THEATER REVIEW : Magical ‘Mooncalf’ Sends Mixed Messages

Leon Martell doesn’t play it safe.

For half of “Mooncalf,” the playwright spins a realistic tale about blue-collar Americans struggling to maintain their humanity in a rural factory. After intermission, the workers’ psychic landscape is suddenly exposed through hallucinations, violent rampages and lurid dreams. It’s a bold attempt to merge John Steinbeck’s naturalism with David Lynch’s magic realism.

Martell’s gamble at the Road Theatre only half succeeds. The scenes in Depression docudrama style lack conviction. Packed with expositional detail and predictable character development, they focus on a mentally handicapped worker named Timmy who resembles Lenny of “Of Mice and Men.” Timmy is content to clean cowhides in acid vats, even though his hair falls out from the chemicals.

But Timmy’s happiness conceals nightmares. When “Mooncalf” plunges under the surface of working-class routine, the writing and acting erupt with potent theatrical effects. Apparitions emerge from steaming vats of toxic waste. A pet calf becomes symbolic of polluted nature.

Vince Moore’s split-level, modular set captures both sides of Martell’s tale. The corrugated sheet metal factory walls loom like an oppressive prison, while the tanning vat steams with surreal mystery. David Flad’s poetic lighting is alternately harsh and haunting.

What ultimately undermines Martell’s vision are stock characterizations. Christopher Faville works hard to make Timmy compelling, but the sentimentality and predictability sabotage his ambition. Lance Guest and Ken Sawyer portray cruel co-workers who tease Timmy, but their brutality is also predictable. William Fuller as the factory boss has nothing new to add to his cliche personality. Karen Gregan as the blonde temptress and Genet Bosque as Timmy’s mother seem to emerge from Depression-era pulp fiction.

* “Mooncalf,” The Road Theatre, 14141 Covello 9-D, Van Nuys. Thursdays-Sundays, 8 p.m. Ends Oct. 10. $12.50. (818) 785-6175. Running time: 2 hours.

Kahlo’s ‘Pain’ Still a Mystery in Tragic Story

Rarely has a subtitle described a play as precisely as does “Frida Kahlo: Self-Portrait of Pain.” At Nosotros Theatre in Hollywood, the legendary Mexican artist suffers . She hurts . For two hours and 20 minutes, Kahlo endures childhood polio, a crippling traffic accident, marriage to muralist Diego Rivera, miscarriages, betrayals, nervous breakdowns, anorexia, spinal surgeries, depression, anemia, gangrene, amputation, failed suicide attempts and pneumonia--a minor disease, all things considered, but the one finally ending her calvary.

So should we feel guilty for being riveted by such suffering? Not when the actress is Yvette Cruise, whose uncanny absorption by Kahlo includes an eerie physical resemblance. Cruise displays a breathtaking, exhausting, tragic range. Her capture of Kahlo’s courage and integrity is balanced by pathetic breakdowns that chill the blood. (Note: This is a bilingual, dual cast production by Grupo de Teatro Sinergia; Alejandra Flores will portray Kahlo on alternate evenings.)

Director-writer Ruben Amavizca opens with Kahlo’s death in 1954. Her husband Diego Rivera (a workmanlike, physically accurate Jose Salgado) sleeps in a chair beside the bed. A mannequin Judas (an impressive Eddie Padilla), a gift from Rivera to Kahlo, comes alive. Kahlo rises from death to narrate her autobiography, assisted by the Judas figure.

But the text bogs down in numerous incidents, offering few glimpses behind the enigmatic persona. Although Cruise’s tormented portrait mirrors Kahlo’s suffering, it never reveals the creative process that overcame such horrendous obstacles. Pain miraculously led to painting, but how? Kahlo’s soul remains veiled in mystery at Nosotros.

* “Frida Kahlo: Self-Portrait of Pain,” Nosotros Theatre, 1314 N. Wilton Place, Hollywood. Fridays-Saturdays, 8 p.m., Sundays, 7 p.m. Ends Oct. 17. $10. (213) 876-0608. Running time: 2 hours, 20 minutes.

Dare We Even Ask Where Art Thou, ‘Romeo’?

Another “Romeo and Juliet?” How many productions of Shakespeare’s popular tragedy can Los Angeles support?

There are numerous reasons for going to the latest, and there are reasons for staying home.

To go: The Ivy Substation in Culver City is an intoxicating new space with infinite potential. Built in 1903, the former Pacific Railway station offers built-in drama with its Mission-style facade, high ceiling, brick walls and weathered doors. Director Carol Fox Prescott’s energetic cast imaginatively exploits the space. Clare Carey’s Juliet is charismatic and heartbreaking, while David Burke Chrisman’s Romeo displays an adolescent urgency mating sex and death. Jim Fyfe is a memorable Mercutio, and Juliet’s nurse is a tragic fool, thanks to Judith Greentree.

Or not to go: The space’s acoustics haven’t been perfected and sometimes muffle the poetry. The ensemble is occasionally over-wrought. We know how it ends.

* “Romeo and Juliet,” The Ivy Substation, 9070 Venice Blvd., Culver City. Tuesdays-Thursdays, 8 p.m., Saturdays-Sundays, 8 p.m. Ends Oct. 10. $10. (213) 656-2117. Running time: 3 hours, 15 minutes.

‘Home’ Is Where Range of Rage Roams Abundantly

“Home,” Samm-Art Williams’ autobiographical verse play about a North Carolina farmer’s nostalgia for his roots, receives a curious interpretation at Theatre 40. Director Jerry Beal has muted the rural sentiments while emphasizing urban rage. It’s as if Spike Lee chose to direct “Huckleberry Finn” from the escaped slave’s perspective.

Anthony Griffith’s farmer is reserved and diffident, concealing his anger beneath a shy demeanor, then erupting with savage fury. The chorus of Cheryl Tyre Smith and Patricia Forte efficiently support him.

Rage exists in “Home,” especially when the farmer is imprisoned for refusing military service during the Vietnam War, then exploited in the city. Growing up in a segregated state causes wounds that might never heal. But the playwright’s point is to celebrate grace and forgiveness. “Home” should be a state of mind, not just a place.

* “Home,” Theatre 40, 241 Moreno Drive, Beverly Hills. Sundays-Tuesdays, 8 p.m. Ends Sept. 28. $10. (213) 466-1767. Running time: 1 hour, 45 minutes.

‘No-Man’s Land’: Psycho-Babble Just Prattles On

There is a horrifying implication in Tania Myren’s post-apocalyptic fable, “The Further Adventures of Anse and Bhule in No-Man’s Land.” Further? Could it be that this pretentious, pseudo-poetic psycho-babble is a sequel? Could there be yet another tale about a hit team wandering a desert wasteland in search of female sacrifices, uttering lines like, “What are you but a faint metallic echo in a lost and silent land?”

The Burbage Theatre Ensemble struggles valiantly to redeem the egregious script.

* “The Further Adventures of Anse and Bhule in No-Man’s Land,” Burbage Theatre, 2330 Sawtelle Blvd., Los Angeles. Fridays-Saturdays, 7:30 p.m., Sundays, 7 p.m. Ends Oct. 10. $15. (310) 478-0897. Running time: 1 hour, 30 minutes.