Brothers Play

Reviewed by Martίn Hernández
Break With Traditions Productions
Through February 5

RECOMMENDED

It is Christmas in Chicago, and for Irish American brothers Jude (Jeffrey Nordling), Francis (Rob Nagle), and Thomas (Jamie Wollrab) that means some unseemly celebrations, despite their saintly names. Jude, the oldest, is committed to visiting the local gambling boats; middle child Francis is savoring the wares at his favorite strip club; and Thomas, the youngest, tries to burn down their parish church. Their actions speak louder than words — words they have suppressed for decades concerning the childhood trauma that has left them psychologically scarred well into their disjointed adulthood. Refusing to acknowledge the matter and directing their rage at each other instead of the true source has worked so far, but when Thomas tries to finally confront them with their horrific past, his siblings revolt in their standard delusional fashion.

Playwright Matthew Doherty’s dramedy balances the intense subject matter with ample dark humor, making the unsettling tale easier to bear under James Eckhouse’s steady direction. The siblings constantly berate each other and still play childish pranks on each other, evidence of how earlier events have left them emotionally immature and incapable of intimacy. It also makes for silly slapstick moments and bizarre comic antics, such as the older (and larger) brothers playing “tug of war” with the diminutive Thomas as the rope, or Jude, — an unhinged U.S. Marine vet — scolding his mother’s nativity set figurines for leaving a missing wise man behind. And wait till you see Francis try to wrap a Christmas gift. Each brother also delivers impassioned confessional monologues revealing their inner pain, which in real life they mask with sex, substances, and sports. How many other men can relate?

The role of the Catholic Church is deeply ingrained in this fraternal trinity and Doherty’s piece is rife with Christian symbolism. At one point a somnambulant Thomas strolls the stage in a bathrobe looking like a monkish Yoda, and Francis, like his namesake from Assisi, seeks to save what he believes is an innocent from perceived harm. Jude, despite his gruffness, has a love for his brothers that has served as a demented safeguard from their collective memory — after all, Saint Jude is the patron of hopeless causes. Unseen but omnipresent are the trio’s parents, whose own drunken antics and fervor in their faith are never far from the brothers’ minds since they all seem to still live in the same house and with the same secret shame.

Justin Huen’s set and lighting design combine to create beatific motifs when the brothers, lit from above by a single pin spot, deliver their haunting speeches, and the colored lights on a foreboding upstage Christmas tree flash intermittently at integral points. Veronica Mullins Bower’s sound and video design, with projected images of stained-glass windows, shadows of gyrating strippers, and even a famous superhero’s logo, bolster the ambience. Nordling, Nagle, and Wollrab make for a profane yet poignant set of brothers in Doherty’s absurdist storyline, with shadows of Samuels — Beckett and Shepard — tinging the script. Despite minor opening night jitters, the three have a chemistry that has gelled well under Eckhouse’s fluid hands.

“I try to keep my life pretty empty,” intones one of the brothers at one point, a sad but effective strategy that they all seem to have embraced. It may well have kept them “safe” for years, but was it worth the cost?

Legacy L.A., 1350 San Pablo Street, Los Angeles; Thurs.-Sat., 8 pm.; Sun., 3 pm; through Feb. 5. www.brothersplay23.com. (Running time 80 min. with no intermission.)

Twelve O’Clock Tales with Ava Gardner

Reviewed by Taylor Kass
The Whitefire Theatre
Through March 5

 RECOMMENDED

“You’re too young to know Ava Gardner,” said the audience member sitting next to me as I took my seat. He was right; this reviewer is admittedly Gen Z. But when I asked him to share his favorite film of hers, he couldn’t name one. All he could remember about Ava Gardner was that he was in love with her. And that’s just the thing about Ava, a screen icon whose striking beauty and salacious personal life  — three husbands including Mickey Rooney and Frank Sinatra, plus a slew of rich and famous lovers — often eclipsed her genuine acting talent. Playwright Alessandra Assaf has crafted and stars in a one-woman show that peels back the curtain on this revered yet misunderstood figure. In its world premiere production co-written by Michael Lorre and directed by Michael A. Shepperd, Twelve O’Clock Tales with Ava Gardner finds the humanity in a woman described as “The World’s Most Beautiful Animal.”

