STAGE REVIEW : Loving Re-Creation of ‘Blue Dahlia’

The Pacific Theatre Ensemble has carved out a genre for itself: a kind of meticulous reproduction of period pieces, from the only partially successful “Romanoff’s” to the more distinguished Victorian gothic “Slaughterhouse on Tanner’s Close.” Its latest effort, at the attractive Court Theatre on La Cienega Boulevard (which seems the ideal ‘40s setting for this piece), is a stage version of the 1946 movie, “The Blue Dahlia,” produced by John Houseman and written by Raymond Chandler from his own unfinished novel.

Once again, it’s director Daniel O’Connor, responsible for “Tanner’s Close,” who gives this adaptation fidelity, breadth and bustle--a fluidity that ebbs and flows like film, but punctuated by the Blue Dahlia nightclub’s latest sensation: a torch singer (the sensational Christine Ebersole) with a repertoire of top ‘40s songs used here to securely anchor the action to the stage in a manner that would never happen in the movies.

The story is virtually untampered Chandler, with a script that sticks closely to the film that featured Alan Ladd, Veronica Lake and good old William Bendix. It’s the tale of a Navy flyer who, at war’s end, comes home to an unfaithful wife and is caught in a web of murder and deceit from which, “neither tarnished nor afraid,” he eventually emerges vindicated after many “mean streets” machinations and a panoramic sense of a still pubescent Los Angeles full of innocence and stock footage.

In fact, the story lacks plot distinction (a fascinating account of the improbable making of the film may be found in Houseman’s book, “Entertainers and the Entertained”). But nostalgia for the Chandleresque, for the halcyon Los Angeles that was, add up to iconography--a preoccupation with the piece as an image of its time, much enhanced by the devotion and fidelity of the bright younger generation that comprises this talented cast.

There are 41 characters in O’Connor’s adaptation, performed by half as many quick-change artists who never let the tempo flag. Repetitive moments written into the original screenplay hit the stage version in its second half, but these are barely felt in the uninterrupted flow of action, with smoking guns, sultry women, skulking hoods and characters swirling about the stage as continual window dressing: “extras” fleshing out this play with the trappings and tradition of film.

It is skillfully done, with respect and even with adoration. The ensemble is remarkable in its abilities to do several things at once, while the leads are valiantly undertaken by Ramy Zada as Navy flyer Johnny Morrison; Steven J. Markus and Ross Hindley as his squadron buddies Buzz and George, respectively; Jeffrey Josephson as the sinister Eddie Harwood, owner of the Blue Dahlia nightclub; Marcia Firesten as Eddie’s estranged wife; and, to a lesser extent, Jill Jacobson who seems to be forcing her role as the faithless Helen Morrison. (Jacobson and Markus also produced the show.)

Thomas Buderwitz’s two-level set is crammed with accurate detail, from the prominent jukebox (that looks swiped from the movie), to the old-style pay phone on the wall, the antique Coke machine, period posters and old-time radio. Lori Martin’s costumes are equally impeccable, from the guys’ broad-brimmed Borsalinos, wide lapels and affection for Hawaiian shirts, to the women’s hair styles, shoes and gowns. Ebersole’s gifted crooning, Toni Destefanis’ staging of jitterbugging couples and William Maloney’s musical arrangements will bring a lump to the throat of anyone over 50.

This said, there remains a philosophical question. As with “Tanner’s Close” or, for that matter, “Romanoff’s,” does such loving reproduction amount to anything more than a piece of affectionate recreation? A valentine to the memory of Raymond Chandler and, beyond him, to an entire and specific Hollywood era? The answer is no. “The Blue Dahlia” must be admired and enjoyed within these limitations. But taken at face value, strictly for what it is, it can be great fun and splendid entertainment.

At 722 N. La Cienega Blvd. Thursdays through Saturdays, 8 p.m.; Sundays 2:30 and 7:30 p.m., until April 23. Tickets: $20; (213) 466-1767.