Mike Millan in  Buyer & Cellar (Photo by Matthew Brian Denman)
Mike Millan in Buyer & Cellar (Photo by Matthew Brian Denman)

Buyer & Cellar

Reviewed by Martίn Hernández

Celebration Theatre

Through April 17

RECOMMENDED

The title of Jonathan Tolins’s outlandish one-person comedy, taking on celebrity worship and self-discovery, not only telegraphs the play’s setting but could also be taken as a metaphor for the market exchange inherent in capitalism. Blurring the line between who is buying and who is selling, the main characters’ initially sociable relationship eventually turns alienating, with a multi-millionaire movie star and a struggling working-class actor both treated as commodities who can get chewed up, spit out and replaced with nary a bump in their respective assembly lines.

Alex More (Mike Millan), recently fired from Disneyland for threatening an obnoxious child with bodily harm by churro, gets a lead on a new and odd position – salesclerk at a “shopping mall” in the basement of an opulent Malibu estate. At first reluctant, with a farther drive than the Magic Kingdom and being on call for forty hours in case his one mystery customer shows up. But when the officious interviewer answers Alex’s query and reveals that “the lady of the house” is named Barbra, all hesitancy dissipates. Who else is named Barbra?

His first days are monotonous: dusting the tchotchkes in the “gift shop,” crafting names and backstories for the countless dolls in the “doll shop,” enduring the drone of popcorn and frozen yogurt machines.  But when his boss does show up, it is THAT Barbra, who proceeds to haggle over the “price” of a doll.  Her own doll! But Alex is up for the charade and holds firm since its invented provenance involves World War II and an escape from the Nazis – thank goodness for his stint at The Groundlings. He earns her respect and eventually they form a kinship of sorts, with Alex increasingly feeling he and Streisand are becoming true friends since Alex wants nothing more than that – and maybe seeing the rest of the house or at least her son Jason’s room.

Alex’s boyfriend Barry, however, feels Alex is being exploited, financially and emotionally. A struggling screenwriter, Barry knows Hollywood and has no sympathy for the super-rich, especially Streisand, who has amassed enough of a fortune to assuage any trauma from childhood rejection for her looks and to pay for decades of public persona cultivation. Alex won’t have it, driving a deeper wedge in their relationship while the one with Streisand appears to be blossoming. But can a friendship truly blossom when subconsciously they both know they are expendable goods, he to the whims of a privileged mega-star, who grew up poor but now feels her artistic vision supersedes paying her film crews overtime, and she to whims of a corporate media market always on the lookout for a “next” Barbra? 

“This is not real,” Millan declares at the outset, explaining that the fiction was inspired by Streisand’s 2010 coffee-table book “My Passion for Design,” recounting the designing of her elaborate home, and the 18th century faux “shopping mall” she really did install in her basement. Millan has a keen comic timing that is well attuned to Tolin’s brusque and sometimes caustic banter as he alternates between characters. His high energy, though, causes some line stumbles but he acquits himself nicely.  

Director Katie Lindsey takes advantage of Millan’s frenetic persona, having him roam the stage and kibbitzing with the audience creating an easy rapport. The design team – sets by Stephen Gifford, lighting by R.S. Buck, sound by Cricket s. Myers and photo projection by David Murakami – create a realistic (albeit invented) showcase from Streisand’s tome.

By the finale, it would be nice if the story was true due to its heartfelt and liberating denouement. But then Alex would get his ass sued since he did sign an NDA and we know how litigious Ms. Streisand can get. It’s not called “The Streisand Effect” for nothing.

Celebration Theatre @ The Broadwater Stage, 6320 Santa Monica Blvd., Hollywood; Fri.-Sat. & Mon., 8 p.m.; Sun., 3 pm.; thru April 17. www.celebrationtheatre.org/tickets