‘CASTLES’ SITS ON FOUNDATION OF SAND

If you were in the shoes of a nice family like Glen, Ginger and Kim and their friends, Stephen and Carol, would you stay on a plot of beach populated with drug dealers, hookers, freaked-out surfers, vagrants, the occasional mobster and cop and other strange human detritus?

Of course not: You’d pick up the beach towels and pizza and sidle your way down to an open, safer patch.

But if you’re playwright Adele Edling Shank’s characters, it seems, the notion never crosses your mind--even when things get really creepy, as they do in “Sand Castles,” at the Fig Tree Theatre. Shank’s work is built on such easily eroded supports that, were she to allow her family to do the sensible thing, there would be no play.

Instead, Stephen (Scott Palmer) becomes allured to the mystique of Iris (Julia Nickson), who reads Neruda and seems in command of this beachfront. The innocent Kim (Lauren Berman) beams in on surfer Andy (David Preston), who’s decent but seems to be in some trouble, not like The Aussie (Jeff Weston, who pulls off the notable stunt of playing five very different beach people, all of them silently effective), who’s a loose cannon. Later, Stephen becomes curious about Anemone (Nori Morgan), the hard-bitten daughter of the local hooker (Astral Kolence).

Glen and Ginger (Jack Radel and Carol Vogel) blithely let Kim run around loose in this urban hell-by-the-sea. Like us, Anemone the realist can’t believe it, and tells Kim to “go back to the suburbs,” which is Shank’s favorite California milieu (this is one of her six “California plays”). Perhaps we’re to infer from such parental neglect that suburbs turn people into mental ciphers. But that is being kinder than any dramaturge would be to this material.

What can be finally said about this play also goes for John Megna’s production: Concept is all; worry about logic later. Whether Shank’s or Megna’s idea, having characters at any given moment stare frozen out to sea is the kind of laugh-inducing strained seriousness that belongs in a college workshop. The cast, incredibly, works hard at being flat and wooden, as if dictated by some aesthetic of boredom. One concept works: Eric H. Warren’s detail-rich set, a kind of living photo of a real city beach.

Performances at 6539 Santa Monica Blvd., (213) 389-3200, Thursdays through Sundays, 8 p.m. Ends Sept. 13.

‘OTHER PEOPLE’S PROBLEMS’

A dramaturge might take even less kindly to Rich Orloff and his rag-tag collection of playlets, “Other People’s Problems,” comprising Series C in the Ensemble Studio Theatre’s EST/LA Marathon ’86. Invariably, Orloff either compresses interesting possibilities down to nutritionless bite-size pieces (as in “Why Emily Needs That Outfit”), or stretches empty-headed notions past the breaking point (such as--this title says volumes--”Four Extremely Attractive Women Sitting Around Fantasizing About Rich Orloff”).

Orloff is most revealing when exploring modern Jewish problems in “Live and Be Well” and “Stevie Goldsmith Faces the Day of Atonement Unprepared” (Glenn Shadix provides the evening’s only memorable performance as Stevie). But, as with all these playlets, the abbreviated length simply short-circuits any comic energy.

No fewer than four directors--Natasha Lubin, Jacque Lynn Colton, Scott Reiniger and Tom Herod--helm the bare-bones production, which suffers from a case of the cutes and TV-style acting. An example of the former, and perhaps the show’s ultimate self-comment, is the dramaturge credit--”Bessie the Cow.”

Performances at 1089 N. Oxford Ave., (‘213) 466-2916, Fridays through Sundays, 8 p.m. Ends Aug. 24.

‘TWELFTH NIGHT’

Viola’s wonderful, devious adventure in “Twelfth Night,” in which the limits of familial bonds and passions are tested to the fullest, is among Shakespeare’s sturdiest comedies, able to endure even the onslaughts of downtown Los Angeles. If you wander by Pershing Square around 4 p.m. any Saturday or Sunday between now and Aug. 31, you’re likely to encounter an alien presence: Colorful, sometimes inspired performers putting a breezy “Twelfth Night” through its paces.

Presented by Al’s National Theatre (care of downtown’s state-of-the-edge Al’s Bar), Ben Donenberg’s summery production, directed by Kevin Kelley, tells the story well and (considering the local noise pollution) remarkably audibly. Dana Stevens’ Viola is immediately likeable and intelligent, while Michael Adler’s Malvolio is a perfectly silly ego stripped bare. The pacing on the four-tiered stage speaks to thoughtful rehearsal, as if this isn’t a one-time fling in the park.

Indeed, Al’s National Theatre wants to make this a regular summer event, called “Shakespeare on the Square,” along with the art exhibits and other music and dance performances that compose “Sunday In The Park With Art.” Let’s hope so; but something must be done to shade the audience (a la Theatricum Botanicum). A reminder: Bring a beach chair (better than a blanket for the view) and a non-perishable food item--the admission charge--to be distributed to downtown’s homeless.