When you walk into a theatre and the first question they ask is, “Would you like vodka? Or better vodka?” you know either way you’re a winner. If the play is a mess, at the very least you can enjoy the stiff drink. But when that introduction leads you through a worn-down circus, past a memorial service for two insects, between some dancing fops, and into a theatre with live music already underway, you can be assured you’re in for a night of equally delightful and unexpected treats. Simultaneously disorienting and comforting, the lead-in is meant to prepare you for the evening’s main event, ARTEL’s latest devised experiment, Kharmful Charms of Daniil Kharms.

As the playbill explains, Daniil Kharms was an eccentric Post Modern theatre theoretician who championed the burgeoning surrealist movement and the autonomy of art from the “real world’s” rules and logic. Dead soon after his imprisonment in the psychiatric ward of Leningrad Prison No. 1 in the 1940’s, his writing remains one of the lesser-known gems of the surrealist movement. The American Russian Theatre Ensemble Laboratory (ARTEL) has mined the records of OBERIU (Union of Real Art), Kharms’ avant-garde collective, as well as their personal store of dance, movement, and Russian drinking-song knowledge, to devise a nonlinear dreamscape true to Kharms’ colorful artistic sensibilities. As is the nature of absurdist theatre, the joy lies in the recognition of the human experience in the seemingly illogical, and ARTEL’s observations are particularly astute.

Their success lies, I believe, in the capable hands of director Olya Petrakova (aka Ms. Chief) as well as the patience the company and its sponsors has allowed in the creation of the piece. All too often, devised pieces are all process and no product. The company has gone on a fantastic journey through exercises and discovery and theory and play, but once performed, audiences are bewildered, open to the experience but unable to appreciate and enjoy the ideas that haven’t yet been fully realized or should have been cut long ago. Not so, in this case. Incubated in various forms since March 2009 and continuing to evolve throughout the run, Ms. Chief has led the clever ensemble in composing a piece which was, for the most part, free from self-indulging and lean with original content. The result leaves the audience just as bewildered, but provides oases of self-recognition, consistent bouts of hearty laughter, and a genuine sense of payoff in the end. Grotowski would be proud.

The less-than-lean moments, a few unfocused Vocal Viewpoints bits and a charming but ultimately tedious bird-beaked jury scene, do little to detract from the overall pastiche. Between the dancing and singing and whispering and plate-smashing, some elements by default lack the intention and energy to keep the piece consistent. Understandably so, it is difficult to weigh the textures of such a multidisciplinary, purposefully contradictive performance.

Much like the potato-garlic soup they were serving in the lobby the night I attended, the collective doled out generous servings of comedy with a smirk and a recipe all of their own. Between the men in tutus, the women in mustaches, the audience-interactive “Hello, Man!” sequence, and the proposal of drinking vinegar, the hilarity appealed to varying funny bones, proving the mix to be one part Animaniacs, one part Monty Python, and a dash of Beckett’s Vladimir and Estragon. Nothing happens. Violence happens. The unexpected happens. Regardless of what’s happening, it’s funny.

From the lobby to the stage, the entire theatre encompassed the universe of Kharms with rich detail. Gorgeous black and white photography hung from strings on the ceiling near the theatre’s bathroom. The utilitarian backdrop of the set was a stunning deep red. Incidental music created on found instruments gave the production a backbone, while human-generated sound effects sent chills and filled the transitions with intensity and depth. The costumes were rich with detail and humor, from the tutus to the mad scientist garb, and particularly beautiful when all of the female ensemble members were draped in white. Larger than life props added to the absurdity. The one weak link was the lighting, which in general seemed oppressively dark and at times left entire faces in the dark.

ARTEL, a company of self-proclaimed “Artisanal Scientists” have been devising theatre in Los Angeles since their founding in 2005, and it shows. From their idea of creative concessions (buy a fake mustache, get a free cup of soup!) to their knack for theatrical ingenuity, their work serves to prove they are a devising company worth the evening’s experiment.

Kharmful Charms of Daniil Kharms is performed Fridays and Saturdays at 8 p.m. and select Wednesdays, Thursdays and Sundays at 3 pm through March 20, 2010.

Art/Works Theatre  is located at 6567 Santa Monica Blvd., Hollywood, CA  90038, between Highland and Vine.

Ticket prices: $24.00 - $28.00

Reservations online at www.brownpapertickets.com or by phone at (800) 838-3006.

“Tonight I have seen that I have been the fool, just a bit player in a story you all know too well.”

The story is that of a man prophesied to kill his father and marry his mother. That bit player is, of course, Oedipus. Luis Alfaro’s Oedipus El Rey, playing at Boston Court, is a modern-day adaptation of Sophocles’ Oedipus Rex. Corinth is replaced with the North Kern State Prison; and instead of Thebes, Oedipus (Justin Huen) is king of the L.A. barrio Pico/Union.

