CROOKED ROAD Few choices were available to respectable British women in the early 19th century. In Jane Austen's 1816 novel Persuasion, a 27- year-old unmarried woman — considered over the hill by the standards of that time — struggles to come to terms with the decades of humiliating spinsterhood that seemingly stretch before her. Erin Gaw's soap-operatic adaptation, in South Los Angeles, revolves around Anne (Kristal Adams), who works in her dad's real estate business and once upon a time gave up the love of her life to care for her ailing mom, now deceased. Anne's organizational skills and common sense are grossly unappreciated by her spendthrift father (Kabin Thomas), who regularly insults her; he much prefers her shallow sister, Mary (Kelicea Meadows), who bitchily flaunts her own married status before her more mature and stoical sibling. Commencing from this almost Dickensian juxtaposition of virtue and cruelty, the play plods along for a merciless three hours (the first two without an intermission), padded with commonplace dialogue, unremarkable songs and unnecessary characters. Details of staging are carelessly handled under Naisa Wong's direction; for example, in a packing scene, characters unpack, then repack, the same items. The ensemble strives earnestly, but its collective inexperience is unmistakable. Loneliness and longing surely continue to beset many unattached women, but the issues involved are ill-served when observed through a jejune periscope such as this one. Lost Studio, 130 S. La Brea Ave., Mid-City; Fri.-Sat., 8 p.m., Sun., 2 & 7 p.m., thru March 27. (323) 871-5830. (Deborah Klugman)
GO THE ECCENTRICITIES OF A NIGHTINGALE It's New Year's Eve in Tennessee Williams' drama, and Alma Winemiller is enchanted by the crisp snaps of "frosty branches crackin'," but she's so flushed with an inner flame she's shed jacket, scarf and gloves. Deborah Puette's Alma is burning, set alight by a firecracker the recently graduated doctor John Buchanan (Jason Dechert, in a role made for him) casually tosses at her during Glorious Hill, Mississippi's Fourth of July celebration. But Alma isn't like the pretty, simple girls who have surrounded the eligible Buchanan up north. Nearing spinsterhood, she's the town eccentric, who scatters crumbs for birds in the square and is given to heart palpitations that seem a result of the fluttery bird beating about in her own chest. Simultaneously attracted ("The light keeps changin' in [her eyes]") and repelled ("It's not lit," he says in the heartbreaking penultimate scene, crudely referring to his sexual desire), Buchanan engages with Alma as an almost scientific experiment. Yet Williams refuses to allow such cold sterility, and in a scene so charged it leaves you smoldering in your seat, Buchanan examines a frantic Alma, uttering possibly the most erotic three words ever written by a playwright. Director Damaso Rodriguez dances the entire production through the play's musicality on a stage lit beautifully by James P. Taylor in the soft gauziness that Williams' "romantic clichés" demand. In fact, the only slip is that early on, Puette rests on an overactive accent. But by the second act, even that flaw is forgiven, and as Williams' ever-tragic tide begins to come in, the only thing to do is let it wash over you. A Noise Within, 234 S. Brand Blvd., Glendale; runs in repertory thru May 28. (818) 240-0910, anoisewithin.org. (Rebecca Haithcoat)
Photo by Craig Schwartz
ECCENTRICITIES OF A NIGHTINGALE
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GO ENDGAME A successful staging of Samuel Beckett's absurdist classic requires a director who can mine the play's comic and lyrical elements, and effectively meld them with the author's relentlessly harsh vision. Here, director Paul Plunkett does just that, aided by an excellent cast which maintains that crucial balance throughout. Endgame is about four pitiful characters trapped in a dismal room as the outside world collapses in decay and sterility. Unlike the forlorn tramps in Waiting for Godot, there is no expectation of relief or purpose, just the slow passage of time ending in an inevitable, painful demise. Confined in a pair of battered, industrial containers, the ghoulish-looking Nagg and Nell (Barry Ford and the striking Kathy Bell Denton) emerge sporadically to break the tedium of the central "action," which unfolds on a rickety caricature of a throne. There, the blind, crippled Hamm (Leon Russom) is unable to move and has his needs tended to by the perpetually besieged Clov (David Fraioli), in a bizarre, ongoing ritual of servitude. When, toward the end, Hamm asks about his painkiller, and is told by Clov that there isn't any more, we know that, for this outing anyway, the laughs are balm enough. As effective as Plunkett's direction is, this fine revival really soars on the wings of the cast's terrific performances. Sacred Fools Theater, 660 N. Heliotrope Drive, Silver Lake, Fri.-Sat., 8 p.m., Sun., April 10 & 17, 7 p.m., thru April 23. (310) 281-8337. (Lovell Estell III)
GO GIRLS TALK Roger Kumble's new seriocomedy sets out to debunk that famous feminist promise that women can have it all — the career, the family and their sanity. As lights go up on a beached Brooke Shields, a milk pump attached to each breast, Kumble softens up his audience with broad comic strokes and entertainment industry in-jokes. He even pokes fun at racism before settling in to a serious examination of four power moms in Brentwood, and the dilemmas they face. As mother of three Lori, Shields shows up in a pink hoodie and Uggs, but pretty soon sky-high wedge heels and hefty designer handbags take over the stage (costumes by Ann Closs-Farley). She slobs about the solid, trilevel set (design by Tom Buderwitz) as the other, more pretentious moms arrive. Meanwhile Lori's former writing partner, Claire (Constance Zimmer), wants to lure her back to the cutthroat world of TV with an irresistible opportunity — a meeting with Oprah herself. But what about Lori's commitments to her eldest kid's preschool fundraiser? Eileen Galindo is underused as Lori's uncomprehending temp nanny. Andrea Bendewald is magnificent as alpha mom Jane, especially when she unleashes her vicious tongue, completely annihilating Scarlett (Nicole Paggi), the needy Southern mom who is trying so hard to be Jewish ("Holla for challa!"). But Jane gets her comeuppance, courtesy of Claire, a fearless non-mom. This play is full of squabbly little victories, some distasteful, some victorious. It concludes abruptly on a cliffhanger, but by then Kumble has well and truly made his point. Lee Strasberg Institute, Marilyn Monroe Theatre, 7936 Santa Monica Blvd., W. Hlywd.; Thurs.-Sat., 8 p.m., Sun., 3 p.m., thru April 24. (800) 595-4849, tix.com. (Pauline Adamek)