STAGE REVIEW : Henley’s ‘Wake’ Aptly Named

In the wake of her successful “Crimes of the Heart,” Beth Henley offered “The Wake of Jamey Foster” to Broadway in 1982. Broadway said no thanks.

The long-delayed Los Angeles premiere, at the Complex, isn’t likely to restore the play’s reputation. It’s like a plate of hush puppies: little bits of Southern-style flavor that add up to nothing more than empty calories.

Jamey Foster, a frustrated historian turned real estate salesman, has died from a stroke after a close encounter with a cow (don’t ask). His estranged wife (Kristina Coggins) is suddenly supposed to be a grieving widow, but she’s having a hard time feeling the loss.

Gathering for the wake are her loose sister (Laura Morris) and childish brother (David Snell), the deceased’s pompous and resentful brother (John Mese) and his doting but barren wife (Jessica Black), and a couple of eccentric hangers-on (Leigh Kelly and Robert Munns).

Like many a funeral play, this one suffers from an excess of talk and a lack of action. The talk is occasionally tangy, but the characters’ idiosyncrasies are all too artificial. Henley relied on easy jokes more than the hard work of character-building.

Russell DeGrazier’s staging is severely hampered by his set, a grim and cramped construction, uncomfortably perched between realism and abstraction, darkly lit by Dave Ferarra. It doesn’t begin to suggest a small town in Mississippi.

But the accents and Traci Evans’ costumes bring back some of the Southern flavor, and the performances are roughly accurate, if not completely focused. Black’s snit after she catches her husband making a pass at the loose sister is the most finely tuned moment of hysteria in the show.

For the record, the producers report that Henley had requested no reviews or paid advertising for this production.

At 6478 Santa Monica Blvd., Hollywood, Thursdays through Sundays at 8 p.m., indefinitely. $15; (213) 466-1767.