STAGE REVIEW : Tales of Hollywood Told Well in ‘Aleph 4’ Works

While watching “Aleph 4,” the latest in Pipeline’s series of grouped (usually four) performance pieces at Saxon-Lee Gallery, it’s funny to think of how Hollywood is governed more than ever by the ethic of the high concept--meaning low movies. That is because this particular “Aleph” has a concept of its own: Hollywood, and what it does to people.

One of the pieces, to be sure, doesn’t follow the concept. Kedric Robin Wolfe’s “Snooksie,” a quaint personal memoir about a favorite dog who stole dinner goodies and yapped at passing cars, is also the slightest thing Wolfe, with director Scott Kelman, has ever done and somewhat out of place here.

The other three, connected by Linda Hammett’s sneaky and surprising dance interludes, aren’t slight at all.

Every person who has ever slaved in the Industry, gophering today to be the Spielberg of tomorrow, should see the opener, Michael Schlitt’s “Drive He Said.” Schlitt sits on a stool most of the time, recalling life as a menial assistant for Joe, a heavyweight commercial director/producer. Schlitt’s ironic adventure to the heart of Joe, told with charming immediacy under Dean Robinson’s direction, is oddly breezy for a tale about desperate survival.

This makes an interesting lead-in to Maud Winchester’s “Psycho Babble in Babylon,” also directed by Robinson. Winchester’s actress, unlike Schlitt’s gopher, actually hits the jackpot--so much so that she uses her percentage of the grosses to fund pet causes and then to buy a town. In fact, Winchester’s script, which treads along the edge of cliche without ever falling in, suggests that making movies isn’t what it’s about at all. It’s about creative investments, the more self-aggrandizing the better.

Hollywood swallows everyone alive in the end, though, and chomps down especially hard on any unsuspecting artist who wanders in. Enter “Bert Sees the Light,” writer-director R. A. White’s ingenious comic history of Bertolt Brecht’s escape from Hitler to movieland.

White takes several risks here, and they all work superbly. First, he doesn’t adopt a Brechtian style for actors Jack Black, Michael Rivkin and Molly Bryant to follow, but goes for a hyperactive pace that is half Mack Sennett, half Billy Wilder. Then, he doesn’t accord Brecht much reverence, but rather sees him as a somewhat stumbling survivor.

At 7525 Beverly Blvd., on Fridays and Saturdays, 8 p.m., through next Saturday. Tickets: $12; (213) 933-5282 or (213) 629-2205.