GUARE’S PEOPLE AT PASADENA PLAYHOUSE : McCLANAHAN TRUE TO ‘BLUE LEAVES’

A couple of years ago one of my older relatives told me that it was time for me to “run along now,” because Merv Griffin was coming over to her house with some of his friends.

Ever since then, John Guare’s “The House of Blue Leaves” hasn’t seemed nearly as far-out a comedy as it did in 1971. That also seemed to be the reaction of the Pasadena Playhouse audience Sunday night. We recognize Guare’s cuckoo people these days. We understand why they cracked.

Everybody in “Blue Leaves” is cracked, from the famous movie producer (Dick Gautier) to the obscure zookeeper who thinks he can write songs (Buck Henry). But the only one who is officially cracked is the zookeeper’s wife, affectionately known as Bananas.

It’s a marvelous part, but one hadn’t thought of the play as belonging to Bananas up to now. That’s because one hadn’t seen Rue McClanahan in the role.

Others have played Bananas as a wraith, a tranquilized banshee. This approach can be very effective: One sees why Artie can’t live with her in the old apartment anymore, why he needs to find himself a new girl and a new career before it’s too late.

McClanahan shows us all these things, but also plays Bananas so that we know what’s happening with Bananas. Her problem isn’t that she’s closed-in. She’s a generous soul, pathetically attentive to the other people in the play. She feels an aching need to improve the situation. She’ll put up with Artie’s girlfriend (Chloe Webb). She’ll even cook “hamburgers” (Brillo pads) for them. Just tell her what to do.

The one thing she won’t do is lie. She won’t pretend that Artie doesn’t get his tunes from Irving Berlin. She sees things as they are. And it’s driven her crazy.

Out of the corner of our eye we see the mother in “Long Day’s Journey Into Night”--a pretty, helpless girl who couldn’t carry her burden after a time. But “House of Blue Leaves” isn’t a somber play. It’s a laughing play, the only recourse when the gods hit you in the slats. McClanahan senses it, and never plays the tragedy queen. If she’s painfully funny, “funny” still says it.

It’s a beautifully balanced characterization, the balance seemingly achieved by instinct--not once does McClanahan seem to be acting at us. We do catch Henry doing shtick as Artie (a very dumb gag with a zipper), but in general it’s an interestingly neutral characterization, as if to say that Artie is and probably always was one of those guys to whom life simply happens.

The rest of the cast is up and down. Chloe Webb does far too much as Artie’s chatterbox girlfriend, Bunny. Webb keeps asking for laughs rather than showing us that Bunny has a story, too. On the other hand, Ramon Sheen does much too little with Artie’s crazed son, Ronnie. Rather than a would-be terrorist, he suggests a kid collecting for the paper.

Gautier is first-rate as Billy from Hollywood, a man who feels good about himself even when he’s crying his eyes out for his recently dynamited girlfriend. But Frances Conroy, the girlfriend, strains for effect just as Webb does. Director Tony Abatemarco pushes too hard here.

The three batty nuns on the roof are just right, though--Alma Martinez, Gia Chiumento and, especially, Diana Bellamy as Sister Superior. A nice living pun from costume designer Dwight David Odle: Bellamy’s habit includes a “church key.”

Deborah Raymond’s and Dorian Vernacchio’s set and lighting are flat-footed and dull. Artie and Bananas may live in squalor, but it needn’t be a boring squalor. “The House of Blue Leaves” is a step up from last year’s Playhouse offerings, but there’s still a touch of summer stock about it. Except for McClanahan.

‘THE HOUSE OF BLUE LEAVES’ John Guare’s play, at Pasadena Playhouse. Songs by Guare. Director Tony Abatemarco. Scenery and lighting Deborah Raymond, Dorian Vernacchio. Costumes Dwight Richard Odle. Sound Jon Gottlieb. Production stage manager Joe Cappelli. With Diana Bellamy, Ron Campbell, Gia Chiumento, Frances Conroy, Dick Gautier, Buck Henry, Scott Martin, Alma Martinez, Rue McClanahan, Ramon Sheen, Chloe Webb. Plays Tuesdays-Fridays at 8 p.m., Saturdays at 5 and 9 p.m. and Sundays, 2 and 7 p.m. Tickets (818) 356-PLAY. 39 S. El Molino, Pasadena. Runs indefinitely.