Steven Leigh MorrisCOMPREHENSIVE THEATER LISTINGS
NEW THEATER REVIEWS
STAGE FEATURE on plays without words: Hamlet Shut Up! and Violators Will Be Violated
NEW REVIEW GO ABSINTHE, OPIUM, AND MAGIC
Photo by Mark Bennington
1920s Shanghai is the setting of Debbie McMahon's wonderfully
environmental tour de force of clowning, dancing, and blood, which
evokes, with ferocious imagination, not just a bygone era, but also the
atmosphere of the Grand Guignol. Upon arrival at the theater, we are
ushered into an ante-chamber outside the actual auditorium, which has
been set up to resemble a Shanghai bazaar. There are sallow eyed
maidens serving tea – and also warm absinthe, strained through sugar,
Thomas De Quincey-style. The scent of the absinthe wafts through the
entire theater, melding with dry ice and creating a mood that elegantly
mixes pleasure and decay. The play's first act, “Sing Song Girl Sings
Last Song,” is a haunting ballet of despair, involving a cast which
includes jaded “Sing Song Girl” prostitute Bright Pearl (Tina Van
Berckelaer), a young virgin protégé (Amanda Street) who dreams of
becoming Top Whore, and calculating Madame Old Bustard (Dinah Steward),
who plots to sell the virgin to be raped and mutilated by a pig-like
mobster (Roy Starr). Anchored by McMahon's pleasingly
melodramatic choreography, the dance tackles a compelling story of
rage, despair, and vice. Steward's charmingly sinister Old Bustard
steals every scene she's in – but Street's scheming, loathsome virgin
is a standout as well. Act 2's vignette, Chris Bell's “The Cabinet of
Hands,” is a gripping horror tale, with a sharp twist of quirky humor.
A prissy young French couple (Robin Long and Zachary Foulkes),
vacationing in Shanghai, get more than they bargain for when they go
slumming at the opium den owned by a seemingly kind old woman (Kevin Dulude). As the thrill seeking Westerners get happily stoned on The
Dragon's Tail, the old woman's diabolical true nature shows through.
The final scene consists of a jaw dropping gorefest that will have you
simultaneously howling with terror and laughter (while slipping your
hands in your pockets for safekeeping). Dulude's wicked old woman is
a perfect embodiment of mysterious evil – and the horrific fate of Long's
ill-fated naïf hilariously suggests an anti-drug teaching moment that's
very effective. Art/Works Theatre, 6569 Santa Monica Blvd, Hollywood;
Fri.-Sat., 8 p.m.; check website for added perfs; thru Jan. 3.
https://www.brownpapertickets.com/ Grand Guignolers and [via] Corpora
Performance R&D House production (Paul Birchall)
For the latest NEW THEATER REVIEWS, press the Continue Reading tab directly below.
NEW THEATER REVIEWS (scheduled for publication Dec. 9, 2009
NEW REVIEW GO ABSINTHE, OPIUM, AND MAGIC
Photo by Mark Bennington
1920s Shanghai is the setting of Debbie McMahon's wonderfully
environmental tour de force of clowning, dancing, and blood, which
evokes, with ferocious imagination, not just a bygone era, but also the
atmosphere of the Grand Guignol. Upon arrival at the theater, we are
ushered into an ante-chamber outside the actual auditorium, which has
been set up to resemble a Shanghai bazaar. There are sallow eyed
maidens serving tea – and also warm absinthe, strained through sugar,
Thomas De Quincey-style. The scent of the absinthe wafts through the
entire theater, melding with dry ice and creating a mood that elegantly
mixes pleasure and decay. The play's first act, “Sing Song Girl Sings
Last Song,” is a haunting ballet of despair, involving a cast which
includes jaded “Sing Song Girl” prostitute Bright Pearl (Tina Van
Berckelaer), a young virgin protégé (Amanda Street) who dreams of
becoming Top Whore, and calculating Madame Old Bustard (Dinah Steward),
who plots to sell the virgin to be raped and mutilated by a pig-like
mobster (Roy Starr). Anchored by McMahon's pleasingly
melodramatic choreography, the dance tackles a compelling story of
rage, despair, and vice. Steward's charmingly sinister Old Bustard
steals every scene she's in – but Street's scheming, loathsome virgin
is a standout as well. Act 2's vignette, Chris Bell's “The Cabinet of
Hands,” is a gripping horror tale, with a sharp twist of quirky humor.
