Theater Reviews

JULIUS CAESAR Some of the Bard’s most eloquent passages are plucked from this historical tragedy that weighs in on fate, ambition and the sacrifice of personal loyalties for the public good. Directed by Karesa McElheny, this production overlays the material with a twist: It transforms Rome into a matriarchy where women run things and men are timorous and deferential. Lisa Tharps plays the pivotal Brutus, who is persuaded by an obsessed Cassius (Mary T. Sala) to betray her friend Caesar (Marti Hale) because she’s (allegedly) posing a threat to Roman liberty. The nontraditional casting — the characters’ names are preserved but gender pronouns are altered — poses a challenge to the performers in addition to their handling the demanding text and its intricate complexities. The weakest link is Hale’s head of state, who comes off like a domineering society matron, and whose persona begs the question of how she would command the allegiance of either other stateswomen, such as Anthony (Pili Nathaniel), or the Roman public. Ultimately, however, the problem with many of the performances comes down to their lack of nuance and tendency toward melodrama. Tharps’ best moments are her rhetorical ones, rather than her reflective scenes. As her nemesis, Nathaniel sticks to a fierce one-note turn, while Sala’s well-crafted Cassius starts out solid but never probes as deeply as she might have. KNIGHTSBRIDGE THEATER, 1944 Riverside Dr., L.A.; Fri.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 3 p.m.; thru Oct. 14. (323) 667-0955. (Deborah Klugman)

GO THE MILK TRAIN DOESN’T STOP HERE ANYMORE Despite the talents of director Tony Richardson and a cast that included Tallulah Bankhead, Tab Hunter and Marian Seldes, Tennessee Williams’ play closed on Broadway in 1964 after only five performances. It was not one of Williams’ best plays. However, director Simon Levy and a terrific cast headed by Karen Kondazian do a magnificent job of bringing this black comedy to life. In a passionate performance, Kondazian plays Flora Goforth, a drug-addled, wealthy widow holed up in an Italian villa. She’s ostensibly writing her memoirs with the help of her devoted secretary, Blackie (Lisa Pelikan), but it’s not going well and their work is interrupted when a young man trespasses on the grounds to deliver a book of poetry to Flora. His name is Christopher Flanders (Michael Rodgers), but as the Witch of Capri (Scott Presley in drag) warns Flora, the young man has been nicknamed The Angel of Death in light of his past visits to aging divas. The production design is as superb as the cast. Shon Le Blanc’s costumes evoke both the excesses and reserve of the early 1960s. Kathi O’Donohue’s gorgeous lighting suggests the beauty of the Italian coast as reflected on Travis Gale Lewis’ multi-functional set. FOUNTAIN THEATRE, 5060 Fountain Ave.; Thurs.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 2 p.m.; thru Nov. 4. (323) 663-1525. (Sandra Ross)

THE ROOM Writer-director Michael Franco’s ambitious but unevenly executed play is set in the years leading up to World War II. Wealthy beyond the dreams of avarice, but feeling like he’s doing nothing with his life, tycoon Vincent Astor (Shawn MacAulay) establishes a salon for New York’s best and brightest — or, at least, the rich and the richest — to discuss the Great Issues of the Day. During cocktails and dinner in Astor’s snazzy Manhattan East Side townhouse, the various millionaires and celebrities trade gossip about the economy, politics and the troubles in Europe — when Vincent starts to realize that his group could just as easily be a useful think tank tool for spycraft and policy. Franco’s play is extremely well researched, but the story is aimless, the writing is talky and the characters do little but react passively to outside events. This is the sort of drama in which characters sit around holding whiskey glasses, saying things such as, “Ah, that Hitler fellow will never come to power!” Admittedly, director Franco’s staging is both atmospheric and intimate — and engaging turns are offered by MacAulay, as a calm and sensitive Astor, and by John Gegenhuber, as Astor’s good pal, FDR’s sweetly blustery, alcoholic, ne’er-do-well nephew, Kermit. Yet the pacing flags appallingly midway through and, with the lack of dramatic conflict and suspense, ultimately proves fatal. Open Fist Theatre, 6209 Santa Monica Blvd., Hlywd.; Fri.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 7 p.m.; thru Nov 18. (323) 882-6912. (Paul Birchall)