STAGE REVIEW : A Murderous Tale of ‘Siblings’ Revelry at Gnu

Remember Rafael Lima’s “El Salvador” at the Gnu Theatre last year, that action-packed drama about reporters in San Salvador strewing live iguanas, dirty socks and machismo all over the stage?

All that male ethos has given way this year to “Siblings,” a mildly psychological murder mystery by Barbara Bishop involving a trio of sisters. The show--not new--owes as much to trendiness as to aberration, but manages to pack a good sense of humor and well-engineered scare tactics.

The director (also producer, sound and set designer) is Jeff Seymour, the Gnu’s founder, artistic head, one-man band and general factotum. Seymour, who had staged (and designed) “El Salvador” as well, proves that he can work just as smoothly with female “Siblings” as with rowdy males. All similarity between the two plays, however, ends there.

Lima’s piece was theatre-verite, a highly charged political as well as personal portrait of reporters in action in a war zone. Bishop’s piece is pure fantasy, with a tendency to drag its feet in the first act and be a touch obvious in the second. But thanks to Seymour’s pacing and a couple of distinguished performances, “Siblings” takes on a quality it might not otherwise deserve.

The story focuses on the murder of a senator’s wife, found bludgeoned to death in an alley. In the course of the investigation that follows we meet--not necessarily in this order--the usual panoply of relatives and other suspects: the dead woman’s senator husband (Carmen Argenziano), her prim married sister from the Midwest (Katherine Cannon), her New York artist sister (Talia Balsam) and the artist’s boyfriend (Randy Stone).

Seymour Bloch (Walter Olkewicz) is the detective in charge. He spends Act I pulling the strings that make these people dance, flanked now and then by his assistant, Samantha Martin or “Sam” for short (Christie Mellor). She helps Bloch stay on his schedule and his diet. This oversized teddy bear is a reluctant convert to exercise and good nutrition, and Olkewicz makes the most of these aspects of his character without milking them. He doesn’t just carry the show. He is the show, in an understated portrayal that’s a delicious cross between a genial Benno Blimpie and Agatha Christie’s tight-lipped Hercule Poirot.

There’s not much more to tell in a whodunit without running the risk of making it a whodidit. As it is, Bishop so narrowly restricts the field of possibilities that it creates some problems with the diversionary tactics in the second act.

The focus becomes more diffuse. Relationships are hinted at or established that lack enough background to be credible. But there is still plenty of psychology getting tossed around to keep interest from flagging--and enough aftershocks to surprise us beyond the revelation of the identity of the murderer.

There is also an unexpected fillip at the end that opens a window onto another realm. Our detective is going to have to make some hard personal decisions and we aren’t going to know what they are. The coda is just unsettling enough to take the curse off this kind of neatly packaged play.

The acting is competent, engaging and lithe, although no one comes close to touching the laidback subtleties in Olkewicz’s accomplished characterization. Murder mysteries rarely provide more than one chance to shine.

As usual at the Gnu, Seymour’s production values are on the mark. His New York artist’s studio doesn’t miss a beat. There are paintings and masks on the walls, sculptures in the room, oddly shaped archways, a loft bed and a paint-spackled refrigerator and stove. It’s not exactly Jackson Pollock, but it’ll do.

At 10426 Magnolia Blvd. in North Hollywood, Thursdays through Sundays, 8 p.m., indefinitely. Tickets: $15-$17.50; (818) 508-5344).