Twelve O’Clock Tales catches Ava at an intimate moment. Thirty years into her career, she’s taking a break in her dressing room on the set of Earthquake as special effect techs struggle to set up a stunt. Ava starts sipping a martini (or two) as she chats to her unseen assistant Reenie and takes the opportunity to tell a few tales to a tape recorder that she plans to use to write her memoir. She takes us through the whirlwind of the 1940s and 50s, from growing up as the daughter of sharecroppers, to being discovered via a photograph and whisked away to Hollywood, to landing her first leading roles and gaining mainstream acclaim. But it’s Ava’s romantic relationships that shape the narrative of Twelve O’Clock Tales. Ava’s greatest desire is to love and be loved, but the men who pursue her for her beauty and fame despise her for it. A bit like the public who condemn her for her sexuality as they lust after every detail of her affairs.

As Ava, Assaf is a sharply focused storyteller and unflappably glamorous. Even when recounting humiliating jabs from Ava’s first husband Mickey Rooney or horrific abuse at the hands of her former lover George C. Scott, she never drops her carefully curated aura of grace. Assaf luxuriates in every gesture, every word dripping with a dialect somewhere in between a Southern drawl and a mid-Atlantic accent. Twelve O’Clock Tales never quite gives us a truly raw Ava, but maybe that’s the point. Somewhere along the line, Ava from small-town Grabtown, North Carolina was thoroughly consumed by the idea of Ava Gardner, an image larger than life and even more enduring.

The Whitefire Theatre, 13500 Ventura Blvd., Sherman Oaks; Sun., 2 pm; through March 5. https://whitefiretheatre.com or 818-687-8559. Running time: 80 minutes with no intermission.

Ercole Su’l Termodonte

Reviewed by V Cate
Pacific Opera Project
Thru January 21st 

RECOMMENDED

Pacific Opera Project (POP) returns with a scintillating new show, a rarity that is simultaneously a centuries-old work yet a United States premiere. Ercole su’l Termodonte (Hercules in Termodon) is an Italian opera in three acts composed by the illustrious Antonio Vivaldi. Although the score had been lost, the music was discovered across several archives and reconstructed by Alessandro Ciccolini. At the time of its original mounting in the 1700s, a papal edict was in effect which prevented women from appearing onstage in Rome, so men (many of whom were castrati) performed all of the roles.  

Whether because of Mercury Retrograde or LA’s strange persistent rain or perhaps someone having angered the gods, this particular reviewed performance had a lot working against it. Two members of the cast were out with Covid. The projected translations of the Italian lyrics sometimes skipped or ceased for periods. And there were troubles with the set — at a certain point, a heavy set piece fell dramatically close to an orchestra member’s head (who was okay, even buoyant, and after a five-minute hold to re-set, the show continued).

Even if we have the engrained response, “That’s showbiz, baby!,” maybe it’s also time to wonder at what point should a show be postponed? Not having translations for an Italian opera is one thing. Fluke occurrences on stage of all sorts do happen (though we are lucky we did not witness a much more dramatic conclusion of a different kind). But the decision to perform a show without two major characters (no understudies here —  a tricky choice during a pandemic) necessitated a gutting of the show: snippets sung from offstage, one-sided love scenes, pieces of song and plot entirely ripped out. While the general plot of the show was made available through digital program, no note or mention of the specifics of these adjustments was ever made to the audience. So what viewers experienced was not necessarily Vivaldi’s opera, nor even POP’s vision of it – it was a brazen embrace of the classic mantra, “The show must go on!”

For the reasons above, it is impossible to truly review the show – either as written or as rehearsed. But here is what can be said.

First, it is no small matter that American audiences are able to hear, live, “new” music by Vivaldi for the first time, ever. (If you don’t know any of the numerous compositions of the prolific Vivaldi off the top of your head, you’ll likely have at least some familiarity with The Four Seasons (1723), which was composed the same year Ercole Su’l Termodonte premiered. Vivaldi’s music is piercingly bright, luscious as a garden, and gives us space to meditate throughout any given work, which is stunning, complex, and easy to embrace. Antonio Salvi, who wrote the libretto, created utter poetry out of straight-forward feelings the characters experience within a mytho-archetypal space. The result is a total Baroque lavishness of sound.

As for this production itself, Music Director/Conductor Kyle Naig and the uncredited orchestra members do marvelous work bringing the gift of Vivaldi’s music to life. Truly impressive work.