In this adaption we are shown Oedipus’s life from beginning to end. After his birth his father Laius (the robust Leandro Cano), in order to thwart the prophecy that his son will kill him, cuts the baby’s feet and gives him to his subordinate Tiresias (Winston J. Rocha) to kill. Taking pity on the child, Tiresias raises the child himself. Oedipus grows up in and out of juvenile facilities and eventually is incarcerated. Tiresias, el papá, lands himself in prison too, just to watch over Oedipus. Oedipus is a sympathetic convict who’s merely a victim of his circumstances. After all, he has dreams – although he admits, “it’s not too good to dream in [prison].” It seems those dreams come true when he meets Jocasta, played flawlessly by Marlene Forte. Huen’s rugged and explosive youth is complemented by Forte’s deep and sensual sadness. Their chemistry is disturbingly electric, so much so that when Oedipus and Jocasta succumb to their painfully desperate need for connection we forget, for a brief moment, that they are mother and son.

Their honeymoon, however, is short lived. The Greek classic is driven by fate; this adaptation, however, is driven more by the need to believe in it. Here the Greek deities and the Catholic God are fused together, creating a belief system bound by guilt and inspired by myths – and yet there is hope for redemption. Oedipus, in his hubris, declares himself a god – thus believing himself above the myths of the gods and guilt of the sinners, and thereby, beyond redemption.

This egomaniacal trait is a gift from his father Laius as evident in the patricide scene. The two men confront one another due to road rage, which escalates into a fistfight culminating with Oedipus pounding Laius to death. And like father, like son – once he puts on that gold chain with the crown, he becomes the very person he killed.

There’s a lot to appreciate in Alfaro’s adaptation. His poetic prose evokes the classic and yet is very much rooted the contemporary. Especially poignant is the humor, which delicately balances the tragedy. Director Jon Lawrence Rivera masterfully choreographs the jumps in time and space as transitions are fully played out and scenes are elegantly overlapped. The rhythm of the language is never rushed, nor does it lag on.

El Coro (Michael Uribes, Carlos Acuña, Daniel Chacón, Cano and Rocha) seamlessly shifts from prison inmates to mythological creatures, and other characters. Most salient is the three-headed Esfinge (Uribes, Chacón and Acuña) who is destroyed and vanishes into thin air when Oedipus answers its riddle correctly.

The production’s simple and stark design complements the rich and heavy material. John H. Binkley’s set has a modern Japanese feel with its solid colors and sleek lines. Other than the red stage and sloped prison bars, the only other real set pieces are five stools and two chairs. Jeremy Pivnick’s lighting design is dark and focused as it accentuates the play’s themes. Especially memorable is the sound design and music composition by Robert Oriol, whose mournful and exquisite guitar melody serves as the perfect underscore. Sound plays a crucial role in evoking mood and place. Whether it’s whistles, dogs barking, birds chirping, or the wind blowing – there always seems to be some sort of ambient noise. And when there is no noise, it makes the silence all the more deafening.

The costumes by Dori Quan are also simple. With Oedipus in a wife-beater that showcases his muscular body and tattoos, the Coro in button down jail uniforms and jeans, and Jocasta’s black wrap dress. Her other dress, however, is a bit noisy next to the muted colors of the others and clashes with the red stage. The masks and props by Shannon Dedman are nicely understated as they offer just enough to evoke a character transformation while leaving the rest to the imagination.

If this play were to be done in true Greek fashion – sans sets, lights, and sound – the story would still be just as memorable. That is due to the tremendous abilities of the ensemble and the delicate staging by Rivera. The finals moments are frightfully stunning as we witness the blind leading the blind, thus leaving us to question our own beliefs in fate and destiny and whether or not we have the power to change it.

Oedipus el Rey, a National New Play Network World Premiere, is performed Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays at 8 pm and Sundays at 2 pm through March 28, 2010

The Theatre @ Boston Court is located at 70 N. Mentor Avenue, Pasadena, CA 91106, just east of N Lake Ave., just north of Colorado Blvd.

Ticket prices: General admission $32.00, Student/Seniors $27.00

Reservations on-line at www.bostoncourt.org or by phone at 626-683-6883

On The Air, playing at the Whitefire Theatre, is a charming show, a murder mystery musical comedy, although it is not quite a full musical; there are only two songs in the first act and only two in the second.  The murder mystery also takes a back seat to that shenanigans going on in the studio of radio station KRAP, from where the nightly, live radio drama show “Dark ‘Til Morning” is broadcast.  (It is a little odd that, besides live commercials, it seems this is the only show that is broadcast from this studio.)

