Theater Reviews: Cymbeline, Oleanna, The Little Foxes

GO  CYMBELINE What might Shakespeare have written if he’d been asked by some 17th-century counterpart of a TV producer to come up with something quick, hot and flashy? It’s likely an extravagantly plotted comedy like this one, with story ideas snatched from legend, his peers and some of his own better-developed and more sublime works. Regarded today as one of Shakespeare’s more minor plays, this comedy revolves around a king’s daughter named Imogen (Willow Geer), banished from court by her father, Cymbeline (Thad Geer), for daring to marry the man of her choice. The plucky gal’s travails intensify when a villain named Iachimo (Aaron Hendry, alternating with Steve Matt) decides willy-nilly to slander her to her husband Posthumus (Mike Peebler), who then commands a servant to assassinate her for her alleged infidelity. Her wanderings eventually land her on the doorstep of her father’s old enemy, Belarius (Earnestine Phillips), who has raised two of Cymbeline’s children (thus Imogen’s own siblings) as her own. Director Ellen Geer has fashioned an appealing production laced with an aptly measured dose of spectacle and camp. At its core is Willow Geer’s strong and likable princess. As her adoring and, later, raging, jealous spouse, Peebler’s Posthumus is earnestly on the mark, while Jeff Wiesen garners deserved laughs as the foppish suitor she’d rejected. The latter meets his end at the hands of the princess’ newfound brother, well-played by Matt Ducati. Will Geer Theatricum Botanicum, 1419 N. Topanga Canyon Blvd., Topanga; Sun., 3:30 p.m.; thru Sept. 27. (310) 455-3723. (Deborah Klugman)

ECSTASY: THE MUSICAL What’s this? A musical based on the notorious hallucinogenic drug whose psychoactive effects include lust and a strong sense of inner peace? Well, not quite. At times, we suspect that the dreamlike mood of S. Claus’ downright strange musical comedy is an attempt to convey what it’s like to partake of the drug. Yet, Claus’ work is also a cheerful 1970s kitsch-fest, set in a world of flaring bellbottoms, John Travolta–esque disco suits and untroubled hedonism. College freshman Angel (Lisa Marinacci) loves her virgin boyfriend Tom (Meyer deLeeuw), but she can’t make him sexually “close the deal” with her. Somehow, Angel magically transports Tom to an alternate universe called the Land of Ecstasy, where Tom’s path crosses that of a wickedly sexy Black Widow Woman (Gina D’Acciaro, whose gorgeous, rock-ballad voice is outstanding), a sex-crazed prostitute (Dina Buglione), and a genial space alien (Patrick Hancock). Claus’ upbeat score isn’t deep, but the work boasts some quick-witted lyrics and some zippy tunes, particularly during the larger production numbers. Director Kay Cole’s energetic staging, which is layered with Day-Glo 1970s iconography and Susanne Klein’s wonderfully tacky leisure-suit costumes, is offbeat and gleefully campy. Sadly, though, the show’s narrative structure lurches from half-baked subplot to subplot — less dreamlike than sloppy. Sometimes the play seems like a joke told by someone on a drug — funny, but only if you’re the stoned guy telling it. Still, some of the cast’s gorgeous voices are clearly more evocative than the flimsy material allows them to show. Buglione’s bubbly Sally Bowles–like turn as the prostitute is delightful — and so is Hancock’s toothy, yet sexually androgynous turn as the space alien. Art/Works Theater, 6569 Santa Monica Blvd., Hollywood; Fri.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 3 p.m.; through July 12. (323) 960-7789. A Theatre Planners production. (Paul Birchall)

Michael Lamont

Ectasy, the Musical

Dan Bonnell

Love Water

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• Lillian Hellman
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GO  THE LITTLE FOXES Lillian Hellman’s 1939 melodrama, set in the South of 1900, studies the voracious appetite for profit by the middle-class Hubbard clan, who look with contempt on both the aristocrats they’ve replaced, and their black employees whom they continue to cheat. And so the drama offers Hellman’s harsh commentary on both the economic and racial foundations of prosperity by those who can afford it, usually at the expense of those who can’t. In addition to his perfectly paced production, director Dámasco Rodriquez also scores points for keeping the repugnant N word that Hellman sprinkles so liberally in the most casual conversations. The plot has a Swiss-watch construction, starting with a visit by William Marshall (Tom Schmid) from Chicago, finalizing a business deal to construct a mill in the small town. Financing would involve contributing shares by three partners: Benjamin Hubbard (Steve Vinovich), his brother Oscar (Marc Singer) — who married and now abuses his aristocratic wife, Birdie (Julia Duffy) — and, finally, the very reluctant Horace Giddens (Geoff Pierson), who has been recuperating for months in Baltimore from a chronic heart condition. Horace’s wife, Regina (Kelly McGillis), is the play’s centerpiece, summoning home her ill husband and engaging in all manner of negotiations, including blackmail against the thieving Hubbards, and against her own husband, in order to grab the most money she can for herself. The play contains some Chekhovian ambiance, such as when Birdie confides that she’s never experienced a happy day in 22 years, and the program notes refer to the drama as one in a series of “great American plays” that the theater has committed to produce. This may be an observant play, but it’s not a great one, as it can’t quite crawl inside the hearts of people it’s too eager to condemn. And that’s the difference between a tragedy and a potboiler. Even McGillis’ fine, emotive performance as Regina, offers the tawdry “survival” excuse for her cold-blooded manipulations. It’s as lame a rationalization as the serial-killer movies that blame the pathology on the killer’s having been abused in childhood. Pierson’s Horace is just grand — tired, wise, yet still on fire to outwit the town’s sundry little foxes. Nice turns also by Yvette Cason and Cleavant Derricks and the servants in residence. As Regina’s coy daughter, Rachel Sondag makes an impressive transformation, from sweetness to defiance, as she slowly figures out what’s going on under her nose. Paradoxically, her kind of moral outrage is also the play’s undoing, serving up more of an editorial, authorial opinion than a vision — an impulse Chekhov, or Tennessee Williams, rarely succumbed to. Gary Wissman’s opulent yet frayed-at-the-edges set shows the beginning of a metaphor but not enough to compensate for the shortcomings of this well-crafted but limited play. Pasadena Playhouse, 39 S. El Molino Ave., Pasadena: Tues.-Fri., 8 p.m.; Sat., 2 & 8 p.m.; Sun., 2 & 7 p.m.; through June 28. (800) 378-7121. (Steven Leigh Morris)