Theater Reviews

Including this week's picks The Car Plays, San Francisco Mime Troupe and the Second Annual Latino New Works Festival

Comments (0) By L.A. Weekly Theater Critics Wednesday, Sep 13 2006

(Photo by Sconyers/Stein)

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THE BACCHAE Charles L. Mee’s take on Euripides’ Theban tragedy is an acquired taste. Written in the early 1990s, it’s a kind of postmodern celebration of Minoan matriarchy, with scoops of other people’s sexually charged writing thrown in, with authors ranging from Georges Bataille to Valerie Solanas. So it can be lyrically beautiful or sound like open-mike night at A Different Light. King Pentheus (Troy Dunn) is a staunch advocate of heterosexual rationalism and black suits. He loathes the carnal chaos represented by the god of wine, Dionysus (Justin Davanzo) and the Bacchae, his woman followers who live without men in the wilderness. Or does he? Halfway through this 75-minute production, we realize that Pentheus has quite a few secret sides to him, especially when he dresses in women’s garments to infiltrate the cliff-dwelling women’s camp. There’s not much in the way of linear “storytelling” here, and the show relies upon movement, music and declarative oration as much as dialogue. Director Frederíque Michel displays a confident scenarist’s eye in her stage compositions, and her production shimmers with a languid beauty. She’s ably assisted by production designer Charles A. Duncombe, whose weathered shoreline set, complete with beached boat, gives a sense of shipwrecked ambition, and whose velvety lighting bathes the ensemble, many of whom appear nude or seminude. Josephine Poinsot’s witty costuming swings from modern to timelessly diaphanous. CITY GARAGE, 1340½ Fourth St., Santa Monica; Fri.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 5:30 p.m.; thru Oct. 22. (310) 319-9939. (Steven Mikulan)

THE BOW WOW CLUB In his trilogy, For the Love of Freedom, playwright Levy Lee Simon demonstrated an epic grasp of French colonialism and revolution in Haiti. Here, he brings the psychological baggage of domestic colonialism and slavery to a contemporary barbecue in suburban New York, to the 25-year reunion of a club of African-American men from Harlem who prided themselves on their sexual prowess and camaraderie. Two and a half decades later, they gather with wives and significant others to the home of former Army jock Kirk (John Marshall Jones), now struggling with self-worth, and that of his religious wife, Diane (Nancy Cheryll Davis). After tribal, macho greetings (including dog calls and hugs), we (and they) discover that Chuck (Terrance Ellis) is gay; Alex (Erik Kilpatrick), once a spokesperson for black identity, has married and impregnated a white scholar of interracial relations (Addie Daddio); star crooner Lester (understudy James Black) shows off his success with expensive gifts and shows up with a French model (Amanda Aardsma), whose short, clingy dress and the gyrations she does in it bring out the venom in Beverly (Maimie-Louise Anderson), whose marriage to Sal (Freedom) is already being battered by life’s sharp rocks. Infidelity, love, sexuality and wounded pride form the cornerstone themes, resulting in the idea that merely surviving the heritage of slavery is a major victory. Dan Martin’s somewhat uncrafted direction benefits from the actors’ charisma — particularly that of Jones, Davis, Freedom, Anderson, Ellis and Black. MASTERINGTHEAUDITION.COM and THE STELLA ADLER THEATRE, 6773 Hollywood Blvd., Second Floor, Hlywd.; Fri.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 3 p.m.; thru Oct. 15. (323) 960-5521. (Steven Leigh Morris)

PICK THE CAR PLAYS One creative solution for a theater without a space is to take their show on the road. If there’s no road available, try a parking lot. That’s what Moving Arts is trying in The Car Plays , a distant echo of Wolfskill Theatre Company’s drive-in version of Marat/Sade , several years ago, in a parking lot for an audience viewing from their cars and listening via speakers provided by the theater. Here 20 plays (of 10 minutes or less) are performed inside 20 cars, lined up in four rows of five. Though performances run from 6 to 10 p.m., your ticket is good for an hour, or five plays. From the theater’s foyer, a carhop escorts you to the first vehicle, where you’ll climb in with one or two passengers. Stage managers shut the doors until the actors arrive. I saw a rehearsal for Paul Stein’s “Two Fellas, One Fella.” Gary Marschall and Jon Amirkhan jangled car keys and eventually climbed in the front seats, bickering about Amirkhan’s crude Armenian taste and Marschall’s American arrogance. Dialogue revealed they had walked a considerable distance for this “pick up,” which concerned a body in the trunk; here, things started to turn Tarantino-esque. Moving Arts promises an experience unlike most, and is truly living up to its name. Moving Arts at THE STEVE ALLEN THEATER, 4773 Hollywood Blvd., Hlywd.; Sat., Sept. 16, hourly perfs 6-10 p.m.; $15. (866) 811-4111. (Steven Leigh Morris)

DO LORD REMEMBER ME Next time you hear some guy bitching about how there’s no good theater in L.A., hogtie him, toss him into your car and drive straight to the Raven Playhouse for Wilson Bell’s staging of Do Lord Remember Me; that ought to shut him up. James de Jongh’s historical musical consists of the authentic oral histories of former slaves, woven together with Negro spirituals. The cast is composed of five actors who play multiple parts. There are no extraneous actors in the cast, and the set and lighting reflect that same minimalism. Aside from the rare, well-placed flash of red, lighting designer Christopher Singleton refrains from fancy effects. James Esposito’s set consists of only three chairs and a box. All this economy allows for the stories to take center stage. I was wishing that Arthur Alonzo Richardson, as Slave, would never leave the stage. His ability to inhabit each of his characters is incomparable, and his soulful performance is tempered by touches of playfulness, even in the darkest scenes. With such heavy subject matter, it’s amazing that this production is so much fun. Despite the immeasurable pain these ex-slaves endured, the final, prevailing sentiment is not bitter, but grateful, that “God done spared a few o’ us to tell da tale.” Chromolume Theatre Company at the RAVEN PLAYHOUSE, 5233 Lankershim Blvd., N. Hlywd.; Fri.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 7 p.m.; thru Oct. 1. (310) 315-3537. (Stephanie Lysaght)