The story revolves around the two stars of the radio drama, pompous Walter Wicks (A very funny Michael Tatlock) and Deirdra Banks (Donna Pieroni).  They have both had successful careers (perhaps more imagined than actual, we suspect), have known, worked with and hated each other for many, many years.  They are both resentful that this show is what they have been reduced to in their old age.  They stick with it, though, because it is popular and it pays the bills.  They fight and bicker and try to outdo each other.  They both insist that they are the only thing that makes the show work.

John Moschitta, Jr. plays Manny Lowmax, the man who runs the studio, writes the scripts, abuses his employees and is put upon by all those under him.  Shane Houston plays Jimmy, the studio gofer with high ambitions.  The Cop is played by tall, good-looking comic actor Nicholas Harden.

Almost everyone at the station hates almost everyone else for many reasons, and one of them ends up dead.

The rest of the play is a sort of clumsy Keystone Cops adventure as those left living try hide the body, keep the foul deed from the cops and the listening public, all the while trying to discover which of them did the actual murder.

Ms. Pieroni is a perfect fit for the role of Banks, except that her patrician accent comes and goes, although one could imagine the accent and persona of this fading star are both pretended so that may be okay after all.  She plays it as an ample, imposing, silly, fading diva.  Mr. Tatlock plays the “Shakespearean” actor with all the pomp and pretension that would be expected of a great man fallen on hard times who drinks heavily to get through each humiliating day.

Mr. Moschitta is appropriately gruff and hard bitten as the boss, although he becomes a tad bit fey in the musical numbers.  Mr. Houston, who also wrote the play and directs it, plays the naive but ambitious Jimmy as a sort of exaggerated Jimmy Olsen/Andy Hardy.  He has some very funny moments and his forced enthusiasm is a very good contrast to the antipathy of his fellow radio station-ites.

Mr. Harden as The Cop has a surprisingly silly take on the role and plays the double-takes and mugging of the broad comedy to full effect.

The script is good (not great) with such observations as “With youth comes stupidity”.  Much of the humor is a little long-in-the-tooth, but even some of that is quite funny.  The staging is where the play falls short.  I don’t know if the stage at the Whitefire is shallow or not (I’ve only seen two productions there) but the area they have given themselves to work on — it seems only a few paces from the front lip to the black curtain at the back — is almost wholly inadequate for all the door slamming, hiding, disappearing and running around of the farce.

Mr. Houston also makes the odd choice of using a relatively large portion of the small space for a small table with a radio on the top of it, which he lights, with the rest of the stage dark, for some of the actual broadcasts and commercials.  This might have worked had it not taken up room that could have been used better by the action and had it not been that he also, in the dark, had actors at a microphone on the other side of the stage acting out what we were to have heard on that radio.  It was an interesting idea that really didn’t work.

The first act, where everything is set up,  is a little flat.  The second, where all the door slamming begins in earnest, is much more fulfilling.

Also a problem, during one of the first scenes, the first time we meet Banks and Wicks performing their show, center stage is Jimmy at the sound-effects table.  All the ecoutrement of that table were on display as the audience entered the theatre, leaving us with an excitement about the possibilities of actually seeing the sounds being made there, which could have been fascinating if they were done well, or very funny if they weren’t.  Instead, the sound effects were recorded with Mr. Houston simply (and only sort of) miming the use of the props.  It was a distracting disappointment.

There is a lot about the script and the staging that simply doesn’t make sense (for instance, the body is all tied up with cloth and string, and yet they pretend it is still alive at one point) but much of that can be forgiven in a farce.  It would be nice, if this play were to be developed more and presented on a different stage, to see some of that which is illogical and inconsistent cleaned up.  (And if it’s really a musical, have a few songs, ones that move the plot, such as it is, forward.)

The costumes (not credited in the program) were quite good, very easily evoking each character, especially Ms. Bank’s elegant and over produced gown.  The set, by Mr Houston, was fine as far as it went, clever in some ways.  There were three flats that turned and tipped to represent the studio, the greenroom, the back alley and the roof of the building.

On The Air is performed Saturdays only at 8 p.m. through March 6th, 2010.

The WiteFire Theatre is located at 13500 Ventura Blvd., Sherman Oaks, CA 91423, between Woodman and Coldwater.

Ticket prices: $20.00

Reservations online at www.plays411.com/ontheair or by phone at (323) 960-4420.

(Full Disclosure:  Ms. Steed is a proud new member of Son of Semele Ensemble and is therefore very much biased. That being said, she is partial to anyone who is passionate about the theatre.)

Company:  Son of Semele Ensemble

Neighborhood:  Silver Lake

Address:    3301 Beverly Blvd.
Los Angeles, CA 90004
(on the corner of Beverly and Hoover)

Website:  www.sonofsemele.org

Seat capacity:  36

When founded:  2000

Parking:  Street – leave extra time to find a space, there is currently construction.

Handicap accessible:  Yes – let them know beforehand to set up.

Restroom(s):  One – you have to wait till the house is open.

