Key Largo

Reviewed by Deborah Klugman
Geffen Playhouse
Extended through December 15

In Key Largo, a 1948 film classic, Humphrey Bogart played a disillusioned anti-hero, an ex-army officer in World War II who, despite his cynicism, musters up enough moral conviction to stand up to Edward G. Robinson’s sneering gangster, Johnny Rocco. Based on a play by Maxwell Anderson (different from the movie in that the bad guys were Mexican bandidos, the war was the Spanish Civil War, and the hero dies at the end), the film communicated an unshakably righteous distinction between right and wrong, good guys and bad ones.

Directed by Doug Hughes at Geffen Playhouse, this new stage adaptation by Jeffrey Hatcher and Andy Garcia hasn’t strayed too far from the film; indeed, not only do the characters and their dialogue sound familiar, but, like the film, they operate within an anachronistic black-and-white world view in which, reassuringly, good triumphs over evil in the end. At a time when gangsterism has usurped the highest echelons in our land, viewing a Johnny Rocco as the ultimate villain is, for me, an uphill sell. So while the production arrives with a knockout set (John Lee Beatty), plenty of ambience and an entertaining portrayal by Garcia as Rocco, it’s easy enough to be distracted and annoyed by flawed performances in a couple of other significant roles. I chalk that up to lax directorial oversight.

Danny Pino plays ex-army major Frank McCloud, who’s arrived at a shuttered hotel in Key Largo to deliver his regards and condolences to the family of one of the men who had died under his command. The hotel is owned by the deceased man’s Dad, the blind Mr. D’Alcala (Tony Plana), who’s now assisted in the running of his establishment by pretty young Nora (Rose McIver), his son’s hastily wed widow. Right now, the only guests are drug-runner Rocco, his two henchmen Curly (Louis Mustillo) and Toots (Stephen Borrello), and Rocco’s moll Gaye (Joely Fisher), a once glamorous head-turner gone to seed by way of alcohol. The first scene is an encounter between McCloud and Rocco’s crew, in which the former establishes his bona fides as a man’s man who demonstrates courtesy to women where the other men show contempt.

With a hurricane on the horizon, the criminals await word from a buyer of their heroin, a former associate of Johnny’s who took over some of his territory after the recently-released mobster went to prison. Hovering on the outskirts of the plot is the local sheriff (Richard Riehle), on the hunt for a couple of escaped prisoners — two Native Americans who had been incarcerated for minor offenses.

The crux of the drama is the psychological mano-a-mano between a reluctant man of principle and an unscrupulous blackguard practically salivating in anticipation of assaulting the pure and honest Nora. Theatrically speaking, however, there’s no contest between Pino’s sullen McCloud and Garcia’s flamboyant Rocco — a role the latter performer slips into easily and obviously relishes big time. By contrast, a theater audience gets very little from Pino who, under Hughes’s misdirection, appears to have mistakenly cultivated his character for the camera rather than for the Geffen’s medium-sized proscenium.

The other disappointing depiction is of the feisty D’Alcala. With McCloud functioning as the cynical anti-hero, it falls to this character to articulate all the hokey sentiments and righteous anger typical of post–World War II American pop culture, preserved in this contemporary adaptation. It’s a pitfall Plana hasn’t managed to escape in a disappointingly declamatory performance. He also seemed rather too vigorous and healthy for his character, a disabled man in a shuttered hotel deeply grieving his lost son.

As the vulnerable Nora, McIver is attractive and appealing, but she doesn’t do much to stamp the role as her own. Mustillo as Rocco’s yes-man, Riehle as the sheriff, and Bradley Smedeker in a cameo as the cocky hood with whom Rocco does business all manage to rise above stereotype. Fisher (on stage too rarely, for my money) delivers a soulful performance as Rocco’s castoff, much-abused inamorata.

The set is a visual feast, but I could not help thinking it should have been shabbier and more weathered, given the financial strata of its proprietor. As sound designer, Alex Hawthorn does a great job conjuring the storm, and the production design (production designers Kaitlin Pietras and Jason H. Thompson, with lighting by Peter Kaczorowski and score by Arturo Sandoval) is impressive.

Geffen Playhouse, 10886 Le Conte Ave., Westwood; Tues.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sat., 3 p.m.; Sun., 2 p.m. & 7 p.m.; extended through Dec. 15. geffenplayhouse.org. Running time: approximately one hour and 35 minutes with an intermission.