Whether because of the compounding effects of this production’s ill-fated elements, or for some other reason, the overall execution of the piece was lacking, and so many facets of the show were only fine.

The transformation of the Highland Park Ebell Club into a Baroque opera house (David Handler is credited with set construction) is more of a sweet thought than a well-executed experiment in “immersive” opera, as the concept is billed. Rough wood, painted sterile white, approximate box seating without the perspective height or opulence that should accompany. To the credit of the cohesion that existed, the orchestra members, concessions workers, and Director of Community Engagement were bedecked in 1700s attire and wigs, and the programs were wrapped up as scrolls.

The piece itself tells the story of the Ninth Labor of Hercules. Essentially, Hercules, demigod son of Zeus, has spent the last several years atoning for his magical madness-induced murder of his wife and children. He is given a total of 12 Labors, impossible tasks. This particular Labor involves retrieving the sword of the Queen of the Amazons — a tribe of warrior women who devote themselves to battle, cultivating the feminine, and generally being totally fearsome and badass.

At the show’s open, a small hunting party of Amazons revels in the beauty of the forest. The script essentially draws masculine and feminine as opposing forces. Here, we establish that the feminine, regardless of all else, is inherently connected to the divinity of nature. When we meet Ercole (Hercules, played by Logan Webber) and his band of warriors, we learn his and their focus — their masculinity —  is rooted in glory and conquest.

These themes are outdated, and sometimes problematic for a modern audience (there is some implication of normalized rape and instances of coercion). We are seeing a myth through the lens of 1700s Italy, but which is not directed with the understanding of a modern audience. Meanwhile, the story’s inherent eroticism goes untouched.

In terms of the performances — sound aside — strong direction seemed to have been missing. Opera obviously necessitates technical realities of the face and body to ensure the proper sound and stamina. But many of the ensemble seemed shy within the musical pauses, falling out of their characters’ focus. (Janet Todd as Ippolita was the greatest exception to this, firmly seated in her power throughout.) The strategic lyrical pauses written into the words were populated with choreographed mugging and incessant stroking of weaponry, to the point of absurdity. Vocally, the ensemble was fair; overall the performances were beautiful, but some performers consistently missed the technical mark. Countertenor Michael Skarke stood out with a miraculous voice.

There were some nice notions from director Josh Shaw in the form of clever set pieces. But these were hardly utilized to great success, and created awkward transitions that could have either been hidden by the gorgeous red curtain or else bypassed entirely, despite any feeling of need to fill up the space in Vivaldi’s breaks.

The lighting (designer uncredited) also did the production a disservice, providing bright, bland lighting that did not seem to support the curated atmosphere, tell a story, or serve to hide the inevitable limitations of a set made on a budget.

In the end, both hard-headed Ercole and determined Antiope (Meagan Martin) relinquish their need for absolute victory in the face of love. Antiope still relinquishes her weapons, and the Labor is able to be completed without bloodshed. But a double-marriage enacted without the players provided a hollow climax. Still, the music is enough to see the show regardless, and the efforts of the cast and crew were indeed Herculean.

Pacific Opera Project (POP) at The Highland Park Ebell Club, 131 S. Avenue 57, Los Angeles 90042; Fri., 8 pm / Sat., 2 & 7 pm; pacificoperaproject.com; Running time: 2 hours 15 minutes with one intermission.

Ain’t Too Proud – The Life and Times of The Temptations

Reviewed by Julia Stier

Center Theatre Group

Through January 1

RECOMMENDED

Ain’t Too Proud – The Life and Times of The Temptations is back at The Ahmanson as part of a national tour after its initial run in 2018. Even if you’re not a diehard fan of the titular group, the tight harmonies and thrilling dance moves make the two-and-a-half hour runtime fly by.

A jukebox musical of Motown hits, with a book by Dominique Morisseau and directed by Des McAnuff, Ain’t Too Proud tells the story of the inception of the legendary Motown group, The Temptations. Known for their classics, such as “My Girl,” “Just My Imagination (Running Away With Me)” and “Papa Was a Rollin’ Stone” – all of which were included on the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame’s list of the 500 Songs that Shaped Rock and Roll – The Temptations went through a journey rife with growing pains, personality clashes, and personal sacrifices to become the legendary group that they are today.

