, brilliant, charming, slightly reactionary playwright whose works are cold yet dazzling intellectual conceits is the only one of the several Stoppard works I've seen that I like. Actually, I more than like it; I love it. I think its examination of the ways playwright Henry (Dan Hiatt) both inflicts and suffers wounds in love and language is funny, sad, and, that rarest of qualities, profound.
The play needs a director with a delicate touch who can bring out the nuances of the relationships among the characters in blocking, pace, and variety. But Sankowich's crude production runs roughshod not just over Stoppard but over his actors as well, all of whom suggest they could have done well with their roles under other circumstances.
Hiatt's Henry is mush. Cynthia Bassham is simply pinched as Henry's first wife Charlotte, who never stops fancying him even after he has left her for Rebecca Dines' Annie, an ardent actress and opportunistic activist. Dines, an Australian, pushes everything, including her British accent, though she calms a bit in a scene with an amorous young actor (given energy but not much else by Derek Cecil). As the cuckolded actor Max, Simon Vance is not always intelligible. As Henry and Charlotte's Goth daughter Debbie, Lizzie Robinson suggests the outline of a young woman who can give some of his own back to her adored father.
Production design is often a problem at MTC, but Andrea Bechert's shabby thrift shop set is inexcusable. Dull bookcases, a tacky sofa, and a cheap wooden coffee table for a supposedly successful playwright? During interminable set changes, the set doesn't really change: Even when we're in a different setting, it's all still the same--just slightly rearranged.
Marin is fast becoming the home of many Hollywood expatriates--not just George Lucas but recently also Barry Levinson, Michael Tucker and Jill Eikenberry, and Sean and Robin Wright Penn. Sankowich's Real Thing is hardly worthy of a county now home to one of our greatest living actors. Surely Sean Penn--not to mention the rest of us--deserves better local theatre than this.
"The Real Thing," presented by and at the Marin Theatre Company, 397 Miller Ave., Mill Valley. Apr. 29-May 24. (415) 388-5208