Amenities:  Central heating and air.

Lobby:  Outside courtyard.

Concessions:  Yes and you’re allowed to take it inside the theater.

What’s Nearby:

• Sanjang Coffee Garden:  101 S Virgil Ave - About 2 blocks west of SOSE. The Seafood Ramen and Chicken Curry are SOSE favorites. They have valet parking and are open till 2am.
• Medusa Lounge:  3211 Beverly Blvd - One block east of SOSE - It’s a club with food and cocktails. They also have valet parking and are open till 2am.
• Thai - EastWind:  2801 Beverly Boulevard - About 5 blocks east of SOSE. The curry is a SOSE favorite and the staff there are really nice.
• Tommy’s Burgers:  Beverly and Rampart - About half a mile east of SOSE. They’re famous for their chili burgers and never close.

What’s on:  Slaughter City by Naomi Wallace. Playing Feb 19 – Mar 21, 2010

Dionysus, the son of the mortal woman Semele and the god Zeus, is the Greek god of wine and theatre. He is also associated with ritual madness and ecstasy, which pretty much defines theatre.  And wine.

Son of Semele Ensemble began in 2000 when founder and Artistic Director Matthew McCray wanted to produce a play he had written called Earthlings. Once that was over someone asked, “what’s the next production?” Thus began Son of Semele Ensemble, or SOSE as members like to call it.

“In the early years we were naive and not very seasoned as theatre people,” says McCray. “Young, but passionate. Our knowledge of the ensemble theatre movement was simply young. It was like we were looking to others to show us what to do — looking to regional theaters for the ‘right’ way. As we have produced more and more, I think our work has become more complex in design, content/themes and in our directorial approaches. We have grown more and more seasoned with each new project. In recent years we have begun creating our own work, a process that takes years to complete. These kinds of challenges are sustainable only on the small scale that we produce at, and it is very fulfilling.”

Their mission is to create theatre in new forms and styles that has long-standing impact, to create theatre that will engage with the minds of the audience after the performance has past.

When naming the ensemble, company member Michael Nehring had always been a Dionysus aficionado and really wanted to name the company after him. Although they don’t do Greek plays, McCray feels the name itself does pay tribute to the energy and qualities of Dionysus. The Bacchic ritual was chaotic and frenzied.

“Our work reflects those things,” says McCray. “We deal with extremities. Not with naturalistic themes or even realism.  I think we ride the line between experimental and conventional really well — meaning our work remains somewhat accessible, yet still manages to push the limits of what American theatre often is,” he explains.

“We have always relied heavily on the participation of our members and worked to created systems that encourage equal participation. It is never perfectly equal, but we never list people as members unless they have earned the title. We have always encouraged quality over quantity where artists are concerned.

“Though we began as a dues-paying ensemble, we cut dues out of our budget entirely. We could have kept requiring our artists to pay monthly fees, but we felt it was philosophically wrong.  We always wanted to remove dues and… WE DID IT!  Most importantly, we did it voluntarily. That is something to be proud of, I think.”

Although the 36-seat theatre is small, it has a lot to offer. “We built it ourselves,” boasts McCray. It has many limitations but “is sort-of wonderful if you embrace it.” He admits, “We’ve learned to embrace it, but as our work is growing more complex it is certainly getting more difficult to accomplish it in a space like ours. We are facing more and more logistical challenges with our little space as we grow.”

SOSE has received 17 award nominations, out of which they’ve won 2 Ovation Awards, 4 LA Weekly Awards and 1 NAACP Theatre Award. In 2004, the company was featured in American Theatre Magazine about up-and-coming young ensemble companies. They were also featured in an international journal called TheatreForum. Other recognition includes great reviews in all the major papers in L.A. including a Critic’s Pick in the LA Times last year for The Designated Mourner. “We aren’t doing typical fare, so receiving the kinds of recognition we have is something I’m very proud of,” expresses McCray.

In addition, SOSE has been awarded grants from the city and county of Los Angeles, the Alfred P. Sloan Foundation Project in Science and Technology and the California Story Fund through the California Council on the Humanities.

When they’re not in production, the theatre is rented out to other artists at a very affordable rate. They also develop their own work and do workshops with playwrights that will one day become productions. In the past, they have hosted workshops with theatre companies such as Complicite and Steppenwolf West.

It’s easy to get involved with SOSE. They’re always looking for volunteers and have had interns through the LA County Arts Commission and informal internships with UC Riverside and Chapman University.

When asked what SOSE’s target audience was, McCray replied:  “The savvy theatre-goer. The thinker. The visual artist. The political activist. The person who is tired of ‘perfect’ theatre and instead would like something rough around the edges.”

