Theater review: 'Noises Off' at A Noise Within

Producing “Noises Off,” Michael Frayn’s 1982 farce within a farce, is not for the faint of heart.  The show calls for a dauntingly elaborate set, massive set changes over two intermissions, and a serendipitous conjunction of director, actors, designers and techies, all of whom must meet the comedy’s frenetic demands without a lapse.

The necessary requirements are blissfully exceeded in the current production at A Noise Within.  Cavorting on Adam Lillibridge’s Broadway-ready set, director Geoff Elliott and a superb cast hit the banana peel running and never let up.

In this case, slimy spilled sardines substitute, malodorously, for the banana peel. That’s appropriate, considering that “Nothing On,” the play-within-this-play, is a low-rent sex comedy that could be mounted on a Siberian glacier and still stink on ice.

The first act revolves around an ill-fated dress rehearsal just hours shy of opening. Act II takes us backstage a month into the tour.  And we’re back onstage in Act III for closing night, a disaster of Chernobyl-esque proportions.

It doesn’t help that Dotty Otley (Deborah Strang), the show’s cue-challenged star, couldn’t remember a line if it were tattooed on her forearm. But the real problem is backstage hanky-panky. Director Lloyd Dallas (played by director Elliott in neatly ironic casting) has been carrying on with vapid bombshell  Brooke (Emily Kosloski) and naive stage manager Poppy (Lenne Klingaman).  Dotty’s jealous lover, Garry Lejeune (Mikael Salazar, in a particularly riotous turn), has it in for Frederick (Stephen Rockwell), a clueless Method wannabe who has gotten overly cozy with Dotty. Gossip-extraordinaire Belinda (Jill Hill) fans the flames with reports of salacious scandal.  And the entire company, including hard-pressed jack-of-all-trades Tim (Shaun Anthony) keeps constant tabs on doddering drunk Selsdon (Apollo Dukakis), who is always on the brink of a bender.

Frayn’s wryly reductive classic gives us a behind-the-scenes glimpse of a theatrical hothouse, where titanic egos and meager talents clash, hilariously.  In a smoothly trouble-free production, Elliott and company bake the turkey to a golden brown, just in time for your holiday enjoyment.

– F. Kathleen Foley

“Noises Off,” A Noise Within, 234 S. Brand Blvd., Glendale. $40-$44.  In repertory.  Ends Dec. 20.  Call (818) 240-0910 Ext. 1 for dates and times.  Running time:  2 hours, 30 minutes.

Photo: Deborah Strang, Jill Hill and Emily Kosloski. Photo credit: Craig Schwartz.

Theater review: 'Carbon Black' at the Autry

Woody Allen once said, “Paranoia is knowing all the facts.”

For single mother Sylvie Black (Sheila Tousey), the lesson in harsh reality began four years ago.  Viciously attacked on her way home from work, Sylvie has not left her apartment since, and spends her time watching dire news reports that fuel her terror.  Her son and sole companion, Carbon (Michael Drummond), now 13, has become the family provider, eking out their meager means and trolling the trash to supplement any shortcomings.  It’s a grinding responsibility and hearing a little girl murdered outside his squalid apartment has put Carbon on a dangerous edge.

Terry Gomez’s “Carbon Black,” which launches the 10th season of the Native Voices series at the Autry National Center, is an imperfect but ravaging parable about the terrible weight that too many modern-day children are forced to shoulder before their time. If that sounds bleak, it is.  Yet in a deft staging, director Randy Reinholz ferrets out the humor in Gomez’s drama, particularly the playful interaction between Sylvie and Carbon – a loving but onerous bond that Carbon must break to survive.

Theater review: 'Better Angels' at the Colony Theatre

Based on a little-known historical incident, Wayne Peter Liebman’s “Better Angels,” now in its West Coast premiere at the Colony, is a scrupulously researched and respectful drama that appropriately honors the Lincoln bicentennial.  As far as vibrant new theater goes, however, the play is a tad rusty.

   In Victoria Profitt’s strangely rudimentary scenic design, a backdrop of vari-colored mountains' majesty sets off Lincoln’s sparsely furnished White House office. Seen at the height of his war presidency, a beleaguered Lincoln (James Read) receives a visit from Cordelia Harvey (McKerrin Kelly), the recently widowed wife of Wisconsin’s governor, who petitions Lincoln to approve a Northern hospital for the war wounded.  Seen in both 1909 and 1863, Lincoln’s loyal amanuensis and later biographer, John Hay (David Dean Bottrell), serves as on-the-spot observer and retrospective narrator of the ongoing discussion between the president and Mrs. Harvey, a charged dialectic underscored by an unspoken romantic frisson.

