THE BAKER'S OVEN The softly Southern lilt of the imploring, impassioned pastor's voice sermonizing on patriotism playing as preshow background music is the red flag. Well, that, juxtaposed with the jarring opening scene, in which a dark electro-rave song slaps the audience while a little girl spanks her knockoff Barbie doll until its legs fly off. Anachronistic, that toy, considering the play's setting is the Great Depression, and Mattel didn't launch Barbie dolls until the late '50s. But in light of the lurid action that follows, that's a negligible quibble. As playwright Christopher Goodwin unleashes one monstrous act of human nature after yet another, you almost laugh at the utter absurdity of the plot and its evil mastermind, the charred-and-shriveled-hearted Roy Baker (Jim Eshom); and you begin to wonder if Goodwin's a 21-year-old theater major who (mis)read Bret Easton Ellis' American Psycho too many times before writing and mounting his first play in the college's "experimental" theatre. He's not. And though theater majors might congregate at a coffee shop afterward to discuss the symbolism of such unnecessary blanket violence (the U.S.'s history of military invasions seems a likely and politically correct response) and sexual abuse (organized religion, ditto), searching for meaning in this quasi-Greek tragedy of a play is as fruitless and confusing as its ludicrous final scene. Lila Green directs. Zombie Joe's Underground Theatre Group, 4850 Lankershim Blvd., N. Hlywd.; Fri.-Sat., 8:30 p.m.; through August 7. (818) 202-4120 (Rebecca Haithcoat)
GO BEDROOM FARCE The title is apt, since the action occurs in three radically different bedrooms in a 1975 English suburb. Kate (blond and taffy-voiced Kate Hollinshead) and Malcolm (buff and playful Jamie Donovan) are having a party in their new flat. Nick (Scott Roberts) and Jan (Ann Noble) are invited, but Nick has put his back out and is confined to his bed in agony — and he's annoyed that Jan is going to the party without him. Obstreperous and self-obsessed Trevor (Anthony Michael Jones) and his noisily neurotic wife, Susannah (Regina Peluso), are also invited, but their tempestuous marriage is rocked by one of its endless crises. When Trevor makes a pass at former girlfriend Jan, Susannah goes into massive hysterics, wrecking the party. Trevor descends on bedridden Nick to "explain" his behavior, while Susannah runs to Trevor's bemused parents, Ernest (Robert Mandan) and Delia (Maggie Peach), for solace. Alan Ayckbourn's play plumbs no great depths, but he's unflaggingly inventive in exploring comic surfaces, and director Ron Bottitta has assembled a likable and deftly stylish cast to keep the pot boiling on Darcy Prevost's huge and handsome set. Kathryn Poppen's trendy '70s costumes add further charm. Odyssey Theatre Ensemble, 2055 S. Sepulveda Blvd., W.L.A.; variable schedule, through September 26. Call theatre for info: (310) 477-2055, odysseytheatre.com. (Neal Weaver)
PHOTO BY SCOTT GROLLER
Brewsie & Willie
GO BREWSIE AND WILLIE If the name Gertrude Stein isn't enough of a clue to not expect your average, well-made play, just walk into the seventh floor, downtown-penthouse performance space of this mesmerizing production by CalArts' Center for New Performance and L.A. stage experimentalists, Poor Dog Group. That's where Jesse Bonnell, John Kern and Jeffrey Elias Teeter's video projections of the surrounding cityscape create the uncanny effect that Efren Delgadillo Jr.'s combat-detritus set is perched high upon a vertiginous, open-air promontory. Such lofty, if illusory, heights provide an apt metaphor for the elevated discourse of Stein's lucidly conversational, postwar novella and its all-too-prophetic admonition against the political and intellectual conformity awaiting America's returning WWII GIs. Set during the limbo period between the end of the war and demobilization, director Travis Preston and writers Marissa Chibas and Erik Ehn's elegant adaptation follows the fears, gripes, prejudices and dreams of Stein's archetypal cross section of soldiers and military nurses as they pass the time fraternizing and musing about their uncertain futures. Brewsie (Jonney Ahmanson), a thoughtful sergeant "foggy in the head" but who wants "to be clear," provokes a probing dialogue with his fellow dogface, the voluble Willie (a dynamic Brad Culver), which soon includes their less reflective comrades. As the inarticulate men and women struggle to find words for their thoughts, Stein's apprehensions about parallels between the regimented thinking demanded by the Nazi's military-industrialism and those invited by our own consumer-industrial society are gradually given voice. Preston's vibrantly inventive direction of a first-rate ensemble, plus some additional, authentic ambience provided by circling LAPD helicopters, together suggest that any similarity between Stein's fears and the straits in which we find ourselves today is strictly intentional. 7th Floor Penthouse, 533 S. Los Angeles St., dwntwn.; Wed.-Sun., 8 p.m.; through Aug. 1, brownpapertickets.com. A CalArts' Center for New Performance in association with Poor Dog Group production. (Bill Raden)
GO JAYBIRD AND HALLELUJAH Writer-director Pel Tedder's comedy-drama promises to change the way you think about life, death and the afterlife. Perhaps it will. A bit like an upbeat No Exit on wheels, Tedder's stories concern a handful of unhappy souls riding a bus through purgatory on New Year's Eve. They need to make it to the intersection of Jaybird and Hallelujah in order to cross over to Heaven, but unseen rioters threaten to lock them in limbo. As personal tales are revealed, we are drawn into their torment and recriminations. The flaring temper of an aggressive and sexually charged jock-type Willie (Eric Goldrich) is kept at bay by his adoring girlfriend, Adriana (Sarah Delpizzo), reminding him of the power of positive thinking. We soon learn why he's there, but her presence in purgatory is more mysterious. One smooth-talking character, Swamp Rat (Greg L. Grass) has the colorful and musical vocal delivery of a preacher. There are some beautiful and touching moments in this fine play. Flashes of comedy are underpinned by its serious theme. Don't expect sets or costumes — this production runs on the smell of an oily rag, sustained by the power of Tedder's nicely modulated writing and some convincing performances. Most nights The Ukomo Theatre Project presents the same play with two different casts, interpretations and strikingly different endings. It's an ambitious attempt and worth the effort. Subtitled "The Redemption" and "The Salvation," the versions perform in repertory. NoHo Actors Studios, 5215 Lankershim Blvd., N.Hlywd.; Sat., 9:15 p.m.; through Aug. 7, ukomoproject@live.com. (818) 761-2166. Ukomo Theatre Project (Pauline Adamek)
