King Liz

Reviewed by Deborah Klugman

Geffen Playhouse

Thru August 14

Liz Rico (Sabrina Sloan) the central character in playwright Fernanda Coppel’s sports-themed drama, is one tough cookie. A woman-of-color, she’s hauled herself up by her bootstraps, transitioning through hard work from an impoverished childhood (her mom died of cancer because her dad couldn’t afford treatment) to Yale on a full scholarship to a pinnacled place as a sports agent with one of the most prestigious companies in the business. In her 40s and blazing hot in her 4-inch stilettos, Liz now owns a luxury condo on the Upper West Side in proximity to people like Steven Spielberg and Oprah Winfrey. She’s been recognized several times in Forbes and Time magazines, and is viewed by her peers as one of the most formidable and relentless players in her game, which is still mostly dominated by men.

All this Liz imparts to a 19-year-old wannabe NBA player, Freddie Luna (Evan Morris Reiser) whom she wants to recruit at the expressed request of her boss, Mr. Candy (Ray Abruzzo). In high school, Freddie had displayed enormous talent, but he comes with baggage, notably a conviction for assault and a fiery temper. Liz’s instincts tell her to pass on this one, but Candy insists, letting her know that a successful recruitment and handling of Freddie will score her as the CEO-ship of his firm following his imminent retirement. So Liz successfully pursues the youth who, predictably, messes things up post haste, prompting a chain of events that has the hitherto invincible Liz scrambling to ensure her survival, and Freddie’s as well.

It goes without saying that a narrative built around such a commanding character rises or falls with the lead performance. Liz is mean and un-empathetic —but she’s also possessed of rare personal power and intelligence. But while Sloan handles nuance skillfully, the larger-than-life drive and magnetism the role demands are missing from the start. The performance on offer would work well before a camera, but falls short for the stage.

Sloan’s misfire is one among many in this production, which is why I’m inclined to attribute it to Jesca Prudencia’s weak direction.  As Freddie, Reiser is all concept —which is that of a volatile but vulnerable youth who consistently sabotages his opportunities. The concept is spot-on, but the actor never gets past it,  instead reaching time and again for the external tools of his trade — physicality and volume — to convey what should emanate from within. As Mr. Candy, Abruzzo plays some of his scenes with embarrassing clownishness — but why? Again, these are choices that a savvy director would question, rather than promote or let slide.

Some of the directorially mismanaged subplots include Liz’s abusive relationship with her administrative assistant, Gabby (Michelle Ortiz), which should be a compelling thread (given that she treats Gabby even worse than any man would) but isn’t, and her complicated association with Freddie’s coach (Oscar Best). The latter relationship is at once professionally combative and privately intimate — yet there’s not the slightest hint in early scenes of their personal history together,  rendering the later revelations around their past and the coach’s aspirations for something deeper and more meaningful barely believable, if at all.

Scenic and video designer Justin Humphres’s set is a bland affair: a purplish-blue backdrop, with a pattern of yellow crowns and (from what I could see from where I was sitting) tiny birds (not sure about that one) that opens up to reveal, then conceal, a variety of emerging, then retreating, sets: Liz’s office, Freddie’s digs, and so on. None is especially arresting. Also, while the various images projected onto the side walls occasionally elaborate constructively on the action, most do not; they appear to be there just for the sake of it.

Melanie Chen Cole’s sound design punctuates the action with hyper–dramatic between-the-scenes music. Designer Devario D. Simmons costumes Sloan to elegant advantage (though I kept fixating on those back-breaking heels, also worn by Gabby), but Best’s coach is shabbier than he needs to be, and Gabby’s final triumphant outfit, a bright busy floral number, makes you want to squint.

In the program Coppell, a Mexican-American immigrant, shares why she wrote the play — which offers few surprises narratively but nevertheless encompasses the struggle of a minority woman to make a success of her life. (It’s the theme, not the details, that are personal for this playwright). This perspective, of a woman-of-color battling against odds, bestows on King Liz a big plus in my book, and makes me wish I’d seen it mounted in a more insightful way.

Geffen Playhouse, 10886 Le Conte Avenue, Westwood; Tues.-Fri., 8 pm; Sat., 3 & 8 pm; Sun., 2 pm & 7 pm; thru Aug. 14. Running time: two hours and 15 minutes with an intermission. www.geffenplayhouse.org.