THEATER REVIEW : Last Chance at Romance Falls Short : The intimate Backstage and its farewell selection, ‘Frankie and Johnny,’ are meant for each other, but the lovers are all wrong.

It’s easy to sense, listening to Terrence McNally’s “Frankie and Johnny in the Clair de Lune” at the Backstage Theatre, that--Broadway production or not, movie or not--this small space is the kind of place McNally intended for his intimate, two-lovers-in-a-tussle play.

That ideal won’t be around much longer, as this will be the Backstage’s final act before it closes for good next month. Yet, while the space may be ideal, director Tom Titus’ production is far from it: so far, at points, that you wish things weren’t quite so intimate.

As always with McNally (“The Lisbon Traviata,” “Lips Together, Teeth Apart”), the setup is glib and facile: Short-order cook Johnny (Ellis Martin) has managed to get waitress Frankie (Lynn Laguna) into bed, and both sound like they are enjoying themselves.

Of course, words get in the way (wordsmith McNally’s best hidden joke is how love works best without talk), especially when Johnny declares that he’s frankly smitten with Frankie.

They are scarred veterans of the love and matrimonial wars, old enough to realize they’re the elders at a Springsteen concert, and Frankie is especially wary of courtship.

While McNally admirably resists turning her problem into the old psychobabble that Frankie is wary of herself (something that makes this an ‘80s, and not a ‘70s, play), he can’t resist turning Johnny into a comic-book romantic. This is a man who sees Frankie combing her hair as a natural wonder on line with the Grand Canyon. Nobody says that, not even in contemporary New York romances.

Still, it’s easy to go with Johnny’s obstinate refusal to hear Frankie’s “no,” his quest for the “most beautiful music” and his desire to “connect.” That last is the play’s key word, and McNally’s duologue is a kind of equation on how it happens.

But for it to happen on the stage, the actors also have to connect, and Martin and Laguna are missing each other by several time zones. Actually, Laguna knows her place: Her Frankie may be more beautiful than McNally intends, but she is a little worn at the edges, while unafraid to display her lust. It’s an interesting mix in one person, and Laguna seems to know all the ingredients.

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On the other hand, it’s hard to tell what Martin is thinking or what Titus has instructed him to do. Martin is full of shtick: He has a lock on the Gabe Kaplan school of deadpanning sarcasm, but what that has to do with Johnny is anyone’s guess.

His shtick style works so long as the jokes are flying, but--because Johnny is the play’s emotional conductor and actually uses his vulnerability as a kind of nice-guy’s weapon--the style is suddenly a vise for Martin.

Just when the play puts its heart on its sleeve, Martin literally stiffens up and turns vocally flat, as if the emotions were too much for him.

For some other guy, maybe; Johnny isn’t just some other guy. He quotes Shakespeare in the moonlight, for goodness sake. The Frankie and Johnny here are in the clair de lune all right (Jeffrey Ault’s lighting is a bit harsher than it should be), but the illumination on each of these characters is like night and day.

It’s not a matter of poor chemistry, like the kind between Al Pacino and Michelle Pfeiffer in the film version. It’s a matter of no connection, which isn’t McNally’s ideal at all.

* “Frankie and Johnny in the Clair de Lune,” Backstage Theatre Company, 1559 Superior Ave., Costa Mesa. Fridays-Saturdays, 8 p.m.; Sundays, 7 p.m. Ends Jan. 30. $15. (714) 646-5887. Running time: 2 hours, 10 minutes. Lynn Laguna: Frankie

Ellis Martin: Johnny

A Backstage Theatre Company production of Terrence McNally’s play. Directed by Tom Titus. Lights: Jeffrey Ault.