‘HOME ENTERTAINMENT’: A ONE-MAN HOUSE PARTY

Remember the guy in school who was so utterly brilliant, so completely far out that no one knew what to do with him? What college would take someone like this? What in the world would he do with his life ?

The inventive and all-around theatrical nut case, Steven Banks, has brought precisely this guy to life in “Steven Banks’ Home Entertainment Center,” at the Chamber Theatre.

Actually, since the character’s name is “Steven Banks,” we begin to wonder if Banks himself isn’t the kook out of our past.

An evening that follows our subject around a suburban living room, as he doodles on this instrument and that, plays with his toy cowboys and Indians, or tries to get a writing project going, may not sound very promising. But it’s perhaps the sheer nerve and audacity of the show itself (that this is enough on which to string a play of sorts) that gives this piece a special glow.

It draws us in on two levels at once. Banks’ timing and sense of pacing and linking one bit of nonsense to another really will not hit home until you’ve left the theater. But we’re not only taken by how excellent this unemployable goof is on an endless list of string and percussion instruments, but how he can keep stumbling across yet another distraction in this living room of playthings.

Which leads us to the other level.

Steve gets phone calls (sometimes in the middle of a killer drum solo) from people who want to give him work. But he almost always finds a way to get off the phone before he commits. For this gamely playmaker can’t commit to anything (Banks may lay it on a little thick with some self-improvement tapes he plays). In fact, he seems caught in an eternal vice-grip of procrastination. For such a funny play--and I’ve rarely seen an audience have so much fun--there’s real concern, even tragic undertones here. Does anyone notice that Steve never gets out of his pajamas from the night before?

The voluminous references to rock ‘n’ roll through the play aren’t just there to show off Banks’ knowledge (most of them, to Elvis, the Beatles and Springsteen, are familiar enough). They seem to also codify a generation that can’t get going or can’t make up its mind what to do. After a while, watching this guy stalk the set for another doodad puts a nervous edge on our laughter.

Banks, we’re told, changes numbers in the show every night, but it’s hoped you catch him when he does a ringer version of Bob Dylan. We’re also told that he adapted his act to John Milford’s set, which had been built for a defunct production. Banks uses Milford’s work to create an atmosphere of pure decadent suburbia, as if it were occupied by students on permanent vacation.

Performances at 3759 Cahuenga Blvd. West, Studio City, are Fridays, 8:30 p.m., Saturdays, 7 and 9 p.m., until April 12 (213) 859-2644).