Theater review: 'The Value of Names' at West Coast Jewish Theatre

As Roman Polanski is well aware, time does not heal all wounds. Certain actions, no matter how distant or deftly rationalized, can haunt one through a lifetime.

Legendary Hollywood director Leo Greshen, the antagonist in Jeffrey Sweet’s flawed but compelling drama “The Value of Names,” presented by the West Coast Jewish Theatre at the Pico Playhouse, understands that well. Thirty years previously, Leo (authoritative, vigorous Malachi Throne) appeared before the House Un-American Activities Committee, denouncing several contemporaries, including his best friend, actor Benny Silverman (Peter Mark Richman), with whom he shared a friendship dating to their early days in theater.

Theater review: 'Meet Me in St. Louis' by Fake Radio at the Lost Theater

Fake Radio, Los Angeles’ “premiere old-time radio comedy troupe,” launches its new season of radio reenactments with “Meet Me in St. Louis,” a truncated radio adaptation of the 1944 film that first aired on the Lux Radio Theater in late 1946.

“St. Louis,” co-produced and directed by David Koff, who also performs, plays in repertory with “The Philadelphia Story” and “The Lone Ranger,” and features a rotating cast of guest stars — as do all the shows. Last weekend, the headliner was Phil Proctor from the old Firesign Theatre comedy group.
Slickly professional in every particular, this production features an adept cast of voice performers that clusters around a bank of fixed microphones, while sound designer Dan Foegelle provides the requisite creaks, beeps and thuds so crucial to the fun.

A singing trio opens the bill, followed by a quickie dramatization from “The Adventures of Superman,” featuring the formidably funny Dave Cox as the Man of Steel. Tongue-in-cheek commercial breaks for sponsor Lux Soap punctuate the action.

Proctor and his wife, Melinda Peterson, play the married patriarch and matriarch of the piece — a sweet touch in a notably sweet show. As Esther Smith, arguably Judy Garland’s most memorable screen performance, dulcet-voiced Julie Millet courageously follows in Garland’s footsteps in a surprisingly pleasing turn. Also surprising, Proctor proves a stand-out singer in his single musical number.

However, during the opening weekend, this almost reverentially exact re-creation seemed to be a bit lacking in sheer goofiness. A shorter running time and a few more acid quips would help make this enjoyable evening truly memorable.

— F. Kathleen Foley

“Meet Me in St. Louis,” Fake Radio at the Lost Studio, 130 S. La Brea Ave., Los Angeles. 8 p.m. Saturdays. Ends Oct. 24. $20. (877) 460-9774. www.fakeradio.net. Running time: 2 hours, 20 minutes.

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Theater review: 'The Matchmaker' at Victory Theatre Center

Thornton Wilder, notable for winning Pulitzers for a novel and two plays, was a theatrical experimenter whose most arguably conventional work is “The Matchmaker,” a sweetly rendered Valentine to 1890s New York.

Of course, Wilder’s gentle comedy about the inimitable Dolly Gallagher Levi, an Irish-born yenta who eases the path of various romances while angling to hook her own rich husband, later became source material for the massive musical hit, “Hello, Dolly!” But whereas the musical remains an unapologetic star vehicle for the reigning divas of the day, the play is far more egalitarian, a rich aggregation of innocents and eccentrics, many of whom break the fourth wall to directly address the audience.

Theater review: 'Three Sisters' at the Odyssey Theatre

Director Jack Stehlin doesn’t strive for revisionism in Chekhov’s “Three Sisters” at the Odyssey Theatre.  However, although his staging is hardly ground-breaking, it is well-paced, satisfying and solid down to the ground.

Over the various acts, Kitty Rose’s scenic design dwindles from cozy parlor to bare atelier to a stark and empty stage strewn with an autumnal fall of red leaves.  It’s a vivid visual metaphor for the play’s progression of inexorable loss.

As is typical with Chekhov, the various characters have their heads in the clouds and their feet in fast-drying cement.  Incapable of jumping off the tracks, they are content to discuss the velocity of the onrushing train.

Theater review: 'Solitude' at Los Angeles Theatre Center

Swelling with art, heart and high style, “Solitude,” a Latino Theater Company production at the Los Angeles Theatre Center, examines the human imperatives of love in all its painful permutations.

Evelina Fernández’s world-premiere play was largely inspired by Octavio Paz’s “The Labyrinth of Solitude,” a landmark work positing that the conflict between Mexico’s indigenous and Spanish cultures had split the collective Mexican psyche in two, with an outward “mask” of conviviality concealing inner despair.

Honoring that duality, director José Luis Valenzuela pitches the tone midway between funeral and festival.  Scenes are punctuated with sensual dance sequences in which the performers, under the able guidance of choreographer Urbanie Lucero, spin in solo orbits of movement, a sort of solipsistic tango that underscores the mood.

