LOW MOAN FARCE : ALMOST NIMBLE BUMBLES IN ‘FOOTLIGHT FRENZY’

“Footlight Frenzy” wants to be what press releases love to describe as “a romp.”

When it opened about six years ago in San Francisco, this Low Moan Spectacular farce (the name of the company, not a review of the play) looked as if all it needed was extra rehearsal time.

Now several outings later, its original cast intact, “Frenzy” has surfaced at the Westwood Playhouse and still looks as if it needs extra rehearsal time. How come?

Two possible answers: Perhaps it still does, and perhaps it’s just supposed to look as if it still does.

After all, our Low Moan Spectacular friends should know what they’re doing. They’ve been quite spectacular on other occasions--notably with “Bullshot Crummond” and, for those who like their theater more broad than satirical, with “El Grande de Coca-Cola.”

“Frenzy” is in the tradition of the latter--broad, broader, broadest. Its nonplot is the quintessential backstage bumble of a neurotic group of PTA parents putting on a play as a school benefit.

Not a bad idea from which to start, provided there is some sort of destination at the end of the pratfalls and some sort of sense of real direction within them. We know what George Kelly did with a similar notion (“The Torchbearers”), and we’ve certainly seen the masterful pyrotechnics of Michael Frayn’s “Noises Off.”

That farcical spoof also took us through the rehearsal, backstage and performance shambles of a provincial English touring company, but it knew how to work it out. It demonstrated, beyond all doubt, that to look like you’re falling apart takes rigorous discipline.

Not that our Low Moan Spectaculars don’t have it when they choose to. They do, as exemplified by Rodger Bumpass as an immensely nimble bumbler in the role of a nerdy stage manager. His virtuoso display of all the possible ways that one can die on stage under a shower of bullets remains a mini-classic in the best Chaplin/Keaton/Skelton traditions.

It’s all the more reason one suspects that the haphazard, ragged look of “Footlight Frenzy” is intentional. But like the dangers posed by having to look bored on stage without being boring, looking disorganized has to be tightly orchestrated. It’s not. Whatever its intent, “Footlight Frenzy” still has the appearance of a rather scattered spoof of amateur theatricals that hasn’t grown, grown up, changed or improved since it started a half-dozen years ago.

Yes, it cleverly provides us with a literal backstage view of passing events (even if the set and wings do flare in the wrong direction--a forgivable cheat for the sake of clearer viewing). When the curtain goes up there is a mechanical audience facing the real one, that even applauds on cue. And the backstage scenario of marriages coming unglued, affairs trying to happen, actors who don’t know their lines, props that fall apart, set pieces that roll on unannounced and actors who fail to show up, ranges from funny to wearing--with the odds favoring wearing.

It is still a one-idea script, which is where the trouble begins. Writers Bud Slocomb, Ron House, Alan Shearman and Diz White (the last three of whom are Spectacular stalwarts and play key roles in “Frenzy”) have developed a string of word and/or visual gags, but have neglected to create real characters behind them. Without those, the gags seem rudderless. They spring from the thinnest air. The “Frenzy” in the title is merely frantic and, because the one-joke plot remains so undeveloped, it becomes overextended.

Richard Marion’s direction offers nothing more or less than Douglas Johnson’s did in San Francisco six years ago, which points even more persuasively to fundamental problems in the writing. A further tip lies in the fact that the seasoned actors--White, House, Shearman, Bumpass, Ron Vernan and Anna Mathias--work entirely too hard at being funny.

Mary Moore’s set design is purposely tacky and ingenious, with costumes by Gail Viola to match. (Moore or Viola also must be responsible for one of the cleverest ideas for a pet dog on stage.)

Buddy Tobie did the functional lighting and Gary Mascaro is credited with musical staging--of which there is one number, which happens to be one of the better moments in the play.

Altogether, though, it’s a perilously mixed bag. But fair is fair: Wednesday’s audience seemed to be having a jolly time.

Performances at 10886 LeConte Ave. in Westwood run Tuesdays through Saturdays, 8 p.m.; Sundays 7:30 p.m., with matinees Saturdays and Sundays at 2:30 p.m. Ends May 10. Tickets: $17.50-$22.50 (213-208-5454 or 213-410-1062).