‘Boys of Summer’ Minor-League Fare

Inside Cal Rep Theatre, Los Angeles Dodger announcer Vin Scully’s lilting voice introduces “The Boys of Summer”--catcher Roy Campanella, pitcher Carl Erskine, right fielder Carl Furillo, relief pitcher Clem Labine, second baseman Jackie Robinson. It’s opening day, 1951, and we’re in Ebbets Field, Brooklyn!

Play ball!

Alas, after the first musical pitch we know that baseball is the least important game in California Repertory Company’s world premiere. Sportswriter Roger Kahn’s classic memoir about the Brooklyn Dodgers is packed with fertile material, but Howard Burman’s musical adaptation shifts the focus off the field and into the locker room. There he betrays a woeful misunderstanding of the players and the game. This may be caused by Burman changing the book’s focus on the 1952 and 1953 World Series losing teams. Instead, he sets the musical during the 1951 season that ended with Bobby Thompson’s home run for the Giants.

Since Kahn didn’t cover that season, Burman must do his own research. He fails to effectively dramatize the 1951 pennant race.

Nor do Burman’s lyrics evoke a feeling for the game. “They were the boys of summer,” sings tenor Jonathan Mack as narrator Kahn, “and they played the game to their own drummer. . . .” The show’s melodies are borrowed from Mozart, Schumann, Stephen Foster and W. C. Handy, among others. Such lack of musical originality increases the feeling that we’ve heard it all somewhere else before.

But the tireless ensemble scores with athletic grace. Especially fine is Mack, whose delivery of the sportswriter’s chiseled prose soars with a home-run hitter’s power. George Anthony Bell is memorable as Campanella, the upbeat catcher whose contagious clowning transformed sullen locker rooms into funhouses. Charles Douglass is an impressive Robinson, dignified despite an inner rage at 1950s major league baseball, “a temple of white supremacy.”

The second act transfers the players to 1972 Dodgers Stadium in Los Angeles. On Old Timer’s Day, the wheelchair-bound Campanella and his graying teammates reminisce about “lost reflexes.” The boys could also curse this “lost chance.”

“The Boys of Summer” might as well be titled “The Boys From Syracuse”--we’re on the same musical comedy field. But this isn’t in the same stadium as Rodgers and Hart--we’re definitely in the minor leagues.

* “The Boys of Summer,” Cal Rep Theatre, California State University campus (corner of 7th Street and W. Campus Drive), Long Beach. Wednesdays-Saturdays, 8 p.m., Saturday matinees, 2 p.m. Ends Nov. 20. $15. (310) 985-5526. Running time: 2 hours.

‘Painted Eggs’ an Ambitious Outing

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Director-writer Robin Russin’s “Painted Eggs” at the Harman Avenue Theater is an ambitious, heart-felt examination of the Ukrainian immigrant subculture. The title refers to the centuries-old tradition of painting eggs with symbolic designs. The message is that second-generation Americans hoping to ignore their roots--such as playboy Marko (Michael George Benko)--will succumb to trivial pursuits. Only by embracing a culture’s past, here symbolized by mail-order bride Kateryna (Christina Ladysh), can such relative newcomers to America find their true nature.

These anti-materialism messages are delivered by a 12-character, gifted cast in cinematic scenes that would be better served by film. Russin co-wrote the script “On Deadly Ground” for Steven Seagal, and his imagination definitely belongs on the screen. His stage direction is plodding and indulgent.

But when Russin explores character and time in a theatrical style, especially with an aged grandmother’s memories of Nazi atrocities (delivered with harrowing intensity by Harriet Rakell), “Painted Eggs” is hypnotic.

* “Painted Eggs,” Harman Avenue Theater, 522 N. La Brea Ave., Los Angeles. Thursdays-Saturdays, 8 p.m. Ends Nov. 20. $12. (213) 466-1767. Running time: 2 hours, 30 minutes.

‘Manson’--It’s Psychedelic, Man

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Like, wow.

A musical comedy about the sex-crazed killer of Sharon Tate? Such a concept might silence a studio’s story meeting, but “the light side of Chuck Manson” becomes perfect territory for the outrageous Theatre-A-Go-Go company. At the Coast Playhouse on Saturday nights, these young entertainers offer groovy flashbacks to the 1960s in “Manson: The Musical.”

We revisit Manson’s cult family on its ranch, watch the Beatles brilliantly elude a journalist’s questions about “helter skelter,” see the Beach Boys stumble over queries about Dennis Wilson’s sponsorship of Manson, and giggle at the Monkees. Vincent Bugliosi is back, chasing fame, and so are Manson’s girls Squeaky, Sadie, Katie and Lulu.

The orgies are simulated, as are the murders, in kitsch horror-film styles. Each victim remains gratefully dead. Tom Booker’s Manson is a howl, right on target with his incoherent, LSD-twisted sermons. Joe Kean’s Tex has little similarity to the original Manson sidekick--he’s played as an English intellectual dandy--but the ironic pose somehow fits. Christina Dunn’s Gypsy, the groupie who refused to bathe, is inspired.

The music, as with this troupe’s previous satire on Patty Hearst’s kidnaping, isn’t Broadway bound. Lyrics rhyme sex with hex, for example, and the dances seem drug-induced. But what the hex? “Manson: The Musical” captures the spirit of the psychedelic era--it’s far-out.

* “Manson: The Musical,” The Coast Playhouse, 8325 Santa Monica Blvd., West Hollywood. Saturdays, 11 p.m. Ends Nov. 20. $9.99. (213) 883-9536. Running time: 1 hour,30 minutes.

‘Picture’ Fails to Connect the Dots

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At Theatre/Theater, “What’s Wrong With This Picture?” is what’s wrong. Grace Walcott’s autobiographical solo show about her relationship with an abusive mother neglects to fill in all the dots. What’s missing is not only mother-daughter communication but sympathy for the audience. It’s a self-indulgent exercise in self-help, hopefully therapeutic for Walcott but confusing and rarely compelling for outsiders to the family drama.

Walcott’s attempts to “become” mother, daughter and grandmother might succeed if delivered by a highly skilled, trained actress. But as a performance artist, her manic personality transformations resemble Tony Perkins in “Psycho.”

* “What’s Wrong With This Picture?,” Theatre/Theater, 1713 Cahuenga Blvd., Hollywood. Thursdays-Fridays, 8 p.m. Ends Nov. 19. $10. (213) 469-9689. Running time: 1 hour.

‘Jobs’ Showcase for Some Gifted Actors

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The title says it all, except there are actually six actors in “Four Actors Looking for Jobs” at the Tamarind Theatre. Three minor one-acts blatantly showcase performers from Charles Nelson Reilly’s Faculty Actors’ Workshop. But for once a showcase production delightfully entertains while exhibiting gifted actors, thanks in part to the direction by Charles Durning.

The first exercise, “Sure Thing,” is a boy-meets-girl-meets-boy-meets . . . on-and-on goes the courtship, in a droll coffeehouse set-up. The second, “Dolores,” is less successful, but Rosie Taravella emerges as a very gifted character actress playing an abused spouse. The last piece, “Buck Fever,” is somewhat contrived, but all is forgiven because of Christopher V. Alessi’s brilliant comic gifts. Alessi evokes more laughter from a deadpan expression than Howard Stern can from a book of insults. His career is definitely going somewhere up, so catch Alessi while he’s still on the stage.

* “Four Actors Looking for Jobs,” Tamarind Theatre, 5919 Franklin Ave., Hollywood. Mondays-Wednesdays, 8 p.m. Ends Nov. 24. $10. (818) 753-3313. Running time: 1 hour, 30 minutes.