Most isolated of the lot is Gabriel (Geoffrey Rivas), a wealthy lawyer who returns to his impoverished Latino neighborhood for the funeral of his mother, whom he has not seen in 20 years. François-Pierre Couture’s sparely elegant yet sterile set is the perfect milieu for the funeral reception where the bulk of the action transpires.  There, Gabriel, who is trapped in a loveless marriage to Sonia (Lucy Rodríguez), struggles to reconnect with those he left behind, including Johnny (wonderfully earthy Sal López), the best friend he left without a word of farewell, and his first love, Ramona (Fernández), whose adult son, Angel (Fidel Gomez), just may be Gabriel’s.

Connecting the dots of Fernández’s expansive themes is a mysterious Man (sexy, funny Robert Beltran in the show’s linchpin performance), a limo driver and self-described lovemaking expert who frequently quotes directly from Paz, accompanied by Semyon Kolbialka’s indispensable live cello music.  Granted, the play occasionally detours into sentimentality, but its heartfelt emotional core, coupled with Valenzuela’s superb staging, make “Solitude” a shared pleasure.

--F. Kathleen Foley

“Solitude,” LATC, 514 S. Spring St., Los Angeles.  8 p.m. Thursdays-Fridays, 3 and 8 p.m. Saturdays, 3 p.m. Sundays.  Ends Oct. 4.  $35.  (213) 489-0994, Ext. 107.  Running time:  2 hours, 30 minutes.

Photo: Robert Beltran, Semyon Kolbialka and Fidel Gomez in "Solitude." Credit: Ed Krieger

Theater review: 'Ruby, Tragically Rotund' at LATC

Director Jon Lawrence Rivera, longtime head of Playwrights’ Arena, helms one of the most genuinely eccentric productions of the season in “Ruby, Tragically Rotund,” Boni B. Alvarez’s  world premiere at the Los Angeles Theatre Center. Mostly, that’s a good thing, but we are ultimately victims of a bait-and-switch.

The play starts out as a lighthearted comedy about Ruby (delightful Ellen D. Williams), a “big girl” of Filipina descent whose spirit is as big as her bountiful body. Ruby is hounded to “reduce” by her slim mother, Edwina (Fran de Leon), who dotes on Ruby’s slender sister, Jemmalyn (Marc Pelina, oddly but amusingly in drag).

Ruby’s slenderness-challenged gal pals, played by Regan Carrington, Alison M. De La Cruz and Angel Felix, act as a perky Greek chorus, commenting on the action in flawless unison. The comic stakes are raised when Ruby, hoping to win a college scholarship, competes against her sis in the Miss Sunnyvale beauty pageant.

Theater review: 'Much Ado About Nothing' at Old L.A. Zoo

The resourceful folks at the newly formed Vesper Theater Company could have second careers as location scouts.  The most captivating aspect of “Much Ado About Nothing,” the group’s first outdoor Shakespeare production, intended as a yearly event, is the locale – just outside the abandoned bear caves at the old L.A. Zoo in Griffith Park.

Aptly and wittily dubbed “Shakespeare on the Rocks”  -- a reference to the cascading man-made boulders that surround the caves – this initial offering, directed by Tim Landfield, is rough-edged but nonetheless charming, a propitious launch that bodes well for future endeavors.

Of course, Shakespeare’s dark comedy about a young Italian gentlewoman falsely accused of fornication at her own wedding is most famous for the delightfully acid repartee between the bride’s sharp-witted kinswoman, Beatrice (appealingly feisty Courtnie Sauls), and her equally caustic admirer, Benedick (authoritative Corey MacIntosh), who circle around each another like angry cranes in a mating ritual.

As is the problem with many local Shakespearean productions, certain actors are somewhat overwhelmed by the language, which suffers from occasional mush-mouthiness.  However, there are excellent performances to be found, particularly Patrick Blakely’s suave Don Pedro, a well-meaning nobleman misled by his scheming bastard brother, Don John (effectively brooding John Dimitri) and Ben Stranahan’s Leonato, an outraged father whose emotions, upon hearing his daughter decried as a “stale,” run the gamut from confusion to dismay to righteous wrath.

--F. Kathleen Foley

“Much Ado About Nothing,” Old L.A. Zoo on Griffith Park Drive.  3:30 p.m. Saturdays and Sundays.  Ends Oct. 11.  Suggested donation $10.  (323) 207-6365.  Running time:  2 hours, 20 minutes

Photo: Corey MacIntosh, left, and Courtnie Sauls in "Much Ado About Nothing." Credit: Chris Collins