I didn’t know much about The Temptations going into this, but quickly found that it didn’t matter.  You don’t have to be a fan in order to appreciate the musicality and showmanship of these performers.

The story focuses on the founding members of the group – Otis Williams (Marcus Paul James), Paul Williams (James T. Lane), Melvin Franklin (Harrell Holmes Jr.), Eddie Kendricks (Jalen Harris), and David Ruffin (Elijah Ahmad Lewis).

Lewis and Harris as David Ruffin and Eddie Kendricks, respectively, are ones to watch. As the group’s showman and crooner, the two – both the actors and the characters they portray – bring a thrilling star quality to the group.

Holmes Jr., as Melvin Franklin, rounds out the group with his smooth, deep-bass voice, and Lane, as Paul Williams, infuses the men with a playful energy.

Marcus Paul James carries the show as Otis Williams, the founder of The Temptations – and the last living member of the original quintet. A surprise curtain speech from Otis himself brought an already exuberant audience to a whole new level of excitement.

I typically enjoy musicals, but this one really blew me away. With modern musicals focusing more on theme and story rather than spectacle, the triple-threat actor is becoming more and more of an outlier. But not in this show. I left the theatre with a deep respect for each of the performers, and in awe of their performances and skill.

Ahmanson Theatre, 135 N. Grand Avenue, Dwntn.; Tues.-Fri., 8 pm., Sat., 2 & 8pm, Sun., 1pm and 6:30pm; Sat., Dec. 31 2 & 7pm; No evening perfs on Christmas Eve and no perfs on Christmas; through Jan. 1. CenterTheatreGroup.org; (Running time two hours  and thirty-five minutes, with a fifteen-minute intermission.) https://ctgla.org

Christmastime Origins

Reviewed by Martίn Hernández

Group Repertory Theatre

Through January 15

RECOMMENDED

Welcome to the studios of K-GRT 73, North Hollywood’s home of radio theatre, otherwise known as the upstairs space of the Group Repertory Theatre. Artistic Director Doug Haverty has adapted four works from veteran Los Angeles theater journalist and playwright Julio Martinez’s The Eight Plays of Christmas: A Series of Radio Dramas. While this reviewer falls into the “bah, humbug” camp when it comes to Christmas, the nostalgic production under Kathleen Delaney’s sturdy direction presents some touching backstories of classic holiday songs and stories. We are also treated to a mixed bag of other holiday ditties, which the large and lively ensemble delivers with gusto. 

In “One Horse Open Sl­­­eigh,” it’s July 1857 and New York theatre producer George Kimebaly (Brad Kahn) has traveled to Savannah, Georgia to meet the Boston-born songwriter James Pierpont (Mark Stancato), a previous collaborator. George is searching for new tunes for his latest minstrel show – yes, minstrel show – and is accompanied by Fanny Bright (Carolyn English), an old acquaintance of James. While sparking some jealousy from Pierpont’s fiancée Eliza (Kay Vermeil), the flamboyant Fanny also sparks James’ creativity, recounting a humorous tale of a snowy Boston sleigh ride with James that ended with a tumble in the snow. Thus James composes “The One Horse Open Sleigh,” which was published in 1857 but retitled as “Jingle Bells” in 1859. Though not a hit under either title in those days, later arrangements helped its popularity, as evidenced in a boisterous rendition by the cast—thankfully not in blackface.  

One anomaly about songs about Christmas, the most Christian of all holidays, is that many standards were written by Jewish songwriters. This is the story behind “Christmas in Tinseltown.” In early 1941, Paramount Studios greenlit the musical Holiday Inn with Fred Astaire and Bing Crosby. Irving Berlin (Kahn) is set to write the songs but is stuck on the title and lyrics for the closing number, much to dismay of the film’s director Mark – née Goldstein — Sandrich (Stancato.) Thanks to inspiration from Sandrich’s secretary Millie (Vermeil), Berlin finishes the song. With Pearl Harbor bombed before the movie wraps, however, Berlin and Sandrich are asked to release the song prior to the film’s 1942 release to help calm a panic-stricken nation. They acquiesce and “White Christmas” did the trick, becoming a huge hit for Crosby. It went on to win the Oscar for Best Song in 1943, became one of the most cherished Christmas tunes of all time, and is considered the biggest selling single of all time. Too bad for Berlin there wasn’t much call for Hanukah songs back in the day, but he did okay.

