Four Chords and a Gun

Reviewed by Maureen Lee Lenker
Bootleg Theater
Through July 31^st 

Four Chords and a Gun, a new play from John Ross Bowie, chronicles two years in the lives of the punk rock band, The Ramones. The play lays bare their tumultuous personal relationships during the production of their fifth album with legendary music producer Phil Spector. Amidst this drama, it probes questions about the nature of art and commerce.

Though the piece ultimately provokes intriguing questions about how we define art as work and vice versa, it is as uneven as the rock careers of its central characters. The Ramones, who rose to prominence in the 1970s, played a major role in defining the punk rock sound, influencing many later bands, including the global superstar Green Day. However, they themselves only saw limited commercial success: Their careers peaked with the release of their fifth album End of the Century, the troubled production of which is detailed in the plot.

The play is largely enjoyable, buoyed by a trio of strong performances, a dark sense of humor, and an inventive stage design and use of projections. It takes a while to get to its more winning aspects, however, and the opening scene, with its jarring wigs (which ultimately grow on you) and thick New York City accents, initially leaves cause for concern. But once Phil Spector (Josh Brener) arrives and we get into the meat of the story, we are off on a madcap ride that, even if it is a hair too long, provides a satisfying and a distinctly different night out at the theater.

Framed by narration from the only surviving band member, Marky Ramone (James Pumphrey), the play takes us through the record’s production, bookending the story with monologues that explain the band’s beginnings and its existence beyond this two-year period. Apart from these bookends, which provide the audience with useful context, the narration falls flat, filling the same role as a title card in a film, and adding little else. At times stilted and overly expository, the writing does sing in quieter moments when it addresses the nature of art, while Bowie’s use of black comedy nails the tone for a show about punk rockers.

The comedy finds its perfect mouthpiece in actor Josh Brener who (taking a summer hiatus from his consistently strong work on Silicon Valley) brings life to Phil Spector. In Brener’s hands, Spector is a frightening, unpredictable and hilarious cape-wearing eccentric who zooms from musings on his Judaism to holding band members at gunpoint if they disagree with his artistic viewpoint. He delivers icy bon mots with aplomb, such as, “How long would the Stones have lasted if Mick Jagger had been the one to drown in a pool?” In a less deft actor’s hands, Spector could be the stuff of caricature (especially given the foreshadowing of Spector’s murderous future), but Brener toes this line. Each time he edges near the histrionic, he pulls us back to cold reality with a glimpse of Spector’s unhinged soul.

Some of the other performances are less nuanced. As Marky and Dee Dee Ramone, James Pumphrey and Michael Daniel Cassady veer wildly from touching believability to stagey interpretations of intoxication. (Oddly, the more Dee Dee descends into substance abuse, the stronger Cassady’s performance becomes).

This is balanced out by compelling turns from Johnathan McClain and Matthew Patrick Davis as Johnny and Joey Ramone respectively. McClain imbues Johnny with a rage simmering under the surface at all times, providing a lit fuse that contrasts with Davis’ soulful take on Joey. At 6’8” Davis is the perfect physical choice to embody the 6’5” gangly Joey Ramone, and he delivers a quietly powerful performance as a man desperate to make his mark on the world but too trapped in his own head to enjoy the ride. McClain offers a superb foil as a man angry with the world for stifling his authenticity.

The production also makes wise use of its expansive space, leaving much of the bare warehouse walls visible to the audience, thus enhancing the raw, punk flavor of the story. Set changes are often lengthy, but are accompanied by stagehands dressed like Ramone’s roadies, as well as the rock music and projections of footage of the real band. Though these interludes exist for practical reasons, they do much to enhance the tone of the production, and give the audience a chance to hear and see the music being birthed in the narrative.

Ultimately, the questions the play raises about the nature of art are its most compelling feature. As much as we want to believe in the purity of art and its creation, we cannot deny that it is a difficult undertaking that demands an unflagging work ethic. How can we balance this labor (and occasional drudgery) with the myth of the creative muse? Johnny defiantly proclaims, “…art comes out of you; it’s real; it’s spontaneous.”

A noble thought, but despite betrayals and wounds that never healed, the Ramones stayed together for twenty-two years by approaching their art as a job, and their fellow band members as coworkers. It is this paradox that sends audiences into the night with more to chew on than a darkly comic dive into the life of four punk rockers and their mental producer.

Bootleg Theater, 2220 Beverly Blvd. Los Angeles; Wed.-Sat., 7 p.m.; Sun., 2 p.m.; through July 31. www.bootlegtheater.org. Running time: 90 minutes with no intermission