Something important to know about SOSE is that they work on an extremely small budget. “People come to our shows and they think we spent a fortune. Believe me, we would love to spend a fortune, but the fact is we have a very small budget. It wouldn’t surprise me if we were one of the smallest-budget organizations running a performance venue in Los Angeles. I was talking to a friend recently and his company’s fee they paid to a director was our entire production budget. It was a funny moment. And I’d love to have more money to pay people and go even farther. But for now we have very little and it is wonderful that people leave our theatre stunted by the visual. SOSE is a place where the passion for the art always wins out over budgetary constraints. Someday we’ll have the money to pay better, but until then, I’m proud of what we can do with our shoestring budget.”

SOSE has always tried to be something different – alternative approaches, exigent material, process-based, etc. “I’m proud that we’ve managed to stay afloat for 10 years doing the kinds of the work we’ve been doing. Someone recently said to me after a performance that it was the best piece of theatre he’d ever seen. Many people may have left puzzled by the work, but he left in awe of it. It was a moment that makes it all worth it. I’m not interested in presenting something that everyone will know how to digest. I’m interested in producing something spicy – something that you have to figure out along the way.”

By P.C. Clark~

So, here I am. I’ve decided to get up off my lovely leather couch, leaving my home-theatre- blue- ray-surround-sound-ultimate-movie-theatre-experience behind. I’ve decided I need to leave my comfortable home and venture out into the “actual” world and risk bumping into “actual” people and see an “actual” theatre piece.

I’ve done my research. I read a review on LATheatreReview.com that made me think, “I might like this show”. I checked the theatre listings and discovered where the little 99 seat jewel box theatre is. I go to the website listed and try to make a reservation. They want a credit card. I just want to make a reservation and pay cash at the door. ( I have a thing about not using my card on line any more than I absolutely have to. Besides, there is almost always a service charge to use the credit card to reserve a seat.) I close the browser. I pick up my cell phone which, miraculously, has a signal in my house for once, and I dial the theatre. I listen through a recorded message that must rival the 1001 Arabian Nights tale for length and finally leave a message making a reservation for the show.

Later that same day I get a call from the little theatre confirming that I called and could they please have a credit card number to confirm the reservation. I explain to the lovely young voice on the phone that I will pay when I arrive and pick up my ticket. The lovely young voice explains that, well, they can put my name on the reservation list, but my seat won’t be guaranteed. I thank the now less than lovely and less than young voice and hang up.

I return to my comfortable leather couch to watch Pyscho Beach Party and think, why would I want to support the “actual” fools that run that theatre.

by Joel Elkins~

It takes a lot of courage to write a play like The Unexpected Man, and just as much courage to stage a production of it. A play with only two characters is daunting enough, but when those characters, for the most part, don’t even interact, keeping the audience involved requires a tight rope act of engaging writing and fine acting. I’m not quite sure if it was the playwright or the actors who were not quite up to the task, but try as I could, I couldn’t seem to really get into the characters’ stories which consume much of the 90-minute production.

The story itself is quite simple. A man and a woman find themselves sitting across from each other on a train from Paris to Frankfurt. He is a mildly famous author; she, by chance, one of his biggest fans. At this point, I’m thinking this is my kind of play. No minor characters or external plot twists to get in the way of sharply written dialogue. They will start the conversational dance of strangers, deciding how and how much to disclose of themselves to each another, while the audience listens in as equal observers, our familiarity exactly equal to theirs.

However, like a trainer holding a raw steak just out of the reach of the lion, the playwright tantalizes us with the prospect of encounter, but repeatedly pulls it away, begrudging us what we, as audience members, crave and feel we deserve. Instead, the two take turns vocalizing whatever thoughts are swirling on in their heads at the time. And, as with everyone, these thoughts range from the ridiculous to the sublime: family, career, aging, past relationships, changing world mores, events of thirty years ago and events of that morning. But most importantly, particularly in her case, about the person sitting across the aisle. She has recognized him immediately and can think of not much else. What was he thinking about? Where was he going? Should she open up a conversation and, if so, how? Why wasn’t he looking her way? In contrast to her obsession with him, he at first doesn’t even notice her, too absorbed in his random thoughts. But eventually he does slip out of his own bubble and takes notice of the silent women in the adjoining seat. What was her story? As an author, he finds it easy to fill in the missing pieces with complete confidence in their accuracy.

However, even with each now firmly preoccupied with his/her cabin-mate, yearning to make contact, to ask questions, to share feelings and ideas, neither has the guts to break the silence, and we are subjected once more to their inner thoughts.

Spoiler alert: they do eventually communicate, their short conversation serving as coda to the lengthy sonata and leaving the audience with a pleasant taste in their mouths as they leave the theater. But by the time we are treated to this delightful tete-a-tete, we’ve had to endure what essentially amounts to an hour-long dual stream of consciousness.

