Theater Reviews: The Confusion of My Illusion, The Psychic, Sweet Sue

Also, No-No Boy, The Wake, Lascivious Something and more

Comments (0) By L.A. Weekly Theater Critics Thursday, Apr 1 2010

THE BLUE ROOM "I think men talk to women so they can sleep with them," Jay McInerney wrote in Brightness Falls, "and women sleep with men so they can talk with them." In director Elina de Santos' production of The Blue Room, David Hare's version of this sexual merry-go-round, what should be a hypnotic swirl offers instead the slight chill of dead energy between actors Christina Dow and Christian S. Anderson. That could be perceived as a fault, but you hope it's a conscious choice — a variation on a theme, the opposite tactic taken in Closer, fellow Brit Patrick Marber's highly flammable play that debuted just a year before Hare's. Or maybe we've run around this particular playground so often, we're bored with it: This is, after all, an adaptation of Arthur Schnitzler's 1900 play, Reigen. As beds rotate, the handful of characters Dow and Anderson each play blur into their aptly named singulars ("The Woman," "The Man"). Here and there a line emerges like a cry of exhilaration, or fear, from the speed; it's hard to tell the difference sometimes. "I'm fuckin' a married woman!" shouts Anderson as a jittery student (duration of copulation: 0 minutes). The almost impenetrable barrier between the sexes is fortified most noticeably by class, which makes the decision to break the theatrical fourth wall — and by whom — the most thought-provoking moment of the production. Original music by Arthur Loves Plastic is noteworthy. Odyssey Theatre, 2055 Sepulveda Blvd., L.A.; Thurs.-Sun., 8 p.m.; Sun., 2 p.m.; through May 2. (310) 477-2055. Presented by Solocat Productions. (Rebecca Haithcoat)

PHOTO BY DAWID JAWORSKI

Lascivious Something at [Inside] the Ford

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BUFFALO HOLE Robert Reichel Jr.'s Gothic saga offers an unlikely blend of Sam Shepard, absurdist black comedy, Grand Guignol and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Hard-drinking ex-Marine Patton Strong (Peter Gannon), who won a Congressional Medal of Honor during Desert Shield, suffered verbal abuse from his father and treats his own sons, Braggert (writer Reichel) and Jessop (Eric Bloom), much the same. He raises dogs for sale — or for eating, earning animal-loving Braggert's vicious enmity. When Patton wins the lottery, Braggert takes him prisoner, strings him up by his feet, steals his winnings and amputates his ear and some toes. Intending to kill his old man, he summons the scattered family, including sissy Jessop and sister Sara (Maury Morgan) to say farewell. Their 60-year-old mother, Eva (Suzanne Voss), turns up mysteriously pregnant, claiming immaculate conception. If it sometimes seems that Reichel has assembled as many improbable elements as possible, neglecting to shape them into a credible, coherent whole, Zeke Rettman provides impeccable direction while an able cast acts the piece with demented zest on Danny Cistone's cluttered, ramshackle house-trailer set. Arena Stage at Theatre of Arts, 1625 N. Las Palmas Ave., Hlywd.; Thurs.-Sat., 8 p.m., through May 1. (323) 960-4443, plays411.com/buffalohole. Produced by Living Edge Theatreworks and the Red Bark Corp. (Neal Weaver)

GO THE CONFUSION OF MY ILLUSION Gender-bending performer and transgender activist Kelly Mantle grew up in a small Oklahoma town, where he learned that even the most egregious trespass of community mores can be forgiven if committed "in the name of Jesus." Mixing politics, fantasy and personal reminiscence, Mantle's entertaining show presents sketches and original songs that lay out what it takes to survive — with one's sanity intact — in an unforgiving xenophobic world. As directed by Jon Imparato, the opening segment features Mantle as Eve: Perched on a faintly glimmering staircase, in floral wreath and gauzy garment, he hails the social revolution to come (while clarifying for right-wing Christian zealots how "in the beginning" it really was Adam and Steve). Subsequent segments include a video of the performer interviewed as his mom; his typecasting experiences as an actor in Hollywood (not another trannie-prostitute role!); and his real-live (!) meeting with George W. Bush — on an occasion honoring his uncle, Mickey Mantle — in which he weighs the yeas and nays of an impassioned confrontation. Along with the music and the humor are thoughtful ruminations about what it's like to live as both man and woman, and exactly what inside human beings propels some of us into fantasies of victimhood. Backup vocalists Lawrencia Dandridge and Miss Barbie Q add icing to the camp; video director Andy Putschoegl's videography, incorporating designer Allison Moon's psychedelic images, expands the spectacle. Davidson/Valentini Theatre, L.A. Gay & Lesbian Center, 1125 N. McCadden Pl., Hlywd.; Fri.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 7 p.m.; through April 11. (323) 860-7300. (Deborah Klugman)

GO LASCIVIOUS SOMETHING "Things often burst," intones a radio newscaster in the premiere of playwright Sheila Callaghan's simmering symbolist melodrama. That line could refer to the dream of a more equitable, progressive society that exploded with the 1980 presidential election of Ronald Reagan, the play's historical backdrop. It could represent one of the bottles of new wine in the cellars of former activist–turned-winemaker August (Silas Weir Mitchell). Or it could hint at the decadent, Dionysian fantasy August is living out with his sensual young Greek wife, Daphne (the fine Olivia Henry), on their isolated Mediterranean-island retreat. That his solipsistic existence is built on the somewhat shaky foundation of a carefully buried past is suggested both by the cache of discarded wine bottles revealed just beneath the surface of designer Sibyl Wickersheimer's cutaway hilltop set and in the ease with which August's fragile complacency is shattered by the appearance of ex–compatriot/true love Liza (a feverish Alina Phelan), who is intent on rekindling their former passion. Callaghan, whose previous work might be described as post-feminist punk incursions into the poetic turf of early Sam Shepard, here employs a more linear narrative line to push her personal-is-political agenda. Mitchell delivers a forceful performance as an erstwhile idealist wrenched from his refuge of illusions by a crushing self-knowledge. But the real fireworks are in the two women's predatory tug o' war that plays like a Western showdown. Director Paul Willis expertly torques the proceedings to their high-tension dénouement, while Tom Ontiveros' subtle lights and John Zalewski's rumbling sound effectively accent Callaghan's incisive language. [Inside] the Ford, 2580 Cahuenga Blvd. East, L.A.; Thurs.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 2 & 7 p.m.; through May 1. (323) 461-3673. A Circle X Theatre Company production. (Bill Raden)