‘Fragging’ at New Playwrights’; ‘Shades of Grey’ at Matrix; ‘Best Laid Plans’ at Beverly Hills Playhouse

The phenomenon of “fragging,” in which a soldier deliberately kills a superior officer in his unit, reached untold heights during the Vietnam War. For anyone writing about that maddeningly absurd war, it serves as an appropriate metaphor. Louis Cimino has snatched upon it for “Fragging,” at the New Playwrights’ Foundation Theatre.

Fragging should also be a metaphor with guaranteed power, particularly since one of theater’s highest goals is to find the single act that serves as the poetic microcosm of the world on stage. Yet it is precisely that power that “Fragging” lacks.

Cato, Hobie and Don (Raudel Perez, George LePorte and Tim Hutchinson) are three medical unit soldiers at odds with their lieutenant (Bill Conroy). Order has broken down, so Don spends more time talking about karma than the war, Cato shoots up heroin and Hobie is in complete revolt against all authority. Enter Peter (Eddie Billinaso), “a new guy” who makes quick friends with the trio.

It becomes clear that the lieutenant’s days are numbered, but Cimino doesn’t structure the drama so we feel a tightening of the noose. Strangely, even though John DiFusco’s direction and Jon Gottlieb’s sound design lend a critical sense of realism, the moment of the fragging (off-stage, with quiet sound effects) is nearly lost on the audience. The aftermath, awash in carelessly long drug-taking scenes that lead to a rather incredible happy ending, signals a story gone off the tracks.

The cast honestly expresses the pains and pleasures of murder and bonding in an alien world, with Perez taking matters very deep as a guy addicted to “the white lady.” Lawrence Oberman’s lights and Robert Bingham’s cleverly arranged set are evocative and economic. But even with DiFusco in charge (he’s a vet of the war and of Vietnam plays such as “Tracers”) “Fragging” resembles too much other Vietnam melodrama, and sacrifices a tragic sensibility.

At 6111 W. Olympic Blvd., Wednesdays through Sundays, 8 p.m., indefinitely. Tickets: $12-$16; (213) 466-1767.

‘Shades of Grey’

Some ideas--like dramatist-songwriter Laird McClure’s to turn Oscar Wilde’s “The Picture of Dorian Gray” into a rock ‘n’ roll musical--shouldn’t even be attempted. They should simply be rejected out of hand. “Shades of Grey,” at the Matrix, is so ludicrous that it’s doubtful even the most curious audience members unacquainted with Wilde’s story will want to go back to the original source.

But never mind a point-by-point, book versus play comparison. On its own terms, as a rock musical, “Shades of Grey” is pop pabulum. For a story that traces the demonic downfall of a superstar (Robert Torti as Dorian), from initial stardom in the early ‘60s to Vegas-style devolution in the ‘80s, the music leaves one clueless as to what kind of musician or superstar Dorian actually is.

This is because virtually all of the tunes by the composer-lyricist team of McClure and Franni Burke are stuck in a plodding mid-tempo quagmire from which even the most inspired performers couldn’t extract themselves. Most crucially, the tunes Dorian performs suggest none of the fame or electricity we’re told attend to his name. Most fatally, those tunes are indistinguishable in tone or quality from the off-stage, behind-the-scenes numbers. No help comes from the live quartet, led by keyboardist Bill Schneider and hampered by a spiritless rhythm section.

The voices are adequate, with some comic musical relief from Sandy Rosenberg as a frustrated secretary. The performances, under Judy Gibson’s direction, are another matter: Torti is a cipher in the lead, and B. J. Turner’s devilish manager milks the snakey dealmaker cliches long past the point they’re dry. Sharon Mahoney’s Eve projects some genuine change, unlike Steve McDonough as Dorian’s friend and Renee Roque in a double role as two of Dorian’s lovers.

At 7657 Melrose Ave., Thursdays through Saturdays, 8 p.m., Sundays, 7 p.m. Ends May 14. Tickets: $21-23; (213) 852-1445.

‘Best Laid Plans’

The era that Oscar Levant referred to when he cracked, “I knew Doris Day before she was a virgin,” would have found John Dusenberry’s new musical, “Best Laid Plans,” a racy affair. Still, Dusenberry’s music and lyrics wouldn’t hold up in any decade.

At the Beverly Hills Playhouse, the overall impression of Allan Hunt’s production is of a children’s show that happens to be about adult characters. From the belabored antics of two pairs of young lovers (Steve Earnest with Cathy Cavadini, John Kennan with Catherine Davis Cox) to the hokey observations of Roger DeWitt’s Bill, “Best Laid Plans” reflects kid theater’s worst proclivities for paint-by-numbers moralizing. The other influences include the lamest elements of Shakespeare’s light comedies and a clunky musical form after Gilbert and Sullivan without any of their style.

Standing out from an exceptionally flat cast is Cavadini, a sparkling performer who brings charisma to lifeless surroundings.

At 254 S. Robertson Blvd., Fridays through Sundays, 8 p.m., until April 30. Tickets: $16; (213) 466-1767.