A Good Heart Behind ‘Daddy,’ but It Needs Work at the Lex

There’s a good heart behind “My Heart Belongs to Daddy,” a two-act collaboration by writers/actresses Laury Marker and Nelsie Spencer. And Marker and Spencer put their heart and soul into their performance at the Lex, in the final production of A Directors’ Theatre.

But the script needs a good deal of work. It tracks a year in the lives of two best friends, surviving both New York City and their fathers’ emotional roles in their lives. While Marker’s Shari is close to her dad and Spencer’s Claire and pere are incommunicado, it’s Shari’s father who dies suddenly. This loss has a way of pressing the case for Claire to contact her father.

What is truest here are the emotional intent and dramatic context, particularly the ways in which each woman alternates between being the stronger and the weaker, depending on the issue. Shari, for example, can’t hold onto a man, while Claire can’t wean herself off her therapist.

This also gives an idea about the kind of burning questions that consume the play. Will Shari and Claire start up their own private aerobics training service? Will Shari keep her sanity helping maintain her father’s estate? The laments of young, upscale urbanites in love with their neuroses are getting awfully tired.

The big question--Will Claire’s dad respond to her ice-breaking letter?--carries some resonance, but it’s not enough to cut through the formulaic funny scene/serious scene structure. Oddly, for what’s mostly a comedy, the dramatic moments are much better written.

Actresses Marker and Spencer throw themselves into it, probably not needing much prodding from director Dorothy Lyman. (We believe them more as friends than as aerobic instructors.) Robert L. Smith’s set and lights recycle the typical New York studio apartment affair, with no fresh touches.

At 6760 Lexington Ave., Thursdays through Saturdays, 8 p.m., Sundays, 7:30 p.m., until March 18. Tickets: $12.50-$15; (213) 465-8431.

‘Soljers’ at West End Is Soft-Edged Army Drama

“Soljers” is another case of an actor turning to play writing, though author Tom Finnegan has not given himself a role in Stu Berg’s West End Playhouse production. Finnegan has gone back to his pre-acting days when he was in the Army (21 years worth of active duty, according to the program notes) and devised a deliberately commercial comedy that blends the sentiments of “Mr. Roberts” with an AA recruitment session.

Finnegan milks every laugh he can out of the military pecking order, in which David McKnight’s Sgt. Bivens rails at Keenan Thomas’ Pvt. Dixie, Barry Jenner’s First Sgt. Thompson nails John LaMotta’s Sgt. Donatelli and Tim McLaughlin’s Capt. Smith dogs Thompson. Too bad for Smith--he has no one to rebel against.

The rebellion is soft, though, and Finnegan isn’t out to trash the Army; to the contrary, “Soljers” becomes an affectionate tribute to men in uniform, circa 1965. The softness, though, carries over to the central drama of Donatelli, an older guy just back from Vietnam who’s hitting the bottle after seeing too many wars. Finnegan’s solution would be fine for pre-Vietnam drama--If I’m a soldier, I’d better clean up my act--but if Vietnam proved anything, it’s that real life is more complicated.

Finnegan’s program notes describe the numerous workshops “Soljers” has gone through, and the play betrays this, feeling too designed to please as many people as possible. The turnabout in Thompson’s by-the-book character suggests a writer stretching for a happy ending. “Mr. Roberts” fans, though, might not notice, especially with a cast this engaging and impeccably professional.

At 7446 Van Nuys Blvd., on Thursdays through Saturdays, 8 p.m., Sundays, 7 p.m., until April 8. Tickets: $12; (818) 904-0444.

Self-Reflective ‘Tango’ at Century City Playhouse

Francis Thomas Gieringer’s “Manhattan Tango,” at the Century City Playhouse, looks, sounds and feels like a young playwright sifting through all the personal business young playwrights do before they write real plays.

This is a sketch for one, which is fine, since Gieringer has written it not worrying that his audience will follow him. Some playwrights go through their whole lives before getting to that point.

Painfully self-reflective, “Tango” follows a--who else?--young New York playwright (Ferdinand Lewis) as he writes about the struggle of getting a play on. His randy agent as well as his spendthrift patrons refer to it as “This Play,” which they prefer to his other unproduceable drama involving priests.

The real dance in “Tango” is about various hit-and-miss love affairs and marriages. Director Judy Goff works up a rhythm for Gieringer’s fragmented scene structure, and we put together the pieces. The repetitions and superficiality of the whole, though, seriously undercut the experiment.

At 10508 W. Pico Blvd., on Mondays through Wednesdays, 8 p.m., until March 14. Tickets: $5; (213) 839-3322.

‘Fly Blackbird Revisited’ Surreal at Inner City

If “Fly Blackbird Revisited” is your first glimpse at J. V. Hatch’s and C. Bernard Jackson’s musical (originally staged 30 years ago as “Fly Blackbird”), you might leave the Inner City Cultural Center rubbing your eyes.

Jackson has directed and adapted his already surreal take on the frustrations of young African-Americans in the civil rights era as a kind of commentary on the old show. The idea is to look back, and see how far, or little, we’ve come.

A good idea in theory, but it isn’t theatricalized, and Wally Taylor’s narrator had a terrible time remembering his lines last Friday (Ron Bishop’s less-than-swinging band had an even harder time remembering to cover for him). Didactic to a fare-thee-well, Jackson’s revisitation doesn’t employ the useful devices that would make the literal metaphorical. We don’t need to be told, for instance, that a potion in the dream sequence presaged the spread of crack in the ghetto. It’s obvious (it’s also Jackson blowing his own horn).

Many of the original Jackson/Hatch songs remain, and some of them have a complex harmonization requiring the utmost from performers Mel Carter, Emily Yancy, Rozlyn Sorrell and Vaughn Cromwell. Carter’s voice is as smooth as butter, and Yancy’s power in multiple roles gets the show through several rough spots.

At 1308 S. New Hampshire Ave., on Thursdays through Saturdays, 8 p.m., Sundays, 3 and 7 p.m., until March 18. Tickets: $20; (213) 387-1161.

Dumb’s Not Funny for ‘The Nerd’ at La Mirada

Would you let a fellow who habitually cleans his ear with his finger, refuses to listen to anything you say and generally enjoys driving people crazy, stay in your home for a week? Even if you feel indebted to him since he once saved your life? Of course not. And a good farce wouldn’t allow for it either. Larry Shue’s “The Nerd,” alas, does. If ever a comedy proved that dumb doesn’t equal funny, this is it.

Glenn Casale’s staging at La Mirada Civic Theatre has the kind of flatness you’d expect to see at a live TV studio performance. Poor Tony Dow (he was Wally on “Leave It to Beaver”), as the terminally nice guy who puts up with Richard Carlson’s irritating Nerd, has nothing to do put play put-upon. Dan Gilvezan brings no acid wit to his role as the sharp-tongued critic, and Joseph Ruskin’s hotel owner yells a lot. Carlson follows script instructions and really gets on your nerves, which doesn’t mean he’s funny. The women--Sandahl Bergman and Toni Sawyer--are fairly inert.

At 14900 La Mirada Blvd., La Mirada, on Tuesdays through Fridays, 8 p.m., Saturdays, 2:30 and 8 p.m., Sundays, 2:30 and 7:30 p.m., until March 11. Tickets: $18-22; (213) 944-9801 or (714) 994-6310.