STAGE REVIEWS : ‘Brighton Beach’

The world of late-1930s Brooklyn--with its threat of war overseas and brooding Depression times at home--is nicely realized in Orange Coast College’s inviting “Brighton Beach Memoirs.”

Director John Ferzacca has managed to make Neil Simon’s sentimental autobiographical play about the life-weary but rich-spirited Jerome family not only very funny but also moving. In other productions, “Brighton Beach” has been done solely for the giggles, as a sort of Jewish slice-of-life sitcom.

But the comedy also has its share of thoughtful themes--the frustration of American Jews unable to help relatives in Hitler’s Europe, the psyche-rattling hardships faced by the very poor, the losing fight to maintain dignity in the face of daily compromises--and Ferzacca presents them faithfully.

Nor is this accomplished at the expense of the humor. There are plenty of wry laughs--further credit to Ferzacca and his ability to maintain a balance between comedy and pathos.

That equanimity is also evident in the acting, which is, except for small lapses here and there, very good. Simon looked to his own adolescence to draw the central character of Eugene, the Jerome clan’s precocious 15-year-old clown. It’s a star-maker role--Eugene is not only the focus of most of the action, he also is an omniscient narrator offering opinions on his family throughout the play. The character presents a wealth of opportunities, and Steven Shults exploits them skillfully.

His Eugene is uncommonly bright, a touch irritating and exceedingly likable as he confesses his most innermost thoughts, from his lust for his cousin Nora (Melissa Meola) to his obsessive dislike of liver and cabbage.

Eugene’s exchanges with his older brother, Stanley (Rob Klemenza), are some of the show’s best--particularly a raunchy but inoffensive discussion of sex, from the joys of masturbation to the horrors of incest. Klemenza comes across as the perfect big brother: worldly, compassionate and a shade heroic.

As Kate, Marcie Ross veers dangerously close to the cliche of a domineering but lovable Jewish mother. Her accent is heavy and a little too pat, but her timing is impeccable, and her “look” (the casual dress held together by the ever-present apron; the hair in a tight, economical bun) seems right.

There’s a bit too much angst furrowing David Schuster’s brow as the suffering father, but he does communicate a feeling of vast responsibility as the family’s anchor. Melissa Meola as Nora is correctly full of girlish conceits, and Janet Newport as her mother Blanche presents the needed air of loneliness. Mandy Goldstein is probably a spunky kid in real life, and that quality shines through her portrayal of Laurie, Blanche’s young daughter.

David Scaglione’s two-tiered set, showing the living room and dining room and an upstairs bedroom, is sensible and well-crafted. The period costumes by Jennifer Colony also show an attention to detail that helps make the production as sharp as it is.