Act Two delivers “All Is Calm, All Is Bright,” in which our narrator (Lareen Faye) relates that in 1818, mice damaged the organ in St. Nicholas church in Oberndorf, Austria, meaning there would be no music for Christmas midnight mass. While he desperately tries to repair it, organist Franz Gruber (Kahn) is forced to stop because his wife Maria (Melissa Strauss) demands he eat dinner with his family. With time running out, Father Joseph Mohr (Shawn Cahill), the new parish priest, offers one of his poems for lyrics, as well as his guitar skills, and he and Gruber set to work on the melody. Soon, “Stille Nacht” is sung in barely passable German by the Grubers’ family friend Peter (Stancato) but happily the rest of the cast deliver a heartfelt “Silent Night” in English.  

“Keeping Christmas Well” has Faye returning as the narrator, detailing the sad tale of how 12-year-old Charles Dickens (an amiable Renaud Warwick) was forced to work off part of his father’s debt in 1824. The year of arduous toil left an indelible mark on Dickens as did his cruel employer Mr. Warren (Cahill).  The adult Dickens (Stancato) has found great success as a writer but with his wife Catherine (Strauss) and ten children to feed, he finagles a publishing contract with a cut of the profits on his next book instead of a flat fee. Published in 1843, “A Christmas Carol” was a financial boon for Dickens. Adapted as a play in 1844 by actor and playwright Edward Stirling (Cahill), it has had countless adaptations ever since, much to the dismay of a few lowly and cynical theater critics. But sometimes you never know. 

Vermeil’s velvet voiced rendering of Berlin’s classic is a highlight, as is the witty opening number by Faye, Ellen Burr, and Cynthia Bryant. Strauss’ vocals as singer Martha Mears, once considered the busiest dubber in Hollywood, on Berlin’s “Be Careful It’s My Heart” is regrettably overwhelmed by the volume of Paul Cady’s keyboards. English accents are to be expected with the Dickens episode but German accents in the “Silent Night” are not necessary – nor authentic. While the format leaves little in the way of characterization, the actors acquit themselves well. This is encapsulated in the song battle finale, pitting “Deck the Halls” with “Jingle Bells,” a testament to the performers’ commitment as they relish in the joy such songs can bring, even to the Scrooge-ist of us. And to all, a good show.

Upstairs at the Lonny Chapman Theatre, 10900 Burbank Blvd., North Hollywood; Sat., 4 p.m.; Sun., & p.m. After show talk back with author Julio Martinez 12/25. (The upstairs is not accessible for those with handicaps.) https://thegrouprep.com/ (818) 763-5990. Running time one hour and forty minutes, with a ten-minute intermission. Some roles multi-cast.

Die Heart

Reviewed by Terry Morgan

Troubadour Theater Company

Through December 18

RECOMMENDED

 There has been much discussion in recent years on social media concerning whether or not the 1998 film Die Hard qualifies as “a Christmas movie.” On the surface, the Bruce Willis actioner may not seem to be a good candidate for “holiday classic,” what with its brutal murders, hangings and cocaine abuse. Indeed, the “classics” are rather a motley bunch, including mutant reindeer, a near suicide off a bridge, a child’s malnourished Christmas tree and the vanishingly unlikely spectacle of a rich miser suddenly becoming empathetic. Here to answer this controversial question with a definitive yes, the Troubadour Theater Company’s Die Heart (Die Hard featuring the music of the band, Heart) is a hilarious adaptation of its source material that will make the holidays much brighter.

New York cop McClane (Matt Walker) has been separated from his wife Holly (Chelle Denton) for six months due to her taking a new job in Los Angeles. It’s Christmas Eve, and he’s flown out to meet her at her company office party in the big skyscraper in Nakatomi Plaza. Unfortunately, a gang of thieves pretending to be terrorists shortly take over the building, led by their sardonic mastermind, Hans (Rick Batalla). Using the empty spaces and ventilation ducts of the largely empty structure, McClane picks off the robbers one by one as Hans gets closer and closer to opening the vault and escaping with millions.

