Theater Reviews: My Trip Down the Pink Carpet, Scrooge Must Die!

Plus, A Grand Guignol Children's Show, A Chicago Christmas Carol and more

Comments (0) By L.A. Weekly Theater Critics Tuesday, Dec 9 2008

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ARROZ CON POLLO The titular Puerto Rican dish becomes the central metaphor for human and humane relationships in Edward H. Hernandez’s tightly drawn, extremely literate but unfinished morality tale. Brian Turley convincingly portrays Nathan, a Midwestern MBA hatchet man, brought to New York by a powerful corporation to oversee a tsunami of layoffs. Rafael Robles smoothly embodies Victor, the company’s wise and enigmatically spiritual custodian, who offers a perfect foil to Nathan’s worldly indifference. But it is Victor’s lovely daughter, Angela (an earnest if overplayed performance by Andrea Munoz), and her Tupperware dish of arroz con pollo that lures Nathan’s innate decency out from behind his calloused heart. The trio’s ultimate goodness is sorely tested by the cold-blooded greed of the CEO’s daughter, Emily (played with apt chilliness by Katherine Leilani McDowell). Mary Jo DuPrey directs the fine cast, with an intensity that matches the density of the text, but it is the very skill of the company that reveals the play’s ultimate weakness. This is a rare example of a playwright who needs to add more: In its current 70-minute incarnation, the characters and plot are revealed too quickly with so little development, there are few surprises besides a rather unconvincing melodramatic finale. The moral is spun by the Zenlike Victor in the first few moments, and the rest is quick and interesting, but it’s not a particularly suspenseful flight toward an outcome that’s evident almost from the start. Ruby Theatre at The Complex, 6476 Santa Monica Blvd., Hollywood.; Thurs.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun 7 p.m.; through Dec 21. (323)-960-7863 or www.plays411.com/arrozconpollo. (Tom Provenzano)

My Trip Down the Pink Carpet

Corbettt Barklie

Ken Roht’s 99 c Only Calendar Girl Competition

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A CHICAGO CHRISTMAS CAROL William A. Reilly and Gary Lamb have transplanted Charles Dickens’ tale to Upton Sinclair’s Chicago in a quasi-Brechtian musical take on the Christmas favorite. There are, of course, slight changes in characterization: “Tiny” Tim Cratchit (Malek Hanna) is now a union organizer at Fezziwig’s Meats, where his father, Bob (Lamb), is trying to preserve his job in a bad economy (one of many parallels to our current business climate). Instead, the role of the lovable waif goes to a Christina Jessup (Shannon Lamb), who, with her mother, is made homeless by the unfeeling Scrooge (Michael Vodde) at the story’s outset. The rest of the events unfold in a more familiar Dickensian fashion, while set to Reilly’s music. Unfortunately, director-choreographer Tam Warner creates a strange hybrid between Verfremdungseffekt and emotional realism, giving the play a presentational feel that at times resembles a Christmas pageant. Dean Cameron’s gritty, versatile set and Caitlin Erin O’Hare’s colorful costumes provide visual appeal, and a number of the players have pleasant voices, most notably Tara Brown, who plays Scrooge’s erstwhile love, Isabella Fezziwig. Despite the feel-good ending, due solely to the happy resolution of Christina’s tragedy (and Shannon Lamb’s cute looks), the emotional heart of the show is missing, making us wonder if Scrooge’s transformation was really the dream. Crown City Theater, 11031 Camarillo St., North Hollywood; Fri.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 2 & 7 p.m.; through December 21. (818) 377-4055. (Mayank Keshaviah)

I LOVE MY WIFE Cy Coleman’s 1977 wife-swapping musical feels almost as if it’s been steeped in amber, providing a portal back to a pre-AIDS era of swingin’ and sexual rebellion. Burly Alvin (Jason Alexander) flunks a “How Repressed Are You?” test in an issue of Cosmo and realizes he needs to pep up his sex life. His solution is to plot a ménage à trois with himself, his wife, Cleo (Vicki Lewis), and Monica (Lea Thompson), the wife of his free-loving best pal, publicist Wally (Patrick Cassidy). Unfortunately for Alvin, Cleo misinterprets the plans and assumes the party is going to be between her, Alvin and Wally. Complications ensue when the four best friends meet on Christmas Eve to consummate their misbegotten four-way. Ho ho ho, indeed. Director Larry Moss’ splendid production of Coleman’s odd musical boasts unusually deft and focused comic timing, much of it the result of the agreeably neurotic interplay between Alexander’s Alvin and Lewis’ Cleo, which strongly puts one in mind of Woody Allen’s Annie Hall. Michael Skloff’s upbeat musical direction is just as tightly assured and winning, particularly during the unexpectedly heartfelt finale, a tribute to true love. The show’s faults are ultimately those of the original musical. The incidents of undercover naked Kama Sutra poses and hashish smoking fit oddly with Coleman and lyricist Michael Stewart’s traditional belt-and-ballad show tunes — and the music itself has an incongruently fusty feel. Brentwood Theatre on the Veterans Administration grounds, 11301 Wilshire Blvd., Brentwood; Tues.-Fri., 8 p.m.; Sat., 2 & 8 p.m.; Sun., 2 & 7 p.m.; through December 14. (213) 365-3500. A Reprise Theatre Company production. (Paul Birchall)

GO A GRAND GUIGNOL CHILDREN’S SHOW “Not for children” says the program’s subhead — and they’re not kidding. Tapping the same root used by Shockheaded Peter, writer-director Debbie McMahon takes the scariest fairy tales in the world, and draws both their violence and latent eroticism through a vivacious and rude entertainment that’s part–French vaudeville and part–British Punch and Judy puppet show. Not meaning to be overly literal, but there was some vagueness as to the era: The production is framed as a touring show, circa 1930, while, at the same time, being a birthday party for Monsieur Guignol, who turns 200 this year. So Puppets Punch and Guignol perch in their wooden booth looking down on their human replicas, as four fairy tales are played with song and dance, with Chris Bell’s set (sheet backdrops, mostly) and puppets, Jeanne Simpson’s charmingly goofy choreography and Matt Richter’s deliberately rambling lighting design. “Little Red Riding Hood” is a cross between a snuff tale and pedophile’s wet dream, as Ms. Hood (Hannah Chodos) removes her red bonnet (revealing pigtails, of course) before stripping down for the Wolf (Gary Karp), languishing in the bed of Grandma (Vanessa Forster), whom he’s just eaten. (There may have been a reference to her being eaten out; at least that joke was made about somebody.) The ensuing carnage shows poor Little Red with an alarmed facial expression, as her bloodied intestines are strewn from her midsection around the stage. “The Ugly Ducking” is a lovely and considerably more benign costume parade about family and tribes. “Rapunzel” is an R-rated production with finger puppets, while “Hansel and Gretel” turns into an impressively disturbing saga of cannibalism, coming from the same country that put a millions of people into ovens. Though the sophomoric Punch/Guignol repartee grows tiring, and the dramatic beats within the fairy tales need paring, there’s no denying how the lurid morbidity of the event sneaks up on you. And when the witch, opening her oven, tells Hansel and Gretel, “You thought the famine hasn’t come to my house!” the tingles up the spine run hot and cold. Art/Works Theatre, 6569 Santa Monica Blvd., Hollywood; Fri.-Sat., 8:30 p.m. (added perf Dec. 18; no perfs Dec. 26 & Jan. 1); through January 10. (323) 871-1912 or www.brownpapertickets.com. (Steven Leigh Morris)