A prissy young French couple (Robin Long and Zachary Foulkes),
vacationing in Shanghai, get more than they bargain for when they go
slumming at the opium den owned by a seemingly kind old woman (Kevin
Dulude). As the thrill seeking Westerners get happily stoned on The
Dragon's Tail, the old woman's diabolical true nature shows through.
The final scene consists of a jaw dropping gorefest that will have you
simultaneously howling with terror and laughter (while slipping your
hands in your pockets for safekeeping). Dulude's wicked old woman is
a perfect embodiment of mysterious evil – and the horrific fate of
Long's
ill-fated naïf hilariously suggests an anti-drug teaching moment that's
very effective. Art/Works Theatre, 6569 Santa Monica Blvd, Hollywood;
Fri.-Sat., 8 p.m.; check website for added perfs; thru Jan. 3.
https://www.brownpapertickets.com/ Grand Guignolers and [via] Corpora
Performance R&D House production (Paul Birchall)
NEW REVIEW GO ACCOMPLICE: HOLLYWOOD
Photo courtesy of Tom Salamon
Part game, part theater, part tour: It all begins with a phone call
disclosing a secret meeting location. Aided by clues and mysterious
cast members strewn throughout various locations such as street
corners, bars, iconic landmarks and out-of-the-way spots, the audience
traverses the city streets, piecing together clues of a meticulously
crafted plot. Various Hollywood Blvd. locations, schedule varies.
https://accomplicetheshow.com. (SLM) See Theater feature on Wednesday
NEW REVIEW GO GAY APPAREL: A CHRISTMAS CAROL A gay
comedy with universal appeal, adapter Jason Moyer's entertaining spoof
of Dickens' classic imagines Scrooge as a prominent fashion designer
who at one time turned his back on true love when he opted for money
and success. In this scrambled parody, the bitchy mean-spirited
Scrooge (John Downey III) heads the S&M (Scrooge and Marley)
Fashion House, where he mistreats his loyal employee, Bob (Moyer),
while spurning the familial overtures of his good-hearted lesbian
niece, Belinda (Mandi Moss). Meanwhile, Dickens' martyred innocent,
Tiny Tim, has metamorphosed into invalid Uncle Tim (Leon Acord). When
Christmas Past (Moss) shows up (first as one of a trio of Afro-bewigged
dancers from the '70s), she ushers back memories of Scrooge's
childhood, when his Dad (Acord) reviled him as a sissy boy for drawing
dresses. Later, an enticing Christmas Present (Christopher Grant
Pearson) appears in the guise of an Alpine lad – but Scrooge's
overtures are met with a no-no. Co-directed by Moyer and Lauralea
Oliver, the show is bedecked with camped-up Christmas songs and
designer Jennifer C. Smith's comical costumes. The bare set and
rudimentary lighting design detract a bit from the spectacle, and
Downey's miser is too thinly caricatured, even for satire, but the
performances in the rest of this adept and versatile ensemble amply
compensate. Lyric-Hyperion Theater, 2106 Hyperion Ave., Silver Lake;
Fri.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 7 p.m.; thru Dec. 20. (800) 838-3006.