Walker is game and funny as McClane, resplendent in his muscle costume, tank top and giant bare feet ensemble, although he’s a bit more of the straight man amongst the rest of the broadly comedic cast this time. Denton has less to do in the plot as Holly, but she belts out the Heart songs as the vocal MVP of the show. Troubie veterans Beth Kennedy and Cloie Taylor are reliably great as various jerky authority figures and friendly cop Al, respectively, and a certain wintery character makes a welcome cameo. Philip McNiven does inspired work as hired thug Karl, constantly doing turns and leg extensions as the bulge in the crotch of his ballet tights expands alarmingly as the show progresses. Finally, Batalla is excellent as Hans, delivering a superb Alan Rickman impression and delightfully selling the parody of Heart’s “Barracuda” as “Hans Grubah!”

 Walker has proved himself to be a clever director many times over the years, and he demonstrates it afresh in this production. His staging uses every nook and cranny of the space (including many Nerf machine gun battles sending flurries of projectiles flying across the stage), his pacing is swift but still has time for ambitious yet charmingly silly set pieces such as a fight that circles the entire theater. The music selection is likely the weakest point of this particular holiday special – Heart perhaps might not have as many recognizable hits for the audience – but it doesn’t matter as the Troubies can seemingly adapt anything into their shows.

If you’re the kind of person that wants to be encouraged to yell out, “Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker,” with the rest of an audience, this may be the seasonal entertainment for you.

Colony Theatre, 555 N. Third St., Burbank; Thurs.-Fri.  8 pm; Sat. 4 & 8 pm; Sun. 5 & 7 pm; through December 18. https://www.troubie.com. Running time: two hours with one intermission.

Little Theatre

Reviewed by Martίn Hernández

Rogue Machine

Through January 8

RECOMMENDED

In the 1990s, playwright Justin Tanner was the wunderkind of small venue L.A. theatre. Tanner churned out hit after hit, like Pot Mom, Zombie Attack, and Teen Girl, for the now defunct Cast Theatre, where he was resident playwright. The Cast was also where artistic director Diana Gibson reigned supreme, raking in the bucks from Tanner’s prolific output while raking him over the coals over, in her esteemed opinion, his paltry writing skills.

Tales about their love/hate bond are the stuff of local legend, and Tanner was quoted in her 2014 L.A. Times obituary as saying, “I’ve never been as brutal, and never been treated as brutally.” Now, Tanner depicts their joint brutality in this combination self-confession and begrudging swan song to his mentor, delivered with his trademark wit and pathos. While it is mostly played for laughs – and there are plenty – it serves as a disturbing behind-the-scenes tale of how narcissistic manipulation and the resulting psychological warfare can destroy an otherwise fruitful artistic relationship.

As our evening’s narrator James (Zachary Grant) explains, in the late 1980s he was assigned to El Centro Theatre to work off community service hours for vehicular misdeeds. There he meets Monica (Jenny O’Hara) who runs the theatre with an iron fist and has an anxious James quivering in his boots within minutes. Along with El Centro’s associate director/jack of all trades Danny (Ryan Brophy), James endures her slings and arrows, even after he fulfills his judicial obligation and Monica hires him as a glorified gofer, also manning the phones. While his phone etiquette is atrocious, James has a secret weapon: he writes plays.

Not good plays at first, but as Monica takes James under her wing, with her corrosive insults to his writing talent flustering him to no end, his work improves, and patrons start filling the house with each new play. But while the money rolls in, James sees little of it as Monica uses the withholding of remuneration to keep James cranking out product at an excruciating pace.

Soon, Hollywood comes calling and the shrewish Monica, aware that her meal ticket might fly the coop, sinks her talons deeper into James. While he knows their dysfunctional interaction drives his success, their “Stockholm Syndrome” pairing is devastating to his psyche and somehow, James must find a way to break loose. 

While the names – Tanner’s, Gibson’s, and mutual colleague Andy Daly’s – have been changed to protect the guilty in this autobiographical portrait, the innocent, familiar to many veterans of L.A.’s theatre scene, don’t get off as easily. Despite some opening night jitters, there’s a perverse joy witnessing the vivid O’Hara’s turn as the caustic Monica, who gleefully skewers theater folk from the era, rants about James’s and Danny’s freeloading actor friends, and bemoans her dearth of sexual partners. Monica’s diatribe closing Act One is classic Tanner, simultaneously hilarious and pitiful.