Of course, one could argue (rather successfully) that the streams eventually do meet and the intensity of the eventual intercourse (in the strictest G-rated meaning of the word) is only a result of the slow and ambagious buildup. How much juicier that meat must taste after having it dangled in front of one’s face for an hour. One could also argue that we’ve seen the classic “two-strangers-meet-on-a-train-and-interact-and-through-that-interaction-undergo-profound-change-before-they-reach-the-station” genre hundreds of times. One could further argue that this genre is simply not realistic. More often, people will sit across from each other the entire trip without ever exchanging words, despite the compelling desire to do so. And while I appreciate these arguments and the courage it takes not to be formulaic, formulas become such because they work. Breaking the formula is admirable when it works, but shouldn’t be an end in and of itself. And, furthermore, the storybook ending seriously undermines any serious anti-formula argument.

The script by Yasmina Reza, who is most famous for her universally acclaimed play Art, places the cast in the unenviable position of having to engage the audience without being able to speak with it (or each other) directly. Judy Jean Berns and Ronald Hunter, excellent actors both, do their professional best to do so, but, for the most part, are unable to sustain interest during the highly contemplative and excessively torpid passages in the script.

The set design by Chrystal Lee is understandably simple but employs two interesting devices. First is the conspicuous contrast between the two sides of the stage. The right side, where he is sitting, appears modern, with plastic seats and chrome metal luggage racks. Her side, stage left, is all old-style wood with fabric seats. Is the message that he is more modern while she has an “old soul”? Or was it done simply to emphasize what different worlds they were in, even while traveling on the same train, in the same compartment?

The second staging decision is the giant double screen above the stage exhibiting a steady stream of stylized photographs relating, more or less, to what each character is thinking about. Presumably, the screen is split to again represent what dissimilar places they are in while sitting in the same passenger car, until the very end, when the two screens for the first time join in a single image.

I wish I could say that the play’s culmination is worth the investment of the slow buildup or that the enjoyment of art, as life, is in the journey, but on this ride, I would have gotten off around Reims.

The Unexpected Man is performed Fridays & Saturdays at 8 pm, and Sundays at 3 pm through March 28, 2010

The Lounge Theatre 2 is located at 6201 Santa Monica Blvd. in Hollywood, just east of Vine

Ticket are $20. Reservations online at www.plays411.com/unexpectedman or by phone at (323) 960-7785.

(Full Disclosure: Slaughter City was produced by one of LATR’s newest writers, Ashley Steed.)

According to the program notes by director Barbara Kallir, Slaughter City, now playing at Son of Semele, is a play about how relevant the case for collective action and working class solidarity still is today.  This is a valid and apt theme, but it doesn’t seem the play really is about that.  Yes, the management is trying to break the union in the slaughter house where it takes place, but the production and script seem to be more about examining the difference between Us and Them.  The Us is always informed.  The Them never is.  However, who Us is and who Them is changes from moment to moment.  It is Workers and Bosses, Blacks and Whites, Male and Female, Union and Scab, Educated and Not, Monied and Poor.  Even Human and Animal and Mortal and Immortal.

The play is sometimes surreal and dreamlike, sometimes exceedingly graphic and realistic.  A young man named Cod, a scab initially shunned by the rest of the workers, (played by Noelle Messier) becomes the loudest union activist, even to the detriment of his fellow employees.  He also has several secrets, one of which is that he has been made an immortal being whose mother died trying to escape a fire in a non-unionized factory in the early nineteen hundreds.  He is in thrall to an odd “Sausage Man” from whom he desperately wants to divest himself.

The Sausage Man, a difficult part very well played by Alexander Wells, carries most of the symbolism of the script.  He is, both literally and figuratively, taking the scraps and making sausage out of them, taking what’s left over and making something useful out of it.

Everyone has their secrets.  It is no surprise when child abuse and sexual harassment come in to play, they are this generation’s go to place for conflict and background motivation.  There are, however, a couple of surprising secrets which I won’t reveal here.

There is much to like about this production.  The sound design, by Joseph “Sloe” Slawinski, is magnificent.  It is never intrusive, usually evocative, sometimes surreal, often odd and always organic to the moment.  The music, composed by Andrew Ingkavet and directed by Matthew McCray, is appropriate and evocative.  The lighting, designed by Barbara Kallir and Jonathan CK Williams, is exquisite, especially given how few instruments they have at their disposal.  The set, by Sarah Krainin, is very good, although the animal carcasses hanging everywhere (designed by Janne Larsen) are a little too obviously cloth, lacquer and wire.  Perhaps that was a conscious choice.

