‘Absurd Person’ Laced With Darkness

Alan Ayckbourn is entirely in his own category. His comedy grows out of character, even when it’s slapdash farce, and there’s always a vein of darkness running through his action that gives a rock bottom to the humor, taking the human condition very seriously while mocking it.

Ron Sossi’s staging of Ayckbourn’s “Absurd Person Singular” at West Los Angeles’ Odyssey Theatre Ensemble doesn’t pull any of the playwright’s punches. Sossi knows exactly where the darkness is and lets it filter into the action, imperceptibly and credibly, without missing any of the laughs.

The action takes place on three consecutive Christmases, each act set in the respective kitchens of the three protagonist couples. Paul William Hawker’s sets echo not only the characters but the growing sense of unease.

In the first, tract-style kitchen, the cheesy Hopcrofts (giddy, frenetic Beth Hogan, delightfully smarmy Sydney Colfax) are on their way up in the world. He is a lower-class hustler and his contacts with architect Jackson and banker Brewster-Wright are there for him to cut his teeth on. Next year, in the pretentious genteel kitchen of the Jacksons, Hopcroft is gleefully stepping over one of Jackson’s design blunders into the rarefied air of success. At the end, in the Brewster-Wrights’ elegant, literally freezing kitchen, in the face of their personal decay, he is playing the others like defenseless puppets.

Anna Nicholas and John Boyle give a high tone to the yuppie desperation of the Jacksons, and Elin Jenkins and Roy Stuart maintain the aura of class the Brewster-Wrights use as a defense against admitting the disaster of their lives. All are full, detailed portraits, but Jenkins is memorable for her stylish high comedy and her sense of darkness in the last act, the darkness that raises Ayckbourn’s work above just fun.

“Absurd Person Singular,” Odyssey Theatre Ensemble, 2055 S. Sepulveda, West Los Angeles; Wednesdays-Saturdays, 8 p.m.; Sundays, 7 p.m. Ends June 16. $17.50-$21.50; (213) 477-2055. Running time: 2 hours, 40 minutes.

‘Kiss the Glass’: Surreal Joyride

At first glance Philip Littell’s “Kiss the Glass” looks for all the world like a nightclub act: a three-piece band, performer, three backup singers. Don’t be fooled. It belongs in a theater, and looks and sounds smashing at Hollywood’s Theatre/Theater.

Littell is, of course, the focal point, but Kimberlee Carlson, Noreen Hennessey and Patty Holley take center stage almost as often, and lead guitarist Eric Cunningham and the band, What Is Said, are as integral a part of the happening as the singers.

Outside of Littell’s driving delivery, his intense actor’s grip that compels the interest of his audience, his hypnotic sense of movement, and the top performances of the other singers, what the show is really about is his writing. The words--intelligent, witty, wrenching and usually more than a little surreal--keep creeping into later memory. The surrealism reaches its apex in the show’s most fascinating number, “No No No,” which is proof of Lewis Carroll’s “Take care of the words, and the sense takes care of itself.”

Cunningham collaborated with him on the material, along with others listed only as Salvatti, Brown, Castellanos and Wolf.

“Kiss the Glass” is class, a joyride for the thinking tripper, a welcome mind jolt in a middle of the road world.

“Kiss the Glass,” Theatre/Theater, 1713 Cahuenga Blvd., Hollywood; Saturdays, 10:30 p.m. Ends June 15. $10; (213) 850-6941. Running time: 90 minutes.

‘Infernal Machine’ Needs Fine-Tuning

Decades after Jean Cocteau surprised audiences with his “The Infernal Machine,” even a confirmed Cocteau fan has to admit that it’s no longer surprising, a rather staid modern adaptation of a classic. The machine still works as it grinds up the dreams and ambitions of Oedipus and Jocasta but it takes skillful hands to keep it running smoothly.

The hand of director Terence Marinan doesn’t have a very strong grip on most of this bare-bones production by Dancing Dog Theatre in West Hollywood. The bits that work, such as Brian Van Dusen’s dinner-jacketed Voice narrating with well-wrought slyness, Cocteau might have liked.

He might also smile at the long opening scene with two soldiers patrolling the ramparts of Thebes and disseminating news of the ghost of King Laius. Alan Altshuld and Andrew Leighton are very funny as the soldiers, with fine British working-class accents.

Koni McCurdy’s frantic, bimbo Jocasta almost comes off, but gets mired in repetition, and Sergio Alarcon’s simple-minded Oedipus goes nowhere. Marinan hasn’t fine-tuned the machine.

“The Infernal Machine,” Dancing Dog Repertory Theatre, West Hollywood Park Auditorium, 647 N. San Vicente Blvd.; Saturdays-Sundays, 7 p.m.; mat. Sunday, 2 p.m. Ends June 9. $7; (213) 739-3910. Running time: 2 hours, 10 minutes.

‘Co-Dependently Yours’ Needs Work

There’s a rash of shows around town focusing on sleazy lounge performers. Phyllis Katz enters the list at the Santa Monica Improv with her “Co-Dependently Yours.” This time the lounge is the “Cyd Charisse Room” at “Tony Martin’s Bowlerama,” and the sleazy performer is Gloria French, 10 years on her stool in front of the Bowlerama’s three-piece band.

Tracy Newman’s direction leaves many holes in the timing. Katz’s performance seems as distracted as Gloria’s. Gloria is constantly interrupted by the owner--who complains her singing disturbs the bowlers--and by his cluck of an employee. There are other interruptions by her sister, her ex-boyfriend and his new flame. It’s all a little forced, except for the rousing comic performances of Robert Lesser and Tim Bagley as the boss and the dumb sidekick.

It doesn’t look like much in this form, but it might make an entertaining sitcom, fleshed out and with fewer dull songs that serve little purpose.

“Co-Dependently Yours,” Upstairs at the Santa Monica Improv, 321 Santa Monica Blvd., Santa Monica; Wednesdays-Thursdays, 8:30 p.m., no performance on June 5. Ends June 20. $10 plus two-drink minimum; (213) 938-8048. Running time: 1 hour, 10 minutes.

Wilde’s ‘Salome’ Goes Psychedelic

Blaine Steele “adapted” Oscar Wilde’s “Salome” and directs his strange company in his psychedelic version with great abandon. After an interesting opening, maybe he abandoned too much.

A visiting production at the igLoo Theatre in Hollywood, “Salome” almost makes some of its marks, but some non-actors in the cast aren’t up to the challenge. A mostly female cast--including a hirsute Kimberley Edwards as Herod--gives the piece a tone that Beardsley would have loved, but maybe not the artistic Wilde, except perhaps for Conchita Rivera’s Salome, a cross between Mae West and an X-rated Shirley Temple.

It’s irreverent and salacious, and might work with a better cast.

“Salome,” igLoo Theatre, 6543 Santa Monica Blvd., Hollywood; Fridays-Saturdays, 10:30 p.m. Ends June 8. $7.50; (213) 483-6311. Running time: 45 minutes.