Theater Reviews: One Fell Swoop, Eddie Kill the President, Pterodactyls

And remembering artist and activist Joel Bloom

Comments (0) By L.A. Weekly Theater Critics Monday, Jul 16 2007

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GO ONE FELL SWOOP Playwright Robert J. Litz does to politics what Joe Orton did to morality. His satire floats on cynicism and offers both solace and humor for those, armed with spit wads, who have given up on our national political system. With a Dem pres now in charge, Judge Richard Barron (Gregory Mortensen) — an advocate of privacy rights — is about to be nominated to the Supreme Court. The machine that kicks into play, as depicted by Litz, is such a parade of duplicitous Beltway gamers, vapid TV pundits (Alexandra Hoover has Ann Coulter’s aggressive mediocrity down to the last wince); a stand-in for Lindsey Graham (Robert John Brewer), whose folksy charm covers his thuggery; more operatives than stars in the sky — all of whose cumulative aim is to circumvent the truth with the kind of white noise that makes CNN — to use a comparatively moderate example — so unbearable. In the eye of the storm floats Caitlin Reese (Megan Dolan), a quasi-ambitious professor of constitutional law, who once had an affair with the judge when she was his student. This is one of those rare plays where the plot is almost beside the point. Its heart lies in the hyperactive savvy yet witheringly jaded attitudes of almost all the players who love this game, though it serves nobody but themselves. Director Christopher Game’s staging unfolds in corners and cubby holes, including a number of video screens. The production occasionally trips over itself, but this marks a high point for new political dramas. See Stage feature next week. ELEPHANT THEATRE COMPANY, 6322 Santa Monica Blvd., Hlywd.; Thurs.-Sat., 8 p.m.; thru Aug. 18. (323) 960-4410. (Steven Leigh Morris)

PTERODACTYLS Nicky Silver’s undeniably clever play might be described as apocalyptic farce, or smarty-pants nihilism, positing the notion that we, like the dinosaurs, are heading toward extinction, thanks to our denial of basic realities. Young Todd (Todd Kubrak) left home five years ago and hasn’t been heard from since. Now he has returned, after a life of determined depravity and risk, to announce that he has AIDS. His sister, Emma (Veronique Ory), who has memory problems, denies that she ever had a brother. His frivolous, alcoholic mother (Gillian Doyle) refuses to acknowledge his illness and retreats into meaningless chatter, despite an incestuous attraction to Todd. Meanwhile, Dad (Christopher Bradley), leches after Emma and cherishes the wildly mistaken illusion that his children adore him. Emma has just become engaged to a waiter named Tommy (Ryan Baylor), but Mom insists that he become their servant and wear a brief French maid’s costume that suggests 1930s pornography. Director Patrick Varon provides a slick and brisk production on Stefan Depner’s elegantly sterile set, and the cast, if not quite brilliant, is accomplished and able. Athena Theatre at THE STELLA ADLER THEATRE, 6773 Hollywood Blvd., Hlywd.; Thurs.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun. 7 p.m.; thru July 29. (818) 754-1423. (Neal Weaver)

(Photo by Jeremy Asher)

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UBU THE SHIT! The character of Pa Ubu, playwright Alfred Jarry’s iconic paragon of greed, rage and childlike appetite, is one of the great grotesque figures of modern theater — and director Jeremy Aluma’s energetic, broad production crackles with stylized movement that deftly illustrates the play’s twin tones of undignified farce and human tragedy. Jarry’s comedy is essentially a spoof of Macbeth with hag Ma Ubu prodding Pa Ubu into overthrowing the King of Poland and taking over his royal throne, a gold-plated toilet. Ubu quickly becomes a monstrous tyrant, and is forced out of office, hiding out in a cave where he battles both a gigantic bear and his treacherous wife. During various scenes, each member of the nine-person ensemble gets a whack at playing Ubu, donning a fat suit, a gigantic green penis, and a ghoulish, leering face mask. The production possesses a wonderfully youthful energy — and it’s obvious that the actors are having the time of their lives. Yet the text is sabotaged to some extent, when the performers squeak, shriek, bawl or grunt their dialogue. Though the masks are lovely to look at, they muffle almost all of Pa and Ma’s lines, while the show’s blocking is messy and unfocused. We often don’t know at what place on the stage we’re supposed to be looking. THE COMPLEX, 6476 Santa Monica Blvd., Hlywd.; Fri.-Sat., 8 & 10; thru Aug 4. (323) 960-4484. (Paul Birchall)IN MEMORIUM Artist-activist Joel Bloom died Friday, July 13, of cancer at age 59. Cantankerous and generous, Bloom was instrumental through the ’80s in helping transform the Downtown Arts District into a hub of creative activity. In the ’90s, he ran a tiny general store in that district that also served as a community center. Bloom advocated not only for the city to pay attention to downtown-east but also against abuses by film companies using the area for its scenically vivid ambience. He also successfully opposed LAUSD’s attempt to place its distribution warehouse in the area. Last month, the Los Angeles City Council passed a resolution dedicating Joel Bloom Square. A sign has been posted at the triangular intersection of East Third Street and Traction Avenue. If the tawdry, fenced-in site is revitalized with the same conviction and energy that Bloom dedicated to the area, that would be the most fitting tribute. (Steven Leigh Morris)