Theatre 6470 ‘Isolates’ Ethics of Sex That Kills

Imagine that you’re a female scientist in Antarctica and that you’re getting a bit cabin feverish after two years on the ice. One of your colleagues, a control freak who knows no biology, insists that you caused the deaths of three male workers who couldn’t resist sleeping with you on the night you arrived. (Something to do with germs and different body temperatures.) Now, a new attractive male has arrived. What do you do?

Jule Selbo has constructed an intriguing, even profound situation in her play, “Isolate,” at Theatre 6470. Too bad that she hasn’t found her way to a profound resolution.

Actually, that isn’t the only problem with this moral drama that’s ostensibly about scientists. So casual or flippant are these people, studying life in low temperatures, that we wonder if they’re scientists at all. We never see them truly at work (director Allan Wasserman could inject some business to create a patina of credibility). And their professional talk is along the lines of “Be scientific!” or “We’re talking science here!”

Selbo also places the beleaguered Janet (Janet Borrus) in confessional monologue scenes intended to let us deeper into Janet’s mind. As she recalls that fateful night of sex with strangers (and, yes, the AIDS connection is obviously intended), we glimpse her guilt, but the thrill of that fatal night--in the form of a repeated, wan shadow dance number--is thin indeed.

On the other hand, we do begin to worry for people’s lives here. New guy George (Jason Grant Smith) is so chummy and unpretentious, and Frank, the control freak (Michael Bofshever), is so virulent. And yet Frank might be right; Janet may have signed her death sentence, just holding George in her arms. The climax to all this is adumbrated, though, with the good cast left in emotional midstream as well. Janet’s final monologue is no finale.

Ted Crittenden’s fine set sends off chills and isolation. Completing the mood are Lawrence Oberman’s harsh lights, Kevin Dunayer’s elaborate sound design and Bryan Baker’s Brian Eno-ish music.

At 6470 Santa Monica Blvd., on Thursdays through Sundays, 8 p.m., until May 13. $12.50; (213) 466-1767.

‘Broadway Bound’ at La Mirada Theatre

Because the Broadway series at La Mirada Theatre exists to do large-scale stagings of commercially proven shows with a star above the title, it usually delivers instantly forgettable product. But once in a while, a show and star together create genuine theater.

This is the case with Barbara Bain in Glenn Casale’s production of Neil Simon’s “Broadway Bound.” As the dedicated and durable mother and wife in the Jerome family, Bain is just as affecting as Carole Shelley was at the Ahmanson two years ago.

So it is for the cast as a whole. Stuart Rogers’ Eugene has that glint of ambition in his eye, but is a deeply touched mother’s son as Bain recalls the night she danced with George Raft. Brian Drillinger’s Stanley is ideally poised as a candidate for an ulcer: You believe these brothers are writers. As the two men in the family, John Ingle’s father and Robert Ellenstein’s grandfather show what different choices in life these men made, and the resultant prices they pay.

It is that kind of play, one of the rare Simon works where the consequences of characters’ decisions send out small quakes, with no jokes to save the day.

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

Dated ‘Love Acts’ at the Coast Playhouse

The cobwebs from the dated melodrama school of overwrought emotions and 11th-hour character revelations hang all over Bart Baker’s “Love Acts” at the Coast Playhouse. Aside from the fact that Baker’s play could have been written 30 years ago--minus some sexy romps on a hotel bed between Lance August’s quiet Elroy and Suzanne Averitt’s chattering Gail--his characters and their emotions seldom seem true.

Ironically, in a story dominated by people at extremes, it’s the steady-state character who draws us in. Under Joshua Ravetch’s direction, Beverly Johnson, as the manager of the Louisville hotel where Elroy is staying, is honest down to her fingernails. She is all hard-won wisdom, but a bit blistered. Johnson makes it look easy.

Elroy is drawn to her, although he’s never chatted with a black woman before (August’s best moment, as his Elroy is caught in self-surprise). He likes Gail only in bed, yet Gail won’t stay away.

Averitt seems more like an L.A. actress working hard than an off-duty Louisville waitress, but it’s no help that Gail is a patently obvious nut case (her one winning moment is due to a surprise effect Mike Callaway and Dana Williams built into their superbly bleak set). August plays Elroy too dryly for the play’s emotional good.

At 8325 Santa Monica Blvd., on Thursdays through Sundays, 8 p.m., until April 22. $15.50-$17.50; (213) 650-8507.

‘Seascape With Sharks’ at the Zephyr Theatre

Speaking of patently obvious nut cases, Gail has nothing on Tracey in Don Nigro’s two-character work, “Seascape With Sharks and Dancer.” As Michele Palermo depicts her in David Klass’ Zephyr Theatre production, she could even be a murderer, with James Alt’s Ben as her host-victim.

Not that we feel much sympathy for him, either. Whoever would give shelter to a clearly deranged woman who spews out an endless stream of unprovoked venom (the capper is when she calls him “a eunuch”) has his own problems. They’re the problems, though, of an unengagingly dumb person. (Incidentally, though Ben writes, he writes novels , not plays.)

As no one else walks on to save the play, watching “Seascape” is like sitting in a cell waiting for the bail to arrive. Nigro, sensing he’s in a hole, forces Tracey into an incredible sea-change in Act II (now, she’s running the household) and then tosses in a sub-plot involving abortion. And guess what’s the one thing Tracey and Ben agree on? That abortion is murder.

This is up for debate, which is one of theater’s proper jobs. To arbitrarily insert such a burning issue, and then not explore it, is a case of play writing’s cardinal sin: manipulation without style.

At 7456 Melrose Ave., Thursdays through Sundays, 8 p.m., until April 22. $10-$12.50; (818) 766-1741.

‘A Peculiar People’ at Crossley Theatre

As he did with his Central American morality play, “Godman,” playwright Rick Najera takes on a considerable subject in “A Peculiar People” and proceeds to trivialize it.

The subject is the power of faith (Christianity) over force (the Roman Empire). But at the Crossley Theatre, director Mark Henderson compounds the trivialization with unintentional comedy and unrealized moments of laughter.

How to get laughs in a situation where a wrongly accused non-believer (a vaporous Robin Strand) is in a dungeon with a woman of Christ (a vacant Karen Stanley) is probably best solved with an absurdist approach. But that wouldn’t mesh with this play’s actual purpose--which is, bluntly, Christian propaganda. We can see the writing on the wall when even the Roman military man (a stolid John Elerick) gets the faith in the end.

At Hollywood Presbyterian Church, 1760 N. Gower St., on Fridays and Saturdays, 8 p.m., Sundays, 2:30 p.m., until April 22. $8; (213) 964-3586.