THEATER REVIEWS: THE AUTUMN GARDEN, VON BACH, DIVING NORMAL

ALSO, HEAD: THE MUSICAL, THE AUTUMN GARDEN

Comments (0) By L.A. Weekly Theater Critics Thursday, Nov 4 2010

...continued from page 1

GO THE GOOD PRISONER It's not difficult to draw parallels between the pre-war reminiscences in Kit Steinkellner's world premiere, set in an unspecified time and place somewhat like the United States, and recorded recollections of life in pre-Nazi Germany. White vans loom outside houses, foreshadowing the apparitions the victims will become when they're forced to surrender. Families splinter when one decides if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. Neighbors revert to a "survival of the first" mode, dialing the authorities upon suspicion that someone might be about to drop a dime on them. While the opening scene, in which Paige Lindsey White's guard viciously sneers and straddles the silent, pallid Prisoner (Emmalinda MacLean), sets off an inward alarm ("Not more torture porn," you groan), Steinkellner smartly leaves most of the terror to your imagination. She and director Louise Hung also rely on the audience to be smart; scenes past, present and outside time seem to be shuffled and played as they land, entrusting you to arrange the action mentally. Still, in less capable hands, this could be the kind of cringe-worthy play marked by sequential confusion. But the exceptional ensemble gives up only enough to ensure that you continue to follow the bread trail they leave as they wind you further and further into this tangled forest. What you find when you reach the last crumb is nothing so horrific as the Holocaust, but something that still reminds you that the heart and mind are often at odds; one's just more convincing than the other, and predicting which will win is a losing game. Los Angeles Theatre Ensemble at the Powerhouse Theatre, 3116 Second St., Santa Monica; Thurs.-Sat., 8 p.m., Sun., 7 p.m., Wed., Nov. 10, 8 p.m.; thru Nov. 13. (310) 396-3680. (Rebecca Haithcoat)

GO HEAD: THE MUSICAL Composer-lyricist Kevin Fry's delightfully campy horror musical, based on Roger Corman's 1962 gore-fest The Brain That Wouldn't Die, is not only enjoyable on the level of midnight-theater excess, it's a quick-witted show by any standard. Its catchy score and clever, bloodthirsty lyrics are in the style of Little Shop of Horrors. And how can you not love a musical that features a severed head warbling songs of love and hatred? Beautiful, virginal Jan (Stephanie Ann Saunders) is administering fellatio to her boyfriend, Bill (Charles St. Michael), in the front seat of their car as they speed through the woods — an ill-advised, foolhardy act they soon have reason to regret as, in the ensuing car crash, Jan's head is chopped off. Not to worry, though: Bill, it turns out, is a mad scientist and has invented a formula that will keep Jan's head alive until he can find a new body onto which to transplant it. While Bill runs off to scour the strip clubs for a suitable albeit unwilling donor, Jan is left hooked up to a table, singing the blues. If the sight of a severed head dangling by its jaws from a man's manhood isn't enough to make you howl, then the image of Saunders' strangely seductive Jan, her head on a table, singing a love song to the hideous Franken-monster (Chance Havens) Bill keeps locked in the closet, will do the trick. In director L. Flint Esquerra's taut production, the ensemble assay their silly characters with glee and conviction. Fry's musical style strives for '50s doo-wop, but his comic instincts are comparatively timeless, evident in lyrics such as, "He will find you a new hottie/Chop off her head and give you her body!" Under music director Robert Shaw's helm, the ensemble's vocal work is top-notch, with droll performances that are equal parts operatic and cheesy. In addition to Saunders' perky yet monstrous Jan, particularly sprightly turns are offered by St. Michael's spooky, intense mad scientist and by Becca Battoe and Fiona Bates, playing ill-fated women of ill repute, one of whom comes to grief at Bill's hands. St. Michael, in particular, has a memorably evocative falsetto: perfectly in tune, but edged with a fierce madness that puts one in mind of Riff Raff from The Rocky Horror Picture Show. Met Theatre, 1089 Oxford St., Hlywd; Fri., 9 p.m., Sat., 8 and 10:30 p.m.; thru Dec. 12. (323) 960-5770. (Paul Birchall)

Fairies With Children

More About

LOVE AND OTHER ALLERGIES Written by Michelle Kholos Brooks, this medley of one-acts serves as a showcase for both the writer and the 12-member acting ensemble, with mixed results. "Preschool," directed by D. Ewing Woodruff, displays the keenest satiric edge (think Jules Feiffer) and the most well-calibrated performances; in it, the mother (Beth Nintzel) of a 4-year-old finds herself in conference with officious school administrators (Jeff Blumberg and Katharine Phillips Moser, both razor-sharp), where she's chillingly informed that her macaroni-and-cheese-disdaining child does not fit in. "Allergic to Walnuts," directed by Steve Oreste, is the most endearing segment. Infused with absurdity along the lines of Beckett or Ionesco, it involves an elderly duo (Robert Stephen Ryan and Rosemary Stevens), each an odd and reclusive character, as they timorously discuss their developing romance. "Bars," directed by Ryan, features the evening's most notable performance: Leila Arias as Rosie, a bubbly, clueless gal who visits an incarcerated-for-life serial killer (Kurt A. Boesen) with the aim of having him as a boyfriend and perhaps the father of her child. The script, resembling an overwritten comedy sketch, overreaches, but Arias' charm and skill allow her to transcend the cliché. "Cab," directed by Oreste, derives its off-and-on humor from the cultural clash between a Middle Eastern cab driver (Avner Garbi) and a professional American woman (Lisa Glass) with an overblown sense of entitlement. The shtick-laden "Allergy Shot," directed by Garbi, is set in a medical clinic and concerns the encounter between a young actress (Cassandra Sanchez-Navarro) and an older woman (Eve Sigall) who insists on offering the young woman unsolicited advice about her career. Lounge Theater, 6201 Santa Monica Blvd., Hlywd.; Fri-Sat. 8 p.m., Sun., 7 p.m.; thru Nov. 21. (323) 960-5772; Plays411.com/allergies (Deborah Klugman)