Theater Reviews

STITCHING Anthony Neilson’s subtly brutal two-character drama focuses on a young couple, Stuart (Dan Roach) and Abby (Lindsay Lauren Wray). They disagree about everything, both have been unfaithful, and both are experts at playing blame games, but now she is pregnant with his child. In the opening scene, they argue over whether she should have the baby. In the final scene, they decide to do so, in the hope that having a child will give them a clean slate and a new beginning. In between, we see what really happened. Their slates are not wiped clean, and they hold their tattered relationship together by playing out ever-escalating fantasies and sadomasochistic sex games, which eventually involve their child. The early scenes provide clever relationship comedy, and the middle ones are undeniably transgressive, titillating and deliberately shocking, but it’s hard to tell what Neilson sought to accomplish beyond sensationalism. The fractured chronology and dark hints about unexplained events lend it a portentous air, but ultimately it seems to be merely a slick exercise in Grand Guignol. It’s expertly directed by Don Stewart, and acted with cool precision by the actors, whose youthful charm and good looks only make it more disturbing. Ark Theater Company, 1647 S. La Cienega Blvd., W.L.A.; Fri., 8 p.m.; Sun., 7 p.m.; thru June 4. (323) 969-1707. (Neal Weaver)

THE TEMPEST Director N.J. Smeets apparently feels it’s his job to make Shakespeare interesting — as if the Bard couldn’t manage on his own. He gimmicks things up, adding pop songs, employing three Ariels (Eric Hailey, Kathryn Gilbert and Lucy Bansley), and encourages his players to strenuously act out the surface imagery with little regard for internal logic or dramatic intentions. Lines sometimes become hard to grasp, even for one who knows the text. The able principals (Carl Crudup as Prospero, Katie Guman as Miranda, William Caldwell as Caliban and Adam Burch as Ferdinand) might fare better in a simpler production with a more coherent point of view. Smeets presents the text virtually uncut, even when cutting seems needed: Prospero’s speeches to the nymphs and shepherds have been retained, even though the characters they address have been eliminated. In the masque, the male Ariel plays Iris as vaudeville juvenile, while the female Ariels play Ceres as a cooch dancer and Juno as a whip-bearing dominatrix — odd attire for goddesses intent on solemnizing marriage. It’s possible to send up a script, or to play it straight, but doing both at once produces a mishmash of clashing tones, evoking little magic in this most magical play. The Met Theater, 1089 N. Oxford Ave., Hlywd.; Thurs.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 3 p.m.; thru April 30. (323) 957-1152. (Neal Weaver)

WIDE AWAKE What do you do when you’re raised in the tiny Sierra Nevada town of Oakhurst, and your father is an ex-Jesuit priest and your mother’s a former nun? Why, the obvious answer, in performer Jennifer Hasty’s case at least, is to create your own one-person show with philosophical undercurrents. Hasty’s solo effort is a tuneful tour de force lounge act, consisting of a number of fabulous covers of classic rock anthems, bracketed between some rather less successful monologues. Hasty’s voice is a rare and powerful combination of haunting folk subtlety, backed with a rich, near-operatic mezzo, and she brings unexpected depth to her all-stops-pulled renditions of ballads by Tracy Chapman, Janis Joplin, Stevie Nicks and even Elvis Presley. Sadly, though, Hasty’s accompanying monologues, which consist of rambling and surprisingly rigid discourses about morality, are not memorable. Staged by director Bob Koherr as quick-paced “confessionals,” these scenes are so guarded that they ultimately reveal little about what motivates and drives the performer. Instead, the passages possess an emotional prickliness that comes across as awkwardly lecturing — and the show contains a faint whiff of irony, particularly when Hasty follows a Dr. Laura–like sermonette with Janis’ raucous “Me and Bobby Mcgee.” Her irrelevant sneering at shows like American Idol is also unintentionally ironic as well, given that the production basically serves as one long American Idol audition. M Bar, 253 Vine St., Hlywd.; April 28, May 19 & 26, 8 p.m. (323) 856-0036. (Paul Birchall)