STAGE REVIEW : Stricklyn as Tennessee Williams

Ray Stricklyn’s one-man Tennessee Williams show, “Confessions of a Nightingale,” is a deft impersonation, but it isn’t much of a play.

Perhaps because of the nature of the genre as well as the writing of the piece, it shows off Stricklyn more than it illuminates Williams--unless, of course, Stricklyn intends to depict Williams as a self-absorbed windbag.

That’s what the great playwright appears to be in these so-called “Confessions,” which have resurfaced at the Westwood Playhouse for three Monday-night performances. The mood is more narcissistic than confessional. Only one of the many stories Stricklyn tells really reflects badly on Williams.

Furthermore, none of the stories develop much momentum, for Stricklyn’s Williams constantly interrupts himself with abrupt retreats into trivia or with repetitive samples of his general philosophy toward life, stated in banalities that Williams would have edited out of his better plays.

Even a mediocre production of one of those plays is far more satisfying than “Confessions.” It’s an example of a show that was prematurely praised, before the quality of the text could match the quality of the performance.

Performances are at 10886 LeConte Ave., July 18 and 25 at 8 p.m. Tickets: $15; (213) 208-5454.