Brophy’s snide smirk and dry readings as “rich kid” Danny offer additional comic relief, especially on a hysterical trip with Monica and James up the California coast to celebrate James’s first TV deal check. Grant also offers up a convincing performance, starting off as naïve innocent – though Tanner has admitted in press material that his character is “much nicer than I was in real life,” – who transforms into a cynical professional. While James’s and Monica’s confrontations sometimes pull some punches, there is enough pugilistic spark to fire up the tension.

Director Lisa James’s keen staging on John Iacovelli’s realistic sets – Monica’s tawdry living room and the grubby office and theater backstage – give her the opportunity to place her performers in absorbing tableaux. A staircase accentuates the hierarchy the characters possess – or want to possess – as they sit or walk up it, and the face-to-face clashes put James and Monica on an equal footing, even if temporarily.

After a long period of estrangement and shortly before her death, Tanner and Gibson came to a peace of sorts, an acknowledgement that while time may not heal all wounds, some wounds must fester before healing to create lasting and luminous art.

Matrix Theatre, 7657 Melrose Ave, Los Angeles; Wed.-Sat., 8 pm.; Mon., Dec. 19, 8 pm.; Sun., 3 pm.; No perfs Christmas Eve and Day or New Year’s Eve and Day; through Jan. 8. https://www.roguemachinetheatre.net/little-theatre. (Running time two hours including a fifteen-minute intermission.)

Albee/Pinter 

Reviewed by Deborah Klugman
Pacific Resident Theatre
Through Feb. 5

RECOMMENDED

In 1960, Edward Albee and Harold Pinter were young playwrights whose work challenged theatrical convention and the expectations of critics and audiences. Both Albee’s brief two-hander, Fam and Yam, and Pinter’s lengthier one-act, The Dumb Waiter, received English language premieres that year — Albee’s at the Music Box Theatre on Broadway and Pinter’s at the Hampstead Theatre Club in London.

Different in style and substance, each nonetheless harbors the influence of Samuel Beckett and an absurdist perspective which posits the human experience as, at best, uneasy, uncertain and unsettling.

Under the artistic direction of Marilyn Fox, Pacific Resident Theater’s current production is a packaging of these two plays, with the view to re-examining the early work of two now established literary icons, who have themselves become points of reference for younger writers.

Of the two, The Dumb Waiter, directed by Fox and Elina de Santos, is the more accomplished. The action takes place in a dim basement of an old rooming house with a malfunctioning loo (set design William Wilday, lighting Matt Richter) where the self-contained Ben (Anthony Foux) and the younger antsier Gus (Jason Downs) are hanging out as prelude to a job they’re assigned to do. Though we don’t see a gun (right away), we intuit that this task might be a criminal one. Humor abounds, bred into the characters and their reality-circumventing dialogue, but most intensely concentrated around a primitive dumb waiter contraption which descends from the floor above with a thonk! (sound, Christopher Moscatiello). Each time it arrives, it’s with a request for some culinary preparation (suggesting the room the men are inhabiting was once a kitchen for a café), ranging from something as simple as tea and toast to an elaborate gourmet meal. Instead of ignoring the messages, the men scramble madly to fulfill the orders, a metaphoric commentary on the engrained propensity of the British working class to conform to societal expectations.

Too often I’ve seen Pinter flubbed by American actors out of sync with the playwright’s singular rhythms and terse dialogue, but here both performers have the language well in hand; in tandem, they capture the disease of their characters’ predicament and Pinter’s dystopic vision.

The production’s curtain-raiser, Fam and Yam — acronyms for Famous American Man and Young American Man — is a relatively obscure work about an encounter between two playwrights: Fam (Brad Greenquist) who is affluent and renowned, and his visitor Yam (Downs) an up-and-comer with a play running off-Broadway, uninvitingly titled Dilemma, Dereliction and Death. Neither fellow is likable: Fam is vain, stuffy and condescending, while Yam is an unctuous flatterer worming his way into Fam’s good graces.

Sporting an undercurrent of acrimony, Fam and Yam struck me as more of a comedy sketch or blueprint for future development than a mature or polished dramatic work. But it has an interesting pedigree: Reportedly (by Mel Gussow) it was inspired by a 1950s interchange between Albee at the beginning of his career and William Inge, who is thought to have been dismissive of Albee’s work, much as Fam in the play is cavalier about Yam’s successful new production. (see Charles McNulty’s LA Times’ commentary https://www.latimes.com/entertainment-arts/story/2022-12-07/commentary-mysterious-edward-albee-play). Tellingly, this play was omitted from the three-volume edition of Albee’s collected plays published in 2007.

