STAGE REVIEW : PIERCE’S ROUGE GALLERY

I like the description of Charles Pierce in the handout for his “Not a Well Woman” at the Henry Fonda Theatre--”a master impostor.”

Most impostors, however, don’t want to be caught at it. Pierce demands to be. Illusion isn’t his thing. Half the fun of his Bette Davis (or Mae West, or Joan Collins, or Carol Channing) is the realization that it’s a guy in drag. A witty guy who adores the self-importance of his legendary ladies, but who also gets impatient with their demands. Oh, come off it, girls, Mr. Pierce seems to be saying. Nobody’s that exotic.

Pierce’s new show--which doesn’t sound too different from his old show--is officially described as “outrageous.” It starts with a spoof of the generic Hollywood blond (including Marilyn) and ends with a cocktail party at Bette’s house, featuring Tallulah.

We also chat with Kate Hepburn, in wimple, and Joan Collins, in twin-pack ermines. Mae West shows up as well, with her hairdo as improbable as ever. “I don’t know what I’m doing up here,” Mae mutters. “I’ve been dead for five years.”

The first impression of each lady is amusing and apt, but Pierce doesn’t work terribly hard to keep the impression up. His aim seems to be to remind us of Bette, Mae, etc., rather than to put us in their presence.

Underneath their feathers and furs (pure Dynel), we are not allowed to lose sight of the mischievous Mr. Pierce. If he writes his own lines--and he at least passes on them--he is indeed a witty man. “I drink to pass the time away until I get drunk” isn’t just the sort of thing that Bette might have said in “All About Eve”; it’s funnier than anything she did say.

However, “Not a Well Women”--my first Pierce show--was something of a disappointment on Tuesday night. The sound was bad, Pierce’s timing was off, and there was too much reliance on being outrageous--which, in the context of the jaded 1980s, Pierce isn’t.

Bitchy camp humor, once restricted to gay clubs, is as available these days as the latest Joan Rivers monologue--and Joan, actually being female, can afford to be bitchier than Pierce can be (or, as a gentleman, may want to be).

Moreover, Mae’s mention of her own demise reminded us that many of Pierce’s ladies are, as they say, getting up there. Although it’s clear that his intention is celebratory, it’s a bit sad-making to see some of his legends being spoofed--we’re aware of how mortality is taking its toll.

Another problem: Lily Tomlin reminded us last week how disciplined and organic a one-person show can be. Pierce’s show is really a nightclub act, calling for ringside tables and drinks and a certain midnight tolerance. The squeaky microphone and the slipping false eyelash would add to the rowdiness there. On a theater stage at 9 p.m. it looks sloppy.

All in all, “Not a Well Woman” could use a director, someone to shape things up and to challenge the material. Pierce has been at it since 1954, but he’s still a comparatively young performer, and one doesn’t want to see him go the way of his legends. What, for example, has he got to say about women today? Imagine him, for instance, as one of those female radio psychologists.

He plays at 8 p.m. today through Friday, 7:30 and 10:30 p.m. Saturday and 7 p.m. Sunday at 6126 Hollywood Blvd., (213) 410-1062.