Theater Reviews: The True Story of Jack and the Beanstalk, They Call Me Mister Fry, Bones

Also Streep Tease: An Evening of Meryl Streep Monologues and more

Comments (0) By L.A. Weekly Theater Critics Thursday, Aug 5 2010

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SHAKE A man named Bill (Jo Egender) and his ex, Peggy (Alina Phelan), stand eight uneasy feet apart after a chance encounter in a park. She's homeless; he's a lapsed alcoholic. What turned their love upside-down? Joshua Fardon's chronological play ticks backward every month for a year, from August 2002 to September 10, 2001, and unpacks the affairs and betrayals and guilts sprung from strangers named Matt (Troy Blendell), Julia (Michelle Gardner) and Robin (Bridgette Campbell). The mystery comes in the reverse momentum. Told forward, it's a soap opera — going back, a parlor game. We know this drama traces back to the fall of the towers, but when we get there, we realize Bill and Peggy's relationship was already headed to destruction — 9/11 simply changed the route. More catastrophic is the entrance of Claire (Hiwa Bourne), a femme fatale who uses the disaster for her own ends, though even she, too, is scrabbling for a purpose. Kiff Scholl's direction knows that with every scene, the characters know less and hope more. Under his guidance, Phelan's New York naif is especially heartbreaking. She's a girl with simple dreams, and within the year, even those are impossibly far away. Theatre of NOTE, 1517 N. Cahuenga Blvd., Hlywd.; Fri.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 7 p.m.; through September 5. (323) 856-8611. (Amy Nicholson)

GO STREEP TEASE: AN EVENING OF MERYL STREEP MONOLOGUES"Meryl Streep, gay icon?" I asked Google. She's no Judy Garland, but enough affirmative results returned that, when considered alongside creator Roy Cruz's all-male review of some of Streep's finest screen scenes, she seems well on her way. In her roles, she's checked off, among others, driven activist, "guilty-until-proven-innocent" outsider, and frost-bitten bitch. In her "real" life, she's eschewed ascribing to Hollywood's rigid standards of beauty, becoming successful on her own terms. Cruz and director Ezra Weisz have constructed a well-structured, tight show that's over almost before you want it to be, even though the theater is stuffy to the point of sweaty (further proof of their sense of humor — hand-held fans emblazoned with Streep's face are given as trivia prizes). In case you lack an "inner Streep," Cruz prefaces each monologue with a synopsis of the movie. Mimicking the Academy Awards' setup, a swell of music sweeps the performer down the aisle and up the stage, and he poses dramatically as the lights fade. Since the cast chose their own pieces, they're all well reenacted; naming a favorite is really more about your own favorite "Meryl moment." That said, Trent Walker's scene from Silkwood is white-trashtastic; and Taylor Negron's from Sophie's Choice coalesces the audience into one being, collectively holding our breaths and back our tears. The show's great affection for the un-diva is best revealed in its gentle ribbing, though: Mike Rose's re-creation of a scene from The River Wild should be included if Ms. Streep ever gets a roast. BANG, 457 Fairfax Ave., L.A.; Sat., 8 p.m., Sun., 7:30 p.m.; through August 29. (323) 653-6886. (Rebecca Haithcoat)

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STRIPPED (A COMEDY ABOUT A DRAMA) Who'd have guessed that the gaudy neon sign around the corner advertising Psychic Readings could be hiding a theater. There is indeed a tiny space upstairs for storytelling that is probably more real that the storytelling going on downstairs. In this case, the story is Kirsten Severson's tale of the tumultuous end to her five-year relationship with "The Prince." Accompanied onstage by two video screens, Severson describes the good times in their relationship (including the clever "Peas in a Pod" video montage) before transitioning to the fateful voice mail that begins her descent into insecurity and heartbreak. Originally a solo show titled ... I Think You Went a Little Far With the Herpes Thing ..., the piece has since been developed into a feature film, and now returns as a half-film/half-staged solo show. The combination of media unfortunately doesn't gel, and despite some good lines and moments, director Carlos Velasco's pacing drags in a number of spots and Severson's stage presence feels halfhearted at times. Instead the video sequences — which are well lit and crisply edited — are the show's most engaging aspect. As a short film it could prove visually arresting; as a piece of theater, however, it's little more than another love story gone awry. Psychic Visions Theatre, 3447 Motor Ave., West L.A.; Fri., 8:30 p.m.; through August 27. (310) 535-6007. psychicvisionstheatre.com A Roadkill Productions Production. (Mayank Keshaviah)

GO THEY CALL ME MISTER FRY With charismatic comic timing, droll impersonation skills, and a boisterous stage persona that occasionally brings to mind the outlandishness of Robin Williams, writer-performer Jack Freiberger, in his solo show, glibly traipses through the tale of his first year as a fifth grade teacher in a dangerous and crime-riddled "No Child Left Behind" elementary school somewhere in South Los Angeles. Fry is the perfect teacher we all wish we'd had when we were young: avuncular, personable and just a little bit dorky, with an educational philosophy that's motivated by a useful mix of idealism and pragmatism. Fry's tale, admittedly, hews to traditional and somewhat predictable series of "public school" tale tropes — he is offered a job at the South Central school, where he at first feels completely lost in the world of violent teens in a dead-end school. Yet, he gradually finds his way, even with his most troubled students. Throughout the tale, Freiberger plays himself, but he also assays all the other characters: his students, a burly, take-no-prisoners principal, and the prune-faced state educational commissioner who takes umbrage over Fry's use of a balloon sword in class. Although the pacing of director Jeff Michaelski's intimate production sags toward the end, Freiberger himself is consistently charming, holding our attention through anecdotes both touching and funny. Even when some of the piece's scenes seep into melodrama, he holds our attention effortlessly, proof that being a good teacher and being a good actor are by no means mutually exclusive. Asylum Theater, 6322 Santa Monica Blvd., Hlywd.; Sat., Aug. 7, 3 p.m. (800) 838-3006. (Paul Birchall)