STAGE REVIEW : Pure Energy Animates ‘Obeah Mon’ at Westwood Playhouse

Don’t ask too much of “De Obeah Mon” at the Westwood Playhouse and it just might reward you. Go with the flow and you could end up having a good time-- if you can leave your preconceptions at the door.

Spit and polish? Forget it. Don’t expect split-second timing or unity of style or much style at all. This vivid, ragged, shaggy musical, which has played other venues around town and opened over the weekend at the Westwood Playhouse, is, among other things, an extremely loose adaptation of Moliere’s comedy, “The Doctor In Spite of Himself.” Set in the fictitious Caribbean isle of Khakikotonga, it is the laid-back semi-invention of Charles Douglass (book and lyrics) and Jimmy Justice (music) that rides loud and far on sheer energy.

It is the tale of an arranged marriage gone awry. Bougainvillea (Deadre Hall), daughter of Mars Hollis (David Whitfield), the greedy rich man who owns half the island, is expected to marry William Blue Bodacius IV (Dee El Dee), the snooty and greedy rich man who owns the other half.

Of course, Bougainvillea--Villea for short--is in love with a penniless commoner named Lowlin (Kirkland Patton) and pretends to be mute in order to avoid saying “I do” to Bodacius. Of course, her apoplectic father sends two of his dumber servants in search of a doctor to cure her. And of course, Villea and Lowlin end up living happily ever after. But all the fun is in getting there, and it really begins when the servants stumble on their main man: lazy layabout Bredda Buck (Justice), an aging medical school drop-out who long ago gave up his stethoscope for a bottle of Khakikotonga rum.

It’s a Khakikotongamamie story that doesn’t withstand the retelling, but serves as the framework for some glass-shattering singing by Delores Hall as Buck’s shrewish wife Zippora (on crutches opening night due to a fall), lots of high-flying if not necessarily galvanizing hoofing by the ensemble, and unabashed mugging by just about everyone, especially Whitfield.

The resulting show has more misses than hits in its jumble of acting and musical styles (reggae, gospel, calypso, R&B;). It is at its best when it doesn’t take itself seriously, at its worst when it overplays the stereotypes or wallows in sentimental love duets between Lowlin and his Villea (“We Steal Precious Moments”) or Lowlin pining for her on his own (“Where’s My Love”). But it can snap and even crackle in such spots as Buck’s “Rum Song,” Hollis’ and Bodacius’ “When You Got Money You Be Just What You Wish,” and it goes through the roof whenever the Tony award-winning Hall opens her mouth (“Gotta Find a Way,” “Sweet Revenge,” “Hang Him High”).

The endlessly tall, strangely put together Justice has the goofiest looks to go with a nutty sense of comic timing, while Hall is a singer of uncontested power and presence. They are the idiosyncratic centerpieces of “De Obeah Mon.”

As for the rest, this is a wildly uneven, undisciplined and frequently incomprehensible company (Whitfield being the worst but not the only offender). Training and talent vary widely, ranging from amateurish to pro, with Lenona Walton as Janice, nurse to the lovesick Villea, exemplary in a plain role that she turns to gold.

The music is mostly bright and engaging, but director/choreographer Steve Semien has done nothing to shape, pace or edit this rambling, ramshackle show--or even to direct much of its traffic. Dancers at Saturday’s opening were removing props out of their way!

At its best, “De Obeah Mon” remains a motley collection of star turns, some starrier than others, culminating explosively in a joyous, overblown, gaud-and-gilt finale for which costume designer Mario Chacon has spared no expense and not many tricks of his fertile imagination. He’s as much a star of this show as any of the performers.

For all of “De Obeah Mon’s” extravagance and easily picked apart faults, however, this company is having a high old time with it and broadcasts its contentment so infectiously that, in its own, Khakikotongamamie way, it works--shortcomings, excesses and all.

At 10886 Le Conte Ave., Thursdays through Saturdays, 8 p.m.; Sundays, 2:30 and 7:30 p.m. Ends July 15. $22-$27; (213) 410-1062.