(Deborah Klugman)
NEW REVIEW GO THE GROUNDLINGS HOLIDAY SHOW The
infamous troupe opens this year's Christmas sketches (plus a token
Hanukkah bit) by taking the audience back to 1978 where a variety show
host announces the evening's very special line-up, including two mimes,
Kowalski and his Amazing Wrench, and a prostitute with a spoon. What
follows is equally random: A boss' niece is frozen in grunge-mad 1993
after too much booze at the office party (cell phones send her into a
thrashing panic), a newscaster throttles an orphan who's overdosed on
cookies, a Cirque du Soleil minotaur reenacts the invention of snow,
which involves him thrusting his white-spandexed crotch at a paralyzed
audience member. Ted Michaels' direction amps the physical comedy to
epileptic heights, causing the crowd to shake with laughter on the
performance I attended. As if to ground the evening, two improv
segments spun from audience suggestions were set in the mundane terrain
of Rent-A-Center and Mattress Giant — both strip mall spots were mined
for gold. The Groundlings are the best local gang for girl performers,
letting Stephanie Courtney and Charlotte Newhouse shine in odd,
inventive roles; not once were they hemmed in by any dull girlfriend
foil. Among a strong cast, Mitch Silpa was the most go-for-broke, and
was rewarded with guffaws. Groundlings Theater, 7307 Melrose Ave.,
L.A.; Fri., 8 p.m.; Sat., 8 & 10 p.m.; thru Dec. 19. (323)
934-9700. (Amy Nicholson)
NEW REVIEW THE HOUSE OF BESARAB
Photo by Dane Bowman
Anyone expecting Tamara II may want to give a pass to this
disappointing adaptation of Dracula. Though the production shares the
venue — the landmark Hollywood American Legion Post — that housed the
legendary environmental stage hit and promises a similarly immersive
theatrical experience, playwrights Terance Duddy (who directs and is
also the set and light designer) and Theodore Ott's anemic text simply
pales before the full-blooded characterizations and labyrinthine
simultaneity that made Tamara so richly rewarding. Here the Post stands
in for Castle Dracula as Dracula (Michael Hegedus) himself appears in
the atrium to welcome the assembled audience “to witness a battle
between good and evil.” In point of fact, what ensues is essentially
the final chapter of Bram Stoker's novel embroidered with the
reincarnation-romance subplot of Francis Ford Coppola's 1992 film
version and a bizarre, mad-scientist twist worthy of Roger Corman. The
audience can either follow the Count and his servile assistant,
Renfield (David Himes) into “the Great Hall” or wait for Dr. Van
Helsing (Travis Michael Holder), Dr. Seward (Jessica Pagan
understudying for Terra Shelman) and Harker (Dane Bowman), who soon
arrive with a somnambulent Mina (Chase McKenna) on a mission to save
her vampire-baptized soul. (Hint: follow Van Helsing; he's where the
action — and the better writing — is.) Despite the capable cast's game
effort and some elegant costuming by Sara Spink (who also does a fine
turn as one of Dracula's very pregnant brides), a lackluster production
design and stolid direction only compound the exposition-laden script's
failure to realize its environmental-theater ambitions. Hollywood
American Legion, 2305 N. Highland Ave., Hollywood; Thurs.-Sat., 9 p.m.;
Sun., 8 p.m.; thru Dec. 20. (310) 203-2850. (Bill Raden)
NEW REVIEW PANDORA This revisionist retelling of the
myth of Pandora's Box was created by director Ben Cox and the ensemble.
In it, we're presented with two Pandoras. The mythical Pandora
(Victoria Truscott) is created by Prometheus the Fire-Giver (Chris
Thorpe) as a wife/lover for Epimetheus (Willie Zelensky), and sent into
the world with a mysterious box that she's told she must never open.
Curiosity gets the better of her, she opens the box, and unwittingly
releases all the troubles that beset human-kind–but also hope, which
makes the troubles and woes bearable. The modern Pandora (Sarah
Casolaro) is a more familiar figure: raised by her mother (Faryl
Saliman Reingold), with an absent father, she has a sure instinct for
picking cruel, unreliable men. She uses her box to contain negative
feelings that threaten to engulf her. The show has many virtues,
including effective songs and dances, and the large ensemble is capable
and dedicated. But the production bears too many traces of its
self-conscious, over-earnest acting workshop origins. The mostly black
costumes, and scenes played in virtual darkness, create an overall
murkiness, and pacing is disastrously languid. Numerous short scenes,
separated by overlong blackouts, vitiate the proceedings and make for
flagging interest. Stella Adler Theater, 6773 Hollywood Boulevard;
Thurs.-Sun., 8 p.m., thru Dec. 20. https://www.NeoAcroTheatre.com A Neo
Acro Theatre Company production. (Neal Weaver)
NEW REVIEW GO ROBBIE JENSEN: THE 12 STEPS OF
CHRISTMAS Into Shane Birdsill's slick, corporate-style set, complete
with flipcharts, graphic posters, and a flat panel television display,
self-help “guru” Robbie Jensen (Tony Matthews, who co-wrote the piece
with Matt Schofield) comes bounding to work his magic with the
audience. It is December at the Marriott in Woodland Hills, and from
the outset Jensen gets his audience clapping and participating in call
and response as he introduces his “Four Steps to the Five Happinesses,”
all while employing a series of Colbert-esque malapropisms. Matthews'
engaging force of personality and smiling eyes draw you in as he
relates the story of his friend Enrique from Colombia and his sister
Fallopia to demonstrate the effectiveness of the rehabilitative “Robbie
House” run by Jensen and his offstage wife. In the second and third
acts, set in Philadelphia and Des Moines respectively, Jensen brings
members of the audience up on stage, but Jensen, now separated from his
wife, has begun drinking and his seminar falls apart, though not
without the hilarity that ensues from inebriation. Director Craig
Woolson keeps Matthews in constant motion, which fits his character
well, and Matthews' conversations with himself on the video screen are
well timed and executed. Outside of a first act that drags toward the
end and could use some editing, the rest of the show offers an amusing
evening of interactive entertainment. NoHo Arts Center, 11136 Magnolia
Blvd., N. Hollywood; Fri.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 3 p.m.; thru December 20.
