Carroll: A Murky Looking Glass

During the intermission of “Crocodiles in Cream,” Kevin Moore’s one-man performance of the late David Horlock’s portrait of Lewis Carroll, a pleasant tea party is set up for us outside the Callboard Theatre. The Mad Hatter asks us if we’d like sugar and/or cream, and the Mock Turtle is over in a corner, weeping. (It even rained a little, British-style, the night I attended.)

It’s odd, to use one of Alice’s favorite words, for the intermission to be more theatrical than the play. Moore’s approach, following Horlock’s staging, is very proper, precise, psychological. Their intent is, via letters and diaries, to get inside Carroll’s bric-a-brac mind, half-mathematical, half-playfully nonsensical, and link it to his poetry and the “Alice” books.

As a showcase performance, Moore’s is artfully intent on getting at the deep sadness felt by both Charles Dodgson and Carroll (the pen name Dodgson used in his writings). He fixes that sadness to a loneliness and an alienation from adults. But this remains a showcase, scratching the surface of what theater can do with the Carroll imagination, which amusingly charted a dance of word play and startling imagery. There is a play (an opera, even) in Carroll’s work. “Crocodiles in Cream” is only a very nice appetizer.

At 8451 Melrose Place, Mondays through Wednesdays, 8 p.m., until May 30. $16.50; (213) 466-1767.