The play itself, and, more to the point, the direction and acting, do not live up to the tech.  The three main killing floor workers are played by Sarah Boughton, Christopher Emerson and Christina Ogundade.  Ms. Ogundade as Roach does have some wonderful and affecting moments and her anger at life in general and love for her best friend are quite genuine.  Ms. Boughton as the hard bitten Maggot obviously understands that her character is what most would consider “Poor White Trash” but tends toward the “If you don’t quite know what you’re doing, do it with intensity” style of acting.  Mr. Emerson is quite good looking but a bit miscast as the unpredictable, dangerous but talented cutter, Brandon.  He has moments on stage that speak more to his willingness as an actor to give his performance over to complete abandon than to the internal torment of the outwardly charming character.  It is also hard to believe that this almost Tom Cruise-like young man has spent any time at all doing the hard labor required of a slaughter house worker.

Baquin, the manager of the plant and mouth-piece for the corporation, is an empty, blustering, dandy overflowing with pompous machismo, played by Bart Petty.  Elizabeth Clemmons plays the dream-like Textile Worker with an almost permanent, empty smile.  Brent Jennings plays Tuck, the floor manager, who worked himself up from laborer to management but is still conflicted by his advancement.  (It always bothers me when a story seems to be saying, don’t strive, don’t try to advance beyond your station because, in doing so, you will have sold out.  I say advance as far as you can in life.  But that’s just me.)

The staging is odd and inconsistent.  It runs from extremely realistic portrayals of anger, passion and violence supported by extremely realistic set and props (cloth carcasses notwithstanding) to odd pantomime indications of actions that don’t quite evoke the difficult work of the killing floor and strange, choreographed unison movements that sort of evoke a dream-like trance but often feel out of place.

The costumes, by Laura Wong, are good, although much is made in the script about the Sausage Man having “triple stitched” suit, better than the “double stitched” one of the boss, but in reality, the suit Mr. Petty as the boss wears is exquisitely tailored and Mr. Wells as the Sausage Man’s suit is rumpled, pedestrian and old.

Slaughter City is performed Fridays and Saturdays at 8 pm and Sundays at 7 pm through March 21st, 2010.  There will be Monday night performances at 8 pm on March 8th and 15th.  There is no performance on Sunday, March 7th.

Son of Semele Theatre  is located at 3301 Beverly Blvd., Silver Lake, CA 90004, just east of Virgil and a mile west of Alvarado.

Ticket prices: $20.00

Reservations online at www.sonofsemele.org.

Edward Allan Baker’s “sibling plays,” Dolores and North of Providence, now playing at Stephanie Feury Studio Theatre, may need to pull back for being a bit too fraternal. From production design to directing, writing to performance, twin themes and dramatic flaws unfolded like zygotes, multiplying and dividing to create a discomfiting headache of an evening. Unlike charming twins, full of the cultivated wit from years of familiarity and shared storytelling, the two pieces felt disjointed, flat, and alienating. From glass shattering to finger pointing, the plays exhausted their grotesque qualities, leaving little joy to redeem them.

The problem, it seems, lies in the production’s inability to define just what story they mean to be telling in the first place. In Dolores, two sisters from an abusive upbringing exhibit the ways they now physically and mentally abuse, and are abused. Dolores (Katie Kocis) yearns to escape her violent third husband, while Sandra (Christine Ostrander) realizes her simple home life is less than ideal. In a dramatic twist involving a gun and Ronald Reagan, the two are reconciled in their disgust and courage, striking a dramatic tableau as the lights fade. In North of Providence, Bobbie and Carol (Michael Maize and Jodi Rosenthal), united by their father’s impending death by cirrhosis, finally divulge what led to the mental and material breakdown of their family years ago. One gun, plenty of street names, and a whole lot of folded laundry later, they reconcile for a spot-lit hug, and the lights fade.

I don’t necessarily hate tableaus, but the problem with such a bold choice is that the proceeding action must be so compelling, so full, that only such staging could do justice to that moment. In this instance, I still hadn’t figured out why the playwright or director- or company, for that matter, chose to divulge  stories of abuse and self-neglect without contextualizing them first. The actors were interesting and played their parts with intensity, but between the constant direction to pace the room, arranging articles of mess, hinting at real behavior, and the all-too-brief moments of playfulness and sanity, I was lost. The audience needed to come up for air, feel sympathy, relate to the characters – anything! But then the show ended, and a final, inconclusive, now four-person tableau flashed again. I hoped a residual rush of insight would come, but days later I still can’t find it.

Baker’s portrait of mid 80’s Rhode Island is a meager, disillusioned one. One could relate the hopelessness and inability to obtain accountability to the current fiscal and political atmosphere.  The stories of abuse could engage the audience in a revelation on past personal transgressions. The playful sibling outbreaks could remind us of the strength and joy in a fully realized familial bond. Instead, in SFS’s production the allusions and action remain mere plot points, deepening the dynamic of individual character motivations but ultimately feeling overwhelmingly irrelevant.

I don’t mean to say theatre must appeal to one sensation or another. Theatre can and should astound the audience. But when shock value is more distancing than resonant, the audience is left behind, curious as to why they were invited along for the story in the first place.

