Three One-Acts at McCadden Place Theatre; ‘Outside of the Envelope’ by Nothing’s Sacred; ‘Where Nobody Belongs’ by East West Players

Actors are often anxious and insecure. But so are plenty of other people--which is why “Actors,” three one-acts that examine the anxieties and insecurities of stage actors (at the McCadden Place Theatre), isn’t as insular as it might sound.

In fact, in the second and most probing of the plays, Conrad Bromberg’s “At Home,” it’s the actor’s wife (Mary Jo Kirwan)--a non-thespian--who emerges as the most insecure character of the evening. She has been covering this up--acting, in her own way. But while reading lines with her husband (Michael Eugene Fairman) one evening, one simple remark leads to the unraveling of her performance and possibly their marriage.

The characters in the other two plays are all working in the theater. Yet the backstage dialogue between an old trouper (John Touchstone) and a young leading man (Seth Isler), which makes up the first play, Bromberg’s “Actors,” also resonates beyond the theater. This is a play for anyone who becomes too self-conscious about the task at hand, or anyone who feels too much like an outsider to relax about the task at hand.

The performances in the Bromberg plays, directed by Sandra Fleck, are exceptional. “Anxious I can play,” declares Isler--and he’s right. Touchstone creates a marvelous old coot, though his losses of temper could use a few more sparks. Kirwan unfolds her character with precision, and Fairman delivers an amusing portrait of a consummate worrier.

Unfortunately, the third play, Dennis Connor’s “The Man From the Times Is Coming,” is a silly, hammy backstage comedy that’s unworthy of this cast. Incidentally, the titular newspaper is in Syracuse, not Los Angeles.

Performances are at 1157 N. McCadden Place, Thursdays through Saturdays at 8 p.m., Sundays at 7 p.m., through June 19. Tickets: $7.50-$10; (213) 661-0825.

‘Outside of the Envelope’

Nothing Sacred’s latest comedy revue, “Outside of the Envelope,” confirms this group’s reputation, established last fall, as one of the more accomplished bands of sketch comics in town.

At the center of three sketches in this edition is a very funny Caroline Schlitt: as an unctuous talk show host who interviews two television-brainwashed juvenile delinquents (Mike Capellupo, Susan Nickerson) and their mentor (Jim Ward), as Mrs. Fields preaching her can-do gospel to Squeaky Fromme (Cyndi Strittmatter), and as a desperate soul at a singles bar.

But then each of the seven members of Nothing Sacred (also including Tony Forkush and Tim Maile) is on top of the material; unlike most comedy groups in town, no one is dead weight or appears to be a novice. No doubt this impression is supported by the fact that Nothing Sacred doesn’t do improv--at least not in front of the audience.

The material, written by Warren Bell along with the performers, is at its best when it takes unexpected turns: a stripper starts lecturing her bachelor party clients on feminism, and Mrs. Fields actually makes some headway with Squeaky Fromme. It’s at its worst in the celebrity impersonations of “The George Burns Centennial.”

“The L.A. Weekly Video Edition” neatly skewers that newspaper’s mixture of doctrinaire politics and sex-oriented advertising, but it shouldn’t have to serve as the evening’s grand finale. Director J. Greg De Felice needs to better pace and polish the evening as a whole; the audio sketches during the blackouts don’t always do the job.

Performances are at Theatre/Theater, 1715 Cahuenga Blvd., Fridays at 10:45 p.m., indefinitely. Tickets: $7; (213) 935-3337.

‘Where Nobody Belongs’

“Where Nobody Belongs,” at East West Players, is an example of why the kitchen sink genre sank. Set in prime kitchen-sink time, 1957, it’s three acts of watching a drunken slob (Ernest Harada) abuse his family.

That family includes a put-upon wife (Saachiko), a hostile daughter (Sala Iwamatsu) who hopes to marry a rich black man (Roland McFarland), and an adorable little boy (Kisa Sky--actually a girl) who, sigh, isn’t long for this world.

The cliches are relentless. But the one cliche that might have made some sense--a speech in which we finally hear why the old man is so mean--isn’t there. This character hasn’t a single redeeming moment, despite Harada’s attempts to sweeten his demeanor.

Momo Yashima’s staging is halting. For example, it’s hard to imagine that the plea to “Keep your voice down” would ever be preceded by a long pause. Here, it is.

Gilbert Wong’s set is absurdly dreary. Yes, the kitchen sink is up front, and behind it--casually strewn across the floor--is a Boyle Avenue street sign, as if someone just happened to drop it there. Surely there’s a better way to let us know we’re in East Los Angeles.

W. Colin McKay’s script is billed as “an uncomfortable comedy,” but the comedy is non-existent, unless you count the witless slapstick of Harada and Ralph Brannen as his buddy. Where nobody belongs is at “Where Nobody Belongs.”

Performances are at 4424 Santa Monica Blvd., Fridays and Saturdays at 8 p.m., Saturdays and Sundays at 2 p.m., through June 19. Tickets: $8-$10; (213) 660-0366.