Director Fox seems to have deliberately opted for a broad style of performance; Greenquist’s Fam in particular teeters on caricature, unfortunately without the crispness that would make it effective. That Fox may have been striving for straight parody is reinforced by the musical interlude that accompanies the set change between plays, wherein the actors and movement choreographer Myrna Gawryn engage in a lively little dance while moving pieces of furniture. It reminded me a bit of the animated overture to a Pink Panther movie — in this case, an effort to add some tongue-in-cheek levity to these playwrights’ darker work.

Pacific Resident Theatre, 705 ½ Venice Blvd., Venice. Wed., 3 pm, Fri.-Sat., 8 pm, Sun., 3 pm; thru Feb. 5. https://pacificresidenttheatre.org/albee-pinter Running time: approximately 75 minutes with no intermission.

Chriskirkpatrickmas: A Boy Band Christmas Musical

Reviewed by Julyza Commodore
The Actors Company
Thru December 11 

^RECOMMENDED

Calling all fans of boy-band NSYNC before this production says “Bye, Bye, Bye!” With a blend of holiday spirit and NSYNC history, Chriskirkpatrickmas: A Boy Band Christmas Musical is a parody with 12 original songs written by Valen Shore (music) and Alison Zatta (book and lyrics). With musical direction by Taylor J. Williams. The result is some very fun and catchy numbers.

The show is set in 2009 Los Angeles on Christmas Eve (as well as the late ‘90s when NSYNC was catching fire). The band’s founding member, Chris Kirkpatrick (Valen Shore), is met by guardian angel Marky Mark (Alison Zatta) – who was formerly known as, yes, Mark Wahlberg. Marky has been sent to help Chris and, with the guidance that he is offered, Chris goes back and forth between the past and present in order to come to terms with the band’s 2002 disbandment.

Choreographed by Lilli Fuller, each cast member gets to show off their dance skills. Additional NSYNC members Lance (Riley Rose Critchlow), Joey (Elizabeth Ho), J.C. (Mia-Carina Mollicone) and Justin (Nicole Wyland) as well as developer Lou Pearlman (Emily Lambert) are all played by women – the cast identifies as female and non-binary – seamlessly and enthusiastically portraying multiple characters.

As someone who didn’t experience the reign of NSYNC in the early naughts, I was nonetheless able to catch and understand whenever the jokes landed. No need to worry if you are not a NSYNC fanatic; however, if you are, so much better for you.

The show only takes but so much of itself seriously as it is so otherworldly and really serves as a reminder of the virtues of being imaginative. The intimate venue invites you into the story all the more.

The Actors Company, 916 N. Formosa Ave., Hlywd.; Wed.-Fri., 8pm; Sat., 2pm, Sun., 3pm; thru Dec. 11. https://chriskirpatrickmas.com

Mindplay

Reviewed by Joseph Klink
Geffen Playhouse
Through January 8 

RECOMMENDED

Directed by Andrew Neisler and co-written with Josho Koenigsberg, Mindplay is the creation of performer and mentalist Vinny DePonto.

The show is staged in an intimate space that frequently floods with blue light and shadow (lighting design, Pablo Santiago) and involves participation from members of the audience through their own memories and self-reflection. DePonto has the gift of creating trust by virtue of how he speaks and listens. Audience interaction is interwoven with DePonto’s various sleights-of-hand and the production’s wonderful design elements. There’s an element of surprise too, visually and otherwise. It matters not if you come in believing in mind tricks or mind-reading, or if instead you are among those of us who are skeptics. As performer, DePonto communicates his ideas with a personable warmth, so that each minute we’re there seems filled with sincerity.

It’s been over 10 years since I last saw a mentalist perform. I participated in the show at the time but in the end I was disappointed. My experience at Mindplay — which incorporates a narrative, as opposed to none — was different.  However, because of the nature of the material, I am bound not to be too specific, so as to leave the evening a mystery. But if you’re curious, even a little, follow it and let that lead you to this unique experience.

Geffen Playhouse, 10886 Le Conte Ave., West L. A.; Tues.-Fri., 7:30 pm, Sat.-Sun., 2:30 pm, Sun., 1 & 7 pm; thru Jan. 8. Running time: 80 minutes with no intermission. www.geffenplayhouse.org