(323) 960-1053. (Mayank Keshaviah)
NEW REVIEW THE SANTALAND DIARIES
Photo courtesy of Blank Theatre Company
That master of NPR snark, David Sedaris, sinks his claws into Claus in
his artful monologue about the relentless Hell we know better as
Christmastime Customer Service. In director Michael Matthews' intimate
and straightforward solo show, performer Nicholas Brendon portrays the
narrator of Sedaris' tale, who gets a gig as a Macy's Department Store
Elf during the weeks before Christmas. Any thoughts that the newly
minted Elf might come away from the experience with a sense of faith in
mankind's goodwill almost instantly wears away under the relentless
tide of screeching children, selfish and boorish parents, and seemingly
demented Santas. And what a rogues gallery the Great Christmas Public
is, running the gamut from barfing children, to foul-mouthed parents,
to co-workers as deranged as they are elfin. Although Sedaris's hero is
working in the most ignominious gig, the World of Holiday Fun —
amusing on its own terms — the story's barbed depiction of the retail
world will ring drolly true to anyone who has ever had a job when they
can't talk back to the rude and the disgusting. Brendon is an appealing
performer who makes Sedaris' story his own, nicely conveying the sense
of a character whose toothy, cheerful grin masks the disdain of the
passive- aggressive store clerk. If there's a problem with Sedaris's
play, it's that the material is almost aggressively lightweight, with
the dramatic heft of a scrap of Christmas wrapping paper. Still, if
you're into funny jokes about awful customers, the show's frothy charm
has appeal. 2nd Stage Theatre, 6500 Santa Monica Blvd., Hollywood;
Wed.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 2 & 5 p.m.; thru December 20.
https://www.theblank.com or (323) 661-9827. A Blank Theatre Company
production. (Paul Birchall)
NEW REVIEW STATED INCOME
Photo by Stephen Allison
If there's any truth to the old apothegm about a good actor's ability
to wring a compelling performance out of the telephone book, director
Mark Blanchard and his gifted ensemble certainly prove it in this
premiere of playwright Hugh Gross' fatally insipid recession comedy.
Times are tough for real-estate loan broker Mel Malt (Sal Landi) in the
wake of the subprime mortgage fiasco. His relationship with his
girlfriend, Irene (Michelle Laurent), is on the rocks; his
cash-strapped daughter (Laurent) is threatening to take his grandchild
(the double-cast Carmen and Rowan Blanchard) off to cheaper pastures;
and his banker (Orien Richman) is hounding him for the back payments on
the home-improvement loan he took out to float his foundering business.
