Rite of Passage in ‘Home Front Blues’

When David H. Vowell’s spunky World War II musical, “The Home Front Blues,” first kicks into gear, you wonder about the title. Things are so peppy at Molly’s Malt Shop that blues couldn’t have a chance. But before it’s over at the Center Stage, Vowell’s show has uncovered honest bluesy irony underneath the guileless innocence that fueled The Big One.

Just as “American Graffiti” celebrated the era before Vietnam entered the lexicon, so “The Home Front Blues” relishes the camaraderie and yearnings of teens before the rest of life happens. The echoes from film to play abound--the comic rites of passage, the intense moments of adolescent self-doubt, an epilogue about the kids’ fates--with one big difference: Vowell’s teens are dying to get into the war. If Boomers ever puzzled over the generation gap during Vietnam, this show will explain their parents’ passions once and for all.

All of this is inside a fairly wonderful package, certainly the most purely entertaining small theater musical since “Babes,” which also dramatized teen loss with a sugar-coated gloss of song and dance. The core here is narrator Charlie Bingham (Jack Harrell), recalling a life-changing day at the malt shop. Malcolm Atterbury Jr.’s staging swims in a nostalgic haze filled with Coke signs and pleated skirts (immensely helped by Janet Miller’s choreography, Maurine Sullivan’s set, Lawrence Oberman’s lights and Jennifer Michaud’s period-perfect costumes).

Young Charlie (Anthony Patrick, alternate for Hal Adams)--just back from basic training--and his pals make this memory immediate, and not only because Vowell’s dialogue sounds as effortless and fluid as his transitions from action to song (all from the period). This is a cast that sings the tunes and plays the emotional arcs with real, direct conviction (the only bump being Patrick’s flat voice). The girls (Marci Richmond, Kim Bond and Ellie Lake, alternate for Kyra Stempel) and the boys (Eric Leviton, Ben Wolff and Lex M. Medlin) have what every teen yearns for--individual flair. It’s puzzling, though, why Ann Walker’s Molly conveniently stays off stage for so long, especially when she’s so terrific when she’s on.

“The Home Front Blues,” Center Stage, 20929 Ventura Blvd. , Woodland Hills, Thursdays-Saturdays, 8 p.m.; Sundays, 7 p.m. Indefinitely. $15-$17.50; (818) 762-7488. Running time: 2 hours.

A Vaudeville Collage in ‘The Want Ads’

Don’t be misled by your first contact with Conrad Bishop’s and Elizabeth Fuller’s ‘90s vaudeville collage, “The Want Ads,” at the Burbage Theatre. Audience members are asked to complete thought-provoking questionnaires, which director Ivan Spiegel’s ensemble (Nathan Stein, Lisa Close Nelson and Debbie Devine) employ in the show. One asks, for example, what we’d most like to acquire, to happen and to do in our lives in the next five years. The show isn’t nearly as provoking.

There are all sorts of hints of something deliciously black and absurd, as when the trio wait for phone responses to an ad--until the phone becomes an inert menace. But this six-part work either drives trite ideas into the ground (factory workers stirred to life by a gadfly), doesn’t fully develop an idea (that menacing phone) or loses track of an idea (the finale about a snowbound housewife is portentous, until it gets silly). Stein, Nelson and Devine--all seasoned in various theater styles--struggle with the show’s flabbiness, and sometimes with their blank-face masks. Spiegel’s pacing and lights often have the sharp starkness the script dearly needs.

“The Want Ads,” Burbage Theatre, 2330 Sawtelle Blvd., West Los Angeles. Dark today, then Fridays-Saturdays, 9 p.m. Ends May 9. $12; (310) 478-0897. Running time: 1 hour, 30 minutes.

Father-Son Legacies in ‘Scattering Ashes’

Neil Young’s melancholic ballad “Old Man” precedes a critical scene in Donald Wayne Jarman’s “Scattering Ashes,” at the Gardner Stage, and its lyrics (“Old man take a look at my life/I’m a lot like you were”) perfectly fit Jarman’s theme and mood. The song still runs through the brain, though, long after the play begins to fade.

That’s because while Young’s look at father-son legacies remains a fresh, vital statement, Jarman’s drama is a retread of American naturalism down on the farm, hampered by clunky foreshadowings and some unjustified optimism.

It’s unjustified because the situation is insolubly bad for everyone. Twin brothers Charlie and Joey (Jarman and Allen P. Schneider, who look nothing alike) have finished with their dad’s funeral, and now battle over the will. Charlie’s alcoholism is wife Elizabeth’s (Katie Leede) cross to bear, while Ginny (Josie DiVincenzo) worries about her future with Joey.

Watching “Scattering Ashes” is like seeing a formula follow its course. Even on the Gardner’s ridiculously tiny stage, director Scott Segall’s cast lives inside this very old new play with ease--though it doesn’t make the ending any easier to take.

“Scattering Ashes,” Gardner Stage, 1501 N. Gardner, Hollywood, Fridays-Saturdays, 8 p.m.; Sundays, 2 and 7 p.m. Ends April 19. $12; (213) 960-5169. Running time: 2 hours.

A Slick Trip in ‘Two Way Street’

The operative word for Peter DeAnello’s “Two Way Street,” at the Court Theatre, is slick --as slick as the shoes worn by the gun-toting Italian-American buddies (Tony Campisi, Anthony John Denison and Bill Capizzi) from the old days in Gotham who now find themselves pointing the guns at each other on an L.A. rooftop.

The slick repartee, the slick pacing, Denison’s slick-backed hair--any more of this and you could slide right through director Marc Durso’s production. DeAnello fills his comedy with so much Italian verbal goosing that he probably doesn’t mind that there’s no way to follow a plot not even Umberto Eco could deconstruct. Yet we suspect that a lot of the narrative convolutions are just what the play is about.

“Two Way Street,” Court Theatre, 722 N. La Cienega Blvd., Thursdays-Saturdays, 8 p.m.; Sundays, 2 p.m. Ends May 3. $13-$17; (213) 466-1767. Running time: 2 hours.