STAGE REVIEW : After 10 Years, ‘Bums’ Strike Out

It’s kinda sad. But what’s happened to “Bleacher Bums” at the Century City Playhouse in the last decade may be a reflection of what’s happened to America. Call it an erosion of standards.

The Burbage Theatre Ensemble, producer of this snappy little “nine-inning comedy,” is celebrating this production’s 10th--count ‘em--10th anniversary. It is Los Angeles’ longest-running show ever, except for possibly “The Drunkard.” But what was once a rousing 90 minutes of uplifting, low-brow fun at the ballpark has become an indiscriminate shambles at the theater, making a potent case against longevity. Could this production’s durability have been merely a matter of keeping the doors open, whether audiences came through them or not?

One thing’s for sure: It’s not the play’s fault. Behind the sloppy din and mistiming, there are the remains of a wonderful little show.

Because it was conceived and created by Chicago’s Organic Theatre some 15 years ago (from an idea of actor Joe Mantegna, who was in both the Chicago and Los Angeles original productions), it takes place at Wrigley Field. The fans we see are Chicago Cub die-hards--most of them. But beyond such specifics, this is a brash yet tender tribute to all dedicated baseball fans who never miss a game, would sooner surrender Mother than their allegiance to the home team, and who form an indestructible community of passionate bleacher zanies who hit those backless benches with the fire of true believers.

The play is simplicity itself. It dwells on the interplay among young Melody (a weak Kathy Fleig), who is there mostly to wave flirtatiously to her favorite player and show off as much of her bod as she can pretend she wants to tan; Greg (a very good Keith Grant), the blind fan who “sees” it all by staying tuned into the radio but “feels” it by being there; the blowhard Zig (Rob Slyker), known as Herb to his wife (Tina Bacon), who shows him up by showing up and knowing the game better than he does; Decker (Peter Nicholson), a snappy dresser and sharp bettor, slavishly shadowed by the nerdy Richie (Richard Catt); Marvin (Marc Castaldo), the snake in the grass who doesn’t care how, who or what he bets on, as long as he wins, and cheerleader (Mark Murphy) who loves to provoke the players by shouting out secrets about their private lives.

One would reasonably assume that director Ivan Spiegel, who has personally shepherded this production over the last 10 years, would give this anniversary celebration his best effort. But if what was on view Thursday is the best he has to offer (though the show is double-cast and there is an alternating team not seen by this writer), the Cubs are not the only ones striking out.

The actors do a lot of inarticulate shouting. What there is of a plot becomes inexcusably hard to follow. Their hit-or-miss timing more often misses than hits. Character detail, the heart of this piece, is haphazard, and the staging, which has lost the play’s rhythms, is devoid of the tenderness and subtleties that are essential subtext for such a sweet and simple text.

This general disarray is matched in the technical department by a sound track (credited to Mantegna and giving every indication of being fully 10 years old) that is more a distracting hum than a realistic background show of enthusiasm.

Times Theater Critic Dan Sullivan suggested in his 1980 review of this production that the unstated moral of this play is that “a real fan has got to care” and that “if we all cared it would be a better U.S.A.” That goes double for theater.

No one appears to have cared enough to keep this show’s benchmarks up to snuff. Since it’s been Spiegel’s baby all along, the problem would seem to be his. This is a game whose bases are loaded, but whose manager’s dropped the ball.

At the Century City Playhouse, 10508 W. Pico Blvd. in West Los Angeles, Thursdays and Fridays, 8:30 p.m.; Saturdays and Sundays, 7:30 p.m. Indefinitely. $10-$15; (213) 839-3322.