‘Little Murders’ Still Wields a Sharp Razor

Time has finally caught up with “Little Murders.”

Jules Feiffer’s black comedy outraged audiences in 1967 with its depiction of a “normal” American family embracing the disintegration of society with a gleeful plunge into armed urban combat.

A skillful staging by John Pleshette for Actors Conservatory Ensemble at the Lex Theatre reminds us just how prophetic Feiffer’s razor-edged satire has proven.

During a serendipitous lecture last week at the Santa Barbara Writers Conference, Feiffer said that he wrote “Little Murders” because of his growing conviction that “something had gone seriously wrong in this country, something that no one was willing to look at or talk about. . . . I expected the show to close after three weeks, and it did.”

But the tidal onslaught of random violence has so saturated our cultural perspective that looking the other way is no longer an option, and yesterday’s cynicism turns out to be today’s realism. Not surprisingly, “Little Murders” has gained popularity in subsequent revivals.

The Newquist family at the center of the play is an amalgam of bankrupt ideals, rendered with the same terse, penetrating wit of Feiffer’s cartoon strips--a father (Dennis Redfield) who struts about with the false bravado of Neanderthal masculinity, a deferential mother (Andrea Stein) who clings to outdated notions of propriety, an effeminate son (Joe Balogh) who applies his graduate school education to classics like “Harlots of Venus.”

When daughter Patsy (Kristin Zaslow) arrives for dinner with fiance Alfred (James Hardie) in tow, it’s clear her obsession for mixing romance with social work is facing “the toughest reclamation job I’ve ever had.”

Alfred’s self-styled “apathist” stance is a fiercely, self-protective refusal to participate in the world, and while Hardie’s performance initially mistakes this rock-like defiance for soft passivity, he shines in the second half, when tragic circumstances ironically trigger Alfred’s re-entry into society.

A savage society to be sure, in which no one escapes caustic scrutiny--not the judge (Stefan Gierasch) who eulogizes his immigrant origins, the hip Reverend (Charles Hyman) who performs Alfred’s hilariously irreverent marriage ceremony or the befuddled police detective (John Freeland Jr.) desperately seeking a pattern in the city’s outbreak of sniper attacks. In Feiffer’s world, there are no innocent bystanders.

* “Little Murders,” Lex Theatre, 6760 Lexington Ave., Hollywood. Thursdays-Saturdays, 8 p.m.; Sundays, 2 p.m. Runs indefinitely. $10. (213) 463-6244. Running time: 2 hours.

A Modern Fable About Power of Love

“Love Diatribe” is such a sweet, delicate modern fable about neurotic barriers and the transformative power of love that the grim reality of author Harry Kondoleon’s recent death from AIDS would seem to negate his play’s fragile optimism.

But don’t underestimate Kondoleon’s dexterity as a playwright--he keeps his message rather than his personal tragedy in the limelight.

Tackling the dysfunctional family of the ‘90s head-on, Kondoleon presents about as unsympathetic a brood of self-absorbed whiners as you could find this side of a narcissists convention, and miraculously finds a way to make us like them.

Not at first, mind you--the already strained relations in this clan threaten to come completely unglued when the two grown children move back in with their parents.

“I’d rather go back to the old inanities than adjust to new ones,” declares daughter Sandy (Alice Haberman), admitting her failure as an independent adult. Her equally immature brother Orin (Mark Burton) returns after the death of a girlfriend we’re not even sure he cared about.

Like son, like father--dear old dad (Harrison Young) is a graceless buffoon who prefers muttering at his children’s discarded clothing than face-to-face conversation, while Mom (Ann Fairlie), a nurse at the local hospital, brings all her frustrations and morbid fixations home with her.

Toss in a pushy next-door neighbor (Susan Nickells, who perfectly blends Florence Henderson perkiness with acid venom), and her oafish son (J. T. Nickells), and you’ve got a seemingly sure-fire recipe for domestic hell.

It remains for a mysterious pixie-like visitor (Stacey Shaffer) to supply the healing influence courtesy of an herbal potion that induces that most effective cure for interpersonal strife--clarity of vision, and the tolerance that goes with it.

The inspired goofiness in director Stuart K. Robinson’s deliberately cartoonish staging at Theatre 1761 amplifies the play’s magical elements, albeit with some sacrificed naturalism.

Magic couldn’t keep Kondoleon with us, but he clearly left a little of it behind.

* “Love Diatribe,” Theatre 1761, 1761 N. Vermont Ave., Los Feliz. Wednesdays, 8 p.m; Saturday, 10:30 p.m. Runs indefinitely. $5.94. (213) 660-8587. Running time: 1 hour, 20 minutes.

Solid Performances Help ‘Vanities’

The sight of three high school cheerleaders primping themselves as the audience files in for Jack Heifner’s “Vanities” sets the tone for the hilariously vapid dialogue to follow.

The most serious issues these girls face is coordinating their pom-pom poses and planning their attire for the upcoming prom.

But in a way, they’re products of their era--the unreflected complacency of 1963--and there’s an engaging innocence to their inane banter, even as we’re appalled at their selfishness.

No Divaz Allow’d Productions’ staging at the Complex features an all-black cast that neatly emphasizes the play’s universal appeal without a whiff of altered agenda.

Tracing the trio’s evolving personalities through three stages of life--high school, college and approaching 30--the comedy modulates into an increasingly serious meditation on the inevitable schisms and uncertainties wrought by the passage of time.

Director Kim Fields’ decision to portray the girlfriends with different actresses in each scene allows us the bargain opportunity to witness nine capable performances for the price of three.

Since the characters’ basic parameters are broadly defined--the energetic group leader (Julie Ann Lucas, Beverly Griffith, Gigi Bolden), the prissy homemaker (Wendy Raquel Robinson, Devika Parikh, Charmin Lee) and the promiscuous rebel (Yolanda Snowball, Jozie Hill, Teresa Truesdale)--there’s no trouble telling who’s who when a new team takes over.

Yet with only five-year intervals separating the three scenes, the variance introduced by the revolving cast members is so extreme it’s ultimately distracting (Truesdale’s jaded sophistication doesn’t follow organically from Hill’s angry sarcasm, for example, though both are among the show’s strongest performances.) More consistency of interpretation is warranted than we get from this triple casting strategy, which too often plays like an acting class exercise.

* “Vanities,” Complex, 6476 Santa Monica Blvd., Hollywood. Thursdays-Saturdays, 8 p.m. Ends July 16. $12. (213) 466-1767. Running time: 1 hour, 50 minutes.