Potential salvation arrives in the form of Stuart Dolittle (the
charismatic Michael Malota), an ambitious and ethically ambivalent
young intern, who proposes that if they can't earn commissions by
getting loans for their fiscally-deadbeat clientele, they can use the
confidential income information on their loan applications to rat out
customers to the IRS for a percentage of any unpaid taxes. And while
the improbable scheme ultimately pays off, little else does in a
disjointed, threadbare narrative beset by too much pedestrian dialogue
and under-developed relationships. The cast takes up some of the slack
with memorably screwball character vignettes (including Richman and
Kasia Wolejnio's wicked take on a pair of bickering, Armenian nouveau
riche) and director Blanchard eases the pain with a breakneck, Howard
Hawksian pace. Pan Andreas Theater, 5125 Melrose Ave., L.A.; Fri.-Sat.,
8 p.m.; Sun., 7 p.m.; thru Dec. 20. (323) 960-7788. Presented by
Actorhood. (Bill Raden)
NEW REVIEW GO THREE TALL WOMEN In a 2005 interview
given to the Academy of Achievement, Edward Albee said “What could be
worse than getting to the end of your life and realizing you hadn't
lived it.” The words are eerily apropos when considering this haunting
theatrical meditation on life unfulfilled, and looming death, which
garnered Albee his third Pulitzer in 1994. In the opening tableau, we
first see a senile, elderly women simply known as A (a virtuosic turn
by Eve Sigall), who is either “91 or 92,” seated in her bedroom in the
company of a youthful, nattily dressed woman B (Jan Sheldrick) and A's
middle aged caregiver C (Leah Myette). The dialogue is brisk, chatty,
often loud and angry, often humorous, and laced with colorful,
sometimes dark reminiscences that subtly hint at the connection they
share. It is early on in Act 2 when we learn that these three females
are actually one person seen at differing stages in life — cross
sections of one soul. The conceit allows them access to each other as
familiars and strangers, incapable of fully grasping the person that
they became, torn between joy, guilt and regret, while awaiting the
inevitable approach of death, the “getting to the end of it,” as A
sadly muses at play's end. Michael Matthews, in addition to drawing
stellar performances from his cast, directs this production with
redoubtable subtlety. Kurt Boecher's expressionist “exploded” bedroom
set adds a perfect touch. Rounding out the cast is Michael Geniac. El
Centro Theater, A West Coast Ensemble production. 845 N. El Centro
Ave., Hollywood; Thur- Sat, 8 p.m., Sun. 3 p.m. thru Dec. 20 (323)
460-4443. (Lovell Estell III)
NEW REVIEW WACACEMIA Joe Camhi's satire of political
correctness in academia has a buzzsaw to grind, then uses one to make
its points about tyranny in the university, based on the author's own
experience. In a scene that's like a remake of Oleanna – as though
David Mamet's play hadn't sufficiently made its point —
professor/stand-up comedian Dr. Mark Michaels (Nick Huff), makes an
“inappropriate” joke in class, offending the dimmest damsel in distress
you're ever likely to meet (Sara McAanarney-Reed). She brings charges
against the prof, and we see him tried in kangaroo court before a
committee of idiots, led by femi-Nazi Dr. Deborah (Wednesday Hobson).
Don't quite know why such an inquisition played as farce ceases to
amuse or persuade. Michaels is summarily dismissed, which is supposed
to be a bad thing, but I can't say I felt the heavy weight of
oppression, given the dreary quality of his lectures that we saw. It is
unfair that he was fired for telling jokes in class. He should really
have been dismissed for his lack of comic timing. That's all in Act 2.
Let's back up for a moment into Act 1, which consists of a series of
scenes between an elder Mafioso named Jimmy (Camhi) recovering from a
stab wound to the stomach. On orders from the Godfather (Ggreg Snyder),
Jimmy's son Angelo (Chriss Nicholas) must help his dad during his
recovery. Through their comedic banter, we understand how tough-guy
Angelo has been influenced by his college professor wife, Dr. Deborah –
the same Dr. Deborah who leads the inquisition against Dr. Michaels in
Act 2. Angelo questions his father's stream of racist, sexist slurs
with references to “The Feminimine Misspeak” and “mega-culturalism.” In
that first act lies the seeds of pretty good comedy, were Deborah to
actually show up and move things beyond one joke. Alas, it implodes in
Act 2 (intended as a separate one-act), when Deborah does show up at
her university setting. Act 3, in the couple's bedroom, is a taut
stand-alone one-act in which we see Deborah's droll response to her
hubbie's infidelity. But as a wrap up to the plays before, it's too
late to salvage the twisted steel. The leading actors are quite good,
and the play gets a nice push from director Rod Oden, staging Act 1 as
a boxing match with a squeaky voiced Ring Girl (Amanda Carr) – who
knows exactly what game she's playing – sashaying across the stage
between scenes in a bikini, bearing placards announcing what's going
on. She is, in fact, the show's highlight, with a humor and spontaneity
that the rest of the production desperately needs. Actors Playpen,
1514 N. Gardner St., L.A.; Fri.-Sat., 8 p.m.; thru Dec. 19. (323)
874-1733. (Steven Leigh Morris)
Advertising disclosure: We may receive compensation for some of the links in our stories. Thank you for supporting LA Weekly and our advertisers.