‘ComedySportz’ at West Coast Ensemble; ‘Gulls’ at Powerhouse; ‘Something to Hide’ at West Coast

“ComedySportz,” at the West Coast Ensemble, is more frivolous than most of its fellow improv groups--not that profundity has ever been the hallmark of the genre.

It’s also more fun than most improv troupes.

The gimmick here is that the evening is a battle of the wits between two teams, with the audience having a big say in deciding which team wins. The emcee is a referee (Suzan Hendershot). The stage is covered with artificial turf, a scoreboard keeps tabs on the teams, vendors hawk peanuts and pennants, and everyone sings “The Star-Spangled Banner” before the game begins.

The most valuable contribution from the sports world is the clock. In the first round of the competition, players are penalized if they display the slightest hesitation. Later, more extended improvs are rigorously timed, and stopped when the time is up. Other improv groups aren’t this merciless at pulling the plug.

This means, of course, that a complex sketch might not get all the time it needs. But “ComedySportz” generally avoids this by concentrating on quick-bite theater games rather than anything that might require extra time.

There is an element of this kind of game-playing in any improv group, but it’s often obscured by the players’ attempts to do something vaguely lifelike or at least to impress any casting directors out there with the actors’ ability to create a real characterization. “ComedySportz” dispenses with characterizations and simply plays ball.

It also avoids most of the sophomoric sexual suggestions that audience members often make when they shout out cues to improvisers. Anyone who makes a suggestion that’s judged too blue has to put a paper bag over his head, while the teams noisily chide the offender. A bit coy, this gesture, but it serves the smarty-pants right.

No matter how smart the concept, it requires a savvy band of improvisers to bring it off, and this company qualifies--or at least did so last Friday (the lineup of players varies nightly). The teams (the Valley Mallers and the Hollywood Endorphins) were well-matched, and the silliness was infectious. A rack of quickly grabbed costumes added visual variety.

James Thomas Bailey is the director of this company. The concept was developed by Dick Chudnow, a veteran of “Kentucky Fried Theatre”; a dozen branches of “ComedySportz” exist nationwide. An annual national tournament is held, with Los Angeles hoping to field a team next year, probably under the “Hollywood Endorphins” banner.

Go Endorphins!

‘Gulls’ Obvious. That’s the word for “Gulls,” an Australian play in its North American premiere at the Powerhouse.

Writer Robert Hewett spells everything out for us. His hero, a brain-damaged man who lives with his sister, doesn’t have to hope we understand him, through his garbled speech. From the beginning of the play, Bill (Jeff Doucette) speaks to the audience in perfectly coherent asides. We almost forget that the other characters can’t understand what he’s saying.

Bill goes so far as to tell us exactly how the play will end--and he does this shortly after it’s begun. While no one expects “Gulls” to be a mystery thriller, Hewett went out of his way to kill any suspense that his story might generate.

He also makes his symbolism about as explicit as possible. The titular gulls represent the freedom Bill desires. But we don’t just hear them on the sound track. The gulls are embodied by two rod puppets that repeatedly drift over our heads from the back of the house, followed by the puppeteers on foot. This device adds a note of wonderment at first, but it soon becomes a cliche.

The performances aren’t models of subtlety either. Doucette has one of the most comically expressive faces in town, but it’s almost too expressive here; the nuances are inflated by his physiognomy. Dena Dietrich’s crass neighbor never transcends crassness.

Lee Garlington and Joel Polis fare better as Bill’s sister and her would-be lover, though the dialogue they speak is resolutely earthbound, as if Hewett exhausted his lyrical impulse by coming up with the idea of the gulls.

Devorah Cutler directed.

‘Something to Hide’ Leslie Sands’ “Something to Hide,” a would-be mystery thriller at the West Coast Ensemble, focuses on a romantic triangle that’s dull, dull, dull.

We watch a writer (Dick DeCoit), his wife and publisher (Cynthia Steele) and his girlfriend (Beth Taylor) go through their paces without sensing a glimmer of the danger, the passion, or the sexual chemistry that ought to keep the stage sizzling. It’s one of the least thrilling thrillers I’ve ever seen.

The detective here is a Columbo figure (Lou Wagner) whose extreme curiosity seems awfully far-fetched. A maid and neighbor are played as caricatures in Don Dubbins’ staging.

At least the 1958 small-town production design (sets by Nicholas Dorr, costumes by Ann Kalb) is fairly convincing.