‘West Side Story’ at Golden; ‘Worship’ at Groundlings; ‘Planet’ at Highways; ‘Earthers’ at Theater 6470; ‘W(Holes)’ at Theatre/Theater

“West Side Story” may have lost its thematic edge since the Jets and Sharks exploded on Broadway in 1957, but the Golden Theatre production in Burbank is a zestful reminder of how Jerome Robbins advanced the art of musical theater dance in the original.

Under the fine tuning of director-choreographer Gregory Scott Young, the cast darts, glides and hoofs with a tempo that catches the finger snap of big, ugly Gotham.

Time has diminished Arthur Laurents’ “Romeo and Juliet”-indebted book, but this show, with percussive propulsion from a live three-piece band, brings back Leonard Bernstein’s tingling music.

Robbins’ throbbing choreography made dance as important as the score in this racially-charged teen gang story about rival turf, and the performers at the Golden Theatre turn a cramped stage into a realm of dynamic motion.

The leads in the 24-member company convey ardor and street credibility. Ernie Marchain Jr.’s Tony and Carrie Jachnuk’s impassioned Maria are vocally splendid and endearing. Macho Mark McCandless and wiry Bill Benson (check out the latter’s swoopy ‘50s hairstyle) heat up the famous “rumble” scene.

But for sheer impact, the most electric performer is Dana Marley, as the spitfire second banana.

The wraparound and multilevel set design by Melanie Singleton, with its trash cans and mannequins, is functional and realistic.

At 139 N. San Fernando Road, Burbank, Thursdays through Saturdays, 8 p.m.; Saturdays, 2 p.m.; Sundays, 7 p.m., through Feb. 25. Tickets: $10-$15; (818) 841-9921 .

‘Worship the Groundling’

Last year, The Groundlings skewered L.A. topics, and in the newest show, “Worship the Groundling You Walk On,” the comedy troupe’s grounders and fly balls target movie lines, Barbie dolls, agent 007, home shopping, a feminist therapy group and dating rituals of assorted stripes.

The company continues to prosper with a mix of rehearsed sketches and audience-suggested improv. The latter is the surest evidence of the actors’ resources, as honed by director William Schreiner.

The show is funny (not in every sketch but most of the time) because the actors possess their characters. The lines aren’t howlers nor are the situations necessarily fresh (meeting future in-laws, for example). But the characters are sharply angled, like vanity mirrors.

“Date Sketch” with the loping Steve Hibbert and the sexually aggressive Julia Sweeney is a quick gem. Sweeney, who works possibly a notch beyond everyone else, can segue to a hard luck wallflower with ease. The women are not afraid to look horrible, and they utilize an array of wigs to effect their masks.

“Barbie” is risibly naughty, with Mindy Sterling and Heather Morgan in a toy store playing lesbian games with Barbie. Red-headed Patrick Bristow is consistently sharp, especially in the improvs.

One first-act sketch, however, “Essential Herbs,” makes fun of Chinese accents and should be scrapped. It’s egregious. The first act needs tightening anyway.

At 7307 Melrose Ave., Fridays at 8 p.m., Saturdays at 8 p.m. and 10 p.m., indefinitely. Tickets: $12.50-$17.50; (213) 934-9700.

‘Forbidden Planet’

The work at Highways, Santa Monica’s multicultural performance space, is often pushy and innovative. But L.A. multimedia artist John Goss’ “Forbidden Planet” only partially realizes its subtitled intention to probe “sex and intimacy in the age of AIDS and telecommunications.”

That’s a humongous target and Goss’ wit, such as framing his subversive odyssey through the Anne Francis character from the 1956 sci-fi film, “Forbidden Planet,” is a clever touch. Here, she’s an alien who discovers that Earth is the forbidden planet and she sets to work operating a global phone sex network to achieve global climax.

It’s a funny and--if you’ve been following the 976 numbers--a portentous theme. In fact, Goss uses telephone imagery in practically every scene of his episodic work, which culminates in “Telecumference,” tableaux visualized in a sublime video image of interfacing telephone lines spreading electronic passion worldwide.

Technically, Goss’ brave new world, with five actors, slashing light, digital sound and video projections, is an ambitious production. But its sociopolitical statement is seldom involving. Too much of the work is arcane, repetitive and fragmented. And the actress playing the Francis character is so weak vocally you struggle to focus on her otherwise outrageous lines.

At 1651 18th St., Santa Monica, concluding tomorrow and Sunday, 8:30 p.m. Tickets: $10; (213) 453-1755.

‘Earthers’

There’s another figure from the galaxies trying to help Earthlings in “Earthers” by husband-wife playwrighting team Dan Castellaneta and Deb Lacusta. Theater 6470’s production is notable for the piquant, other-worldly performance of Betsy Randle’s off-center visitor from outer space.

Otherwise, there’s not much to recommend this subtitled “cosmedy,” unfolding in an office of carping workers whose frustrations are transformed by the spell cast by the squeaky-voice Randle.

She sometimes freezes the action to address the audience in inventive language. The stylized set includes painted Day-Glo lines that heighten the work’s fantasy side.

But the reality side of the play is routine. In the best scene, an unhappy shipping clerk (the well-cast Eric Kohner), who wants to be an astronaut, rather gets his wish. But most of the piece is devoid of arc and momentum.

Director Jeff Michalski and playwright Castellaneta (of “The Tracey Ullman Show” and “The Simpsons” fame) are Second City veterans. That might explain the revue-like structure. What should be blithesome and seamless is disjointed.

At 6470 Santa Monica Blvd., Thursdays through Sundays, 8 p.m., through Feb. 25. Tickets: $12; (213) 466-1767.

‘W(Holes)’

Eric Trules has mellowed as an actor and writer since his evocative one-man hit two years ago called “Down . . . But Not Out.” His anger, edge and precision have faded in his new show, “W(Holes),” at Theatre/Theater.

A program note by Trules reports he survived a life-threatening disease, which he said influenced the monologues and dialogues of characters in crisis in “W(Holes).” Now, however, his new material is folksy where it needs to be hard, personal where it needs objective distance.

Trules has an acting partner this time, Barbara Clay, and she brings a welcome counterweight. Directed by Charles G. Davis, they work off a huge spongy divan with big holes in it. They alternately empty and fill those (emotional) holes with stories dealing with love, sex, fear, mantras, freedom, healing, llamas and “the puppet man upstairs on the rocket to the moon.”

But Trules’ tone is too precious, too sincere for its own good. It’s actually a therapeutic lecture about shedding our skins, adorned as entertainment. When an actor finds Truth, watch out.

At 1713 Cahuenga Blvd., Saturdays and Sundays, 8 p.m., through Feb. 24. Tickets: $10; (213) 285-3874.