Theater Reviews: Bruising for Besos, Dracula, Burn This

GO  BRUISING FOR BESOS In Spanish besos means kisses, but getting them in Yolanda Villamontes’ family should come with combat pay. With a philandering father who alternately abuses and romances her emotionally fragile mother, Yolanda (writer-performer Adelina Anthony) develops a distorted view of love, which clouds her relationships, most especially with her mom. Now as an adult on a sojourn from L.A. to visit her sick mother in San Antonio, Yolanda is marooned by a busted radiator on a Texas highway and flashes back to memories of her hardscrabble childhood, her budding attraction to women, and the struggle for her and her mother to accept one another. Anthony’s solo performance chronicles a tale of dysfunction with uproarious humor and heartfelt gravity, deftly balancing both and delivering a riveting work. Under Rose Marcario’s sturdy direction, Anthony effortlessly embodies a host of characters, from Yolanda’s strutting father and precocious siblings to her sexually confused high school peer, from a fiery Puerto Rican lover to a mother aching from a love-hate relationship. Designer Robert Selander’s set, centered on a Ford Mustang grill and car hood made of bleached bones, and John Pedrone’s evocative lighting design, combine well with Anthony’s journey of self-discovery. The Davidson/Valenti Theatre at the L.A. Gay & Lesbian Center, 1125 N. McCadden Place, Hollywood; Fri.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 7 p.m.; through March 15. (323) 860-7300. (Martín Hernández)

BURN THIS Lanford Wilson’s drama about four New Yorkers and a funeral is a slippery portrait of love and loss. Staged with a warm cast, it’s flush with hope; just as easily, though, a more aloof ensemble can flip it into a play about emotional isolation, where the polite relationship between Anna (Marisa Petroro) and perfect-on-paper boyfriend Burton (Jonathan Blandino) casts a cold shadow across all dynamics, making her devotion to callously funny roommate Larry (Aaron Misakian) and temperamental lover Pale (a wrenching and infuriating Dominic Comperatore) seem nearly like pathological self-punishment. Director John Ruskin sees this as a love story — the scene breaks twinkle with sentimental music — yet his cast isn’t up to it and hasn’t even been instructed to at least pretend to be listening to each other. (Burton’s confession of a random blowjob from a strange man rolls off Anna like he was droning on about the weather.) Comperatore’s combustible Pale has four times the spark of the rest of the ensemble — when he bursts into the scene, we see the gulf between what Wilson’s play could be and what this staging actually is. Ruskin Group Theater, 3000 Airport Drive, Santa Monica; Fri.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 2 p.m.; through March 22. (310) 397-3244. (Amy Nicholson)

THEATER PICK  DRACULA  Director Ken Sawyer, who recently helmed the delightful Lovelace: A Rock Opera at the Hayworth, scores again with this stylish production of Bram Stoker’s Dracula, smartly adapted by Hamilton Deane and John L. Balderston. Robert Arbogast is splendid as the creepy count, first seen rising from his grave to put the bite on the lovely Mina (Mara Marini), upon his arrival in England. When Lucy Seward (Darcy Jo Martin) contracts a mysterious illness, her mother, Lily (Karesa McElheny), who runs an asylum, enlists the expertise of Abraham Van Helsing (Joe Hart) to find a cure. Thrown into the mix are Lucy’s betrothed, Jonathan Harker (J.R. Mangels), and the mad, bug-eating Renfield (Alex Robert Holmes). This one’s all about atmosphere. Desma Murphy’s alluring set design is cleverly accented by an enormous backdrop of an incubus sitting on a sleeping woman, inspired by Henry Fuseli’s painting The Nightmare, and Luke Moyer’s chiaroscuro lighting schema is perfectly conceived to enhance the atmospheric richness of the piece. Sawyer utilizes an arsenal of haunted-house special effects, including lots of rolling fog and wolf howls, but they never come across as cheesy or overdone; indeed, there are a few scary moments during this 90-minute show, relieved by well-placed humor. NoHo Arts Center, 11136 Magnolia Blvd.; N. Hlwyd.; Fri.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 3 p.m.; through March 22. (818) 508-7101.  (Lovell Estell III)

THE GRADUATE British playwright Terry Johnson’s fatuous adaptation of Mike Nichols’ 1967 film and Charles Webb’s novel might have garnered laughs had it been played as a satire. No such luck, I’m afraid. Featuring the Mrs. Robinson character in the buff (the producers raked it in when Kathleen Turner played the role in London and New York), Johnson’s illogical script rips off highlights from the film and juxtaposes them with additional plot points: a drunken tête-à-tête between Elaine (Michele Exarhos) and Mrs. Robinson (Kelly Lloyd), a visit by Benjamin (Ben Campbell) and his parents (Jerry Lloyd and Cindy Yantis) to a psychotherapist, a strip-bar sequence with a topless dancer falling into Elaine’s lap, and a redo of the wedding scene at the end, with Mr. Robinson (Jim Keily) going after Benjamin with a bat. None of these inanities would matter quite so much if Johnson hadn’t also stripped the story of all wit, depth and meaningful social commentary. Directed with little insight by Jules Aaron, the performances range from cartoonish and earnest to an off-putting mixture of both. To be fair, it’s difficult to deliver an ultimate rendering given the dreadful material. As the predatory siren, Lloyd might have fit nicely into a well-calibrated farce. Costume designer Shon LeBLanc mysteriously makes Elaine look as dowdy as possible; nor do his designs flatter Mrs. Robinson. Set designer Stephen Gifford’s drab, functional wood-paneled backdrop underscores this essentially lifeless effort. El Centro Theatre, 804 N. El Centro Ave., Hollywood; Fri.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 3 p.m.; through April 5. (323) 460-4443. (Deborah Klugman)