Dolores and North of Providence are accented by Nora Wilde’s bold, humorously detailed costuming and an enjoyable music and sound design.

Dolores and North of Providence are performed Wednesdays, Fridays and Saturdays at 8 pm. through March 27, 2010.  There will be no performance on Saturday, March 20th.

SFS Theatre  is located at 5636 Melrose Ave.,  Los Angeles, CA  90004, between Gower and Larchmont.

Ticket prices: $15.00.

Reservations online at www.sfstheatre.com or by phone at 323 463-7378.

Living in Los Angeles has afforded me the guilty pleasure of meeting countless has-been actors from all levels of bygone fame (especially in bars.)  All of them have one thing in common: a connection to a show or a director or another actor who actually made it and probably no longer returns their phone calls.  Still, these afflicted never-wases cling to that shred of unfulfilled destiny and drop names at every convenience to bail out their own deflating self worth.  In Barbra’s Wedding, now showing at the Blank’s 2nd Stage Theatre, playwright Daniel Stern (the actor of Home Alone fame) has captured the pathetic ghost of showbiz past and made a funny little play out of it.

The play takes place on the day of Barbra Streisand’s star-studded wedding to James Brolin.  Mary Beth Evans and Wilson Green play a married couple who live conspicuously next door to the festivities and yet were not invited.  Molly (Evans) isn’t bothered by this at all, while Jerry (Green) spends the entire play obsessing over the perceived snub.  Jerry was an actor on a show which doesn’t even run on Nick at Nite, but having built his world around the businesses he has given up on any other possibility of happiness.  He fawns over a picture of  himself and Robert Redford like my grandmother treasures an item blessed by the pope.  It’s a familiar affliction and easy to understand (the preoccupation with celebrity, not the pope), and Evans and Green both play the crowd nicely.

Brent Mason’s set is well done; he captures the feel of a tiny house on a posh beach somewhere just waiting to be torn down and replaced with a McMansion.  The sound of helicopters swoops in and out of the scene, but with the lack of ambient noise, it feels too interruptive.  Overall, the production is light and entertaining, a fun way to pass the time until your agent finally calls you back with news about the reunion show.  (fingers crossed)

Barbra’s Wedding is produced by Michelle Appezzato and Studio C Artists.  The play is written by Daniel Stern and directed by John Coppola.  Set design by Brent Mason, lighting by Rachel Levy, sound by Warren Davis and costumes by Rob Saduski.  The stage manager is Alex Nicholas.

Barbra’s Wedding is performed Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays at 8 pm and Sundays at 2 pm through March 7, 2010

The Blank’s 2nd Stage Theatre is located at 6500 Santa Monica Blvd., Hollywood, 90038 on Theatre Row at Wilcox.

Ticket prices $20.00

Tickets are available online at www.barbraswedding.com or by phone at (966) 811-4111

Creative design and black humor triumph again in the very entertaining new comedy Wirehead, now in performance by the Echo Theater Company at STAGE 52.  The plot is familiar Phillip K. Dick material, and the story has its serious moments, but for the most part director Larry Biederman has gone beyond the script to lift this cyberpunk parable into a fun night of theater.  His cast excels with the material, they maintain a serious tone throughout the absurd psychopathy and never let the knife-in-back turn to tongue-in-cheek.  The result is a gory tale of technology and prejudices gone amok.

Jeremy Maxwell and Marc Rose star as the primary players in an intended murder spree against a growing population of folks with artificially-enhanced brain function.  Their interplay has an ex-frat boy tone that stays earnest and fresh even during the most ridiculous of setups.  Ethan Phillips (Trekkie Alert, can you guess who he played?) voices an aging 60’s radical whose radio show provides the play’s episodic format some breathing room.

Set designer Efren Delgadillo Jr. puts to work fluorescent lighting, overhead projection, frosted windows and other common spartan office decor in making this world-to-come.  The design steals the show, turns the awkward space at STAGE 52 into a variety of rooms at home and the office, all anchored by stainless steel and glass tables and lifeless artificial light.  His hero pieces are a real treat and, along with some messy prop design, make the show’s gleeful violence possible. Science fiction is generally a tough genre for the stage, but Echo shows that with enough humor and blood, you can get away with pretty much anything.

Wirehead is produced by the Echo Theater Company.  The play is written by Matthew Benjamin & Logan Brown and directed by Larry Biederman,  Set design by Elfren Delgadillo, Jr, lights by Dan Weingarten, costumes by Audrey Eisner, and sound by Drew Dalzell.  The production stage manager is Lara E. Nall.

Wirehead is performed Fridays and Saturdays at 8 pm, Sundays at 7 pm through March 14, 2010

Stage 52 is located at 5299 W. Washington Blvd, west of La Brea between Redondo and Hauser.

Ticket prices$20