THE ARTIFICIAL JUNGLE “Steal lines,” playwright Charles Ludlam advised. “Orchestrate platitudes. Hang them on plots you found somewhere else.” Ludlam followed his own advice, relying constantly on parody, pastiche and occasional plagiarism, but since his scripts were only launching pads for his own brand of inspired lunacy, nobody minded. This piece centers on Chester Nurdiger (Eddie Pratt), a nebbishy pet-shop owner who lives with his doting mother (Diane Frank) and his randy wife, Roxanne (Stacy Marr). When he hires a studly shop assistant, Zach (Robert McCollum), Zach and Roxanne decide to murder Chester and feed his body to the piranhas. Though critics identified the play as a satire on movies like The Postman Always Rings Twice and Double Indemnity, it is, in fact, a scene-by-scene, often line-by-line homage to (and rip-off of) a Broadway thriller called Therese, adapted by Thomas Job from Zola’s Therese Racquin, though the final lines are lifted from Camus. Transformed by Ludlam’s fiendish erudition, comic acting and directorial genius, the play was a hit. Here, director William Arrigon gives it a flat-footed, literal production, which only underlines the script’s rickety nature. There are funny moments, however, and Marr often sounds the right note, but the demented Ludlam touch goes missing. LONNY CHAPMAN GROUP REPERTORY THEATER, 10900 Burbank Blvd., N. Hlywd.; Fri.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 2 p.m.; indef. (Note: production is double cast.) (818) 700-4878. (Neal Weaver)
THE DEALER WAS SHOWING SIX William Norrett’s romantic comedy explores the fortunes of two couples who find themselves in Las Vegas during the same weekend. Dr. Douglas Wolanyk (Vaughn Mouton) and his wife Madeline’s (Mona King) relationship is steeped in mediocrity, spurring amusing conversation about hypothetical affairs and “cheat on your wife free” cards as they drive to Vegas. On the other hand, Hollis Templeton (Jason Stafford) and his girlfriend, Stephanie Gormley (Jaclyn Friedlander), are in the throes of young love, though their conversations and movements in the opening scene belie that, seeming forced and stiff. Once the couples arrive in Sin City, drinks are consumed, truths are revealed, and all sorts of hijinks ensue. A particular bright spot in the performance is Greg Kaczynski as the Drunk, who spouts an endless litany of chants, cheers and Run-DMC lyrics as he cleans up at the blackjack table. King also paints a hilarious portrait of a dissatisfied suburban housewife who slathers her issues with a patina of smiles, kisses and small talk. Norrett’s direction improves as the piece progresses, though his attempts to shuffle together highbrow comedy and lowbrow frat jokes don’t always beat the spread. ZOMBIE JOE’S UNDERGROUND, 4850 Lankershim Blvd., N. Hlywd.; Fri.-Sat., 8:30 p.m.; thru June 17. (818) 202-4120. (Mayank Keshaviah)
GO THE HOTHOUSE Harold Pinter wrote this lacerating comedy in 1958, but held back for 22 years before allowing it to be staged — a reluctance difficult to fathom given the work’s scalding humor and scintillating take on the banality of evil. The action takes place in a dehumanizing state institution where the residents, whom we never see, are identified by number rather than name, and where an unexplained birth and an untoward death have both mysteriously transpired. The domineering head honcho, a man named Roote (Abner Genece), is an abusive bureaucrat whom we suspect to be implicated in these sinister events despite his selective amnesia. To shield him from culpability, his chief toady (Art Oden) pins the guilt on an innocuous staffer aptly named Lamb (David Kempen), conveniently rendered blank with shock therapy. Under Christopher Cappiello’s direction, the solid performances nevertheless fall short of rendering a truly Pinteresque universe, though David Permenter’s sound effects are appropriately both comic and creepy. Genece in particular, while eminently watchable, projects his manic-depressive character a bit too broadly. The outstanding exception is Oden, who, operating with masterly reserve, captures the playwright’s sensibility and, ironically, the spotlight. UNKNOWN THEATER, 1110 N. Seward St., L.A.; Thurs.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 6 p.m.; thru July 1. (323) 466-7781. (Deborah Klugman)
KEEPING FAITH Alex Peabody tells the story of how, as a gay man, he and his partner came to adopt the baby daughter of his partner’s sister, Rachel. A hunger for family underscores the monologue, combined with Peabody’s role as wife and mother — when Rachel was pregnant, Peabody underwent psychosomatic symptoms of pregnancy. The wedding dress of his mother, the onstage rocking chair and shawl of his grandmother, references to ginger snaps and “gentle, love-felt laughter that feels like falling snow” all wrap the piece in a blanket of nostalgia and longing. I’d have given a lot for some subtext or sarcasm or some less earnest variation on Peabody’s scrupulously scrubbed confessional. When Rachel has “second thoughts” about giving up her baby to a gay male couple, or when Peabody finds himself in a very compromised position outside a dance club, or when a woman in the clinic gives him her moralizing opinion, the tension ratchets up for a moment. But for all his candor, Peabody comes off as a sweet child who rarely questions himself in a story that’s more gentle than penetrating. He might check out Michael Kearns’ comparatively textured biographical sketches, and then get back to us. Elizabeth Hyer Rose directs. PACIFIC RESIDENT THEATER, 703 Venice Blvd., Venice; Fri.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 3 p.m.; thru June 25. (310) 822-8392. (Steven Leigh Morris)
