{mosimage}THE SHELTER

There’re no two ways about it — either you’ll think Valery Belyakovich’s stylized reworking of Maxim Gorky’s The Lower Depths is
a work of mad genius or you’re going to feel bludgeoned by three hours
of hyper-mannered movement, hoarse declamations and intrusive music. I
happen to fall into the latter demographic, although I do recognize the
dedication and physical endurance of 19 actors who are nearly always
twirling behind whichever characters are speaking at the moment. Set in
a contemporary flophouse, the story is a collection of the biographies
of various “types” whose lives have been ruined by alcohol. These
include a lawyer, an actor, a whore, a cardsharp — even a deli owner.
They’ve lost everything and are reduced to living in a filthy room
crammed with bunk beds, tyrannized by the flophouse’s owners (Franklyn
Ajaye and Nicole Ansari Cox) and a crooked cop (Timothy V. Murphy). A
messianic figure named the Wanderer (Donald Lacy) arrives to spread
hope as the play’s one real plot unfolds — a love triangle between the
owner’s wife, her sister (Stasha Surdyke) and the resident thief (Pasha
D. Lychnikoff, who, with co-producer Lee Hubbard, adapted this work for
English). The overuse of a fog machine is one tip-off that we’re in for
an evening of atmosphere masquerading as philosophy; another is the
recurring use of calliope music to underscore reminiscences, and
Wojciech Kilar’s theme from Bram Stoker’s Dracula to suggest
menace. Black Square Productions at the Odyssey Theater, 2055 S.
Sepulveda Blvd., W.L.A.; Thurs.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 7 p.m.; thru March
5. (310) 477-2055.

—Steven Mikulan


{mosimage}Jay Johnson got his big break when he saw a casting notice for a ventriloquist on the TV sitcom Soap.
He auditioned with his wooden sidekick Squeaky. Jay got the part but
Squeaky didn’t. In a funny and curiously touching scene, Jay breaks the
news to Squeaky in a way that we share Johnson’s belief in the reality
of his characters. In addition to Squeaky, there’s belligerent Bob from
Soap, a severed head or two, a talking snake who’s afraid of
snakes, a jive-talking monkey who goes ape and a vulture who calls
himself The Bird of Death. The show is a genre-bender, which combines a
history of ventriloquism, a bit of autobiography, hilarious comedy and
the moving tale of a 71-year-old ex-vaudevillian who came out of
retirement to carve Squeaky for young Jay, and shared with him his rich
craft. Johnson considers ventriloquism an art, and he is truly an
artist — as remarkable for his near-magical skill as for his anarchic
wit, charm and humanity. And he’s certainly the only ventriloquist who
ever moved me to tears. Richmark Entertainment at the Brentwood
Theater, Veterans Administration Grounds, 11301 Wilshire Blvd., W.L.A.;
Tues.-Thurs., 7:30 p.m.; Fri., 8 p.m.; Sat.-Sun., 3 & 7 p.m. (added
perfs some Wed., 2 p.m., call for schedule); thru Feb. 19. (213)

—Neal Weaver
LA Weekly