Dunn’s One-Woman ‘Prey’ Captivates With Character

I’m not entirely sure why Nora Dunn’s one-woman show is called “Small Prey,” but I accept it.

I accept it because each character she presents onstage at the Powerhouse Theatre in Santa Monica is like a specialty item, delicately wrapped and beautifully delivered. Characters who were one-note and semi-pointless on “Saturday Night Live”--such as Pat Stevens, the model-turned-talk-show-host who’s so shallow she makes Kathie Lee Gifford look like Wittgenstein--have a shimmer onstage. This is in part due to David Schweizer’s direction, which meets Dunn’s delicacy and sets it off, as if in a jewel box.

If her title has only loose resonance, it’s probably because Dunn has made no effort to tie the evening together with a theme. Her characters simply are; the audience is encouraged to take a Zen-like approach.

Her greatest creation is Joann, a precocious and enchanting child. Moving slowly on a swing, Joann carefully builds a case for the pathetic nature of Mr. Rogers, whose show she watches out of pity. She notices that his closet is empty save for one worn cardigan and that his tennis shoes have no tread. Joann also notes, with lyrical sadness, that Mr. Rogers is entranced by a terrible guest puppeteer and his awful puppet. Dunn performs Joann without condescension, and she represents Dunn’s most successful melding of character and comedy--no laugh here is extraneous.

Dunn connects well with brittle women. A fast-talking Dorothy Parker-like sophisticate is funny when you can hear what she says, and her diva-who’s-seen-better-days, Ashley Glenn Ashley, is a strong satire on familiar terrain. Ms. Ashley’s bio is part Elizabeth Ashley, part Faye Dunaway, and she loves to talk grandly of “the thea-tah” and generally try to justify her existence. “It’s so difficult to produce quality work in this town,” she complains wearily, “so I don’t.”

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An arresting character--a girlfriend to a serial killer--is threaded throughout the evening, speaking to us from a video monitor above the stage. Under her teased hair and hard ways, she little by little reveals an interesting psychosis about celebrity. But, despite this recurring character, the evening has a disjunctive, almost Dadaesque quality--which Schweizer underlines by providing his signature dancing stagehand (Julie Anna Hines), who leaps with inexplicable joy as she moves furniture around. Dada is gently picked up, too, by set designer Scott Siedman, who artfully strews random items on the set, including three whimsical whirligigs (designed by Brian Peck and Kelly Mann) and three small white stools affixed to a white wall.

Dunn’s fine clothes and hats are chosen with obvious care, striking just the right effect for each character. “Small Prey” is a short, captivating mix of the deliberate and the unstructured.

* “Small Prey,” Powerhouse Theatre, 3116 2nd St., Santa Monica, Thursdays-Saturdays, 8 p.m.; Sundays, 7 p.m. Ends Aug. 24. $15. (213) 658-4040. Running time: 1 hour.