‘It’s Only’ a Success

The enterprising theater company called Stages began as a self-described underground theater. A couple of years ago, it decided to go public, and, for the most part, its efforts have been notable.

With its staging of Terrence McNally’s “It’s Only a Play,” the company jumps into the mainstream with a little gem, as classy as it can be.

“It’s Only a Play” is a sort of ‘90s update of Moss Hart’s classic comedy “Light Up the Sky,” about theater folk falling apart on opening night. McNally’s take on a disastrous Broadway opening has its charms, with timely inside digs at theater conventions and lifestyles.

Director Amanda DeMaio never allows the outsize performances of her fine cast to go overboard; the characterizations sing with richness and depth. And DeMaio understands comic timing and the subtle rhythm changes that make humor work on stage.

James Wicker (Patrick Gwaltney), star of a television series called “Out on a Limb,” has come to New York for the opening night of “The Golden Egg,” a play by his bosom buddy Peter Austin (Adam Clark). Wicker rose to stardom in Austin’s first play off-off-Broadway, and the ties between them are strong. Yet dark clouds surround Austin’s first Broadway effort, and even Wicker describes it as a turkey. That’s when the fun begins.

Gwaltney’s blase pseudo-humility as the TV star hits every note, particularly when it crumbles into a pouting career sweat after his series is canceled. Clark’s volatile and equally childish playwright, egoistic to the core, is especially funny as the bad reviews come in, with alligator tears and a plea to God for one good review.

The caricatures of the playwright’s entourage are recognizable. Cynthia Ryanen is wonderful as Virginia Noyes, the aging actress who flopped in Hollywood and is trying to make a stage comeback, with grand dramatics and an often hysterical self-involvement. K.C. Mercer, as the avant-garde director who wants a bad review because he knows his work stinks, keeps his performance low key to funny effect.

David Amitin’s on-target sleazy theater critic is almost a latter-day sendup of Alexander Woollcott, mincing and self-serving, and with a play of his own to hawk. Tracy Perdue avoids overdoing the dumbness of Julia Budder, the play’s producer, and Mo Arii and Patti Cumby are excellent as, respectively, an out-of-work actress hired to serve at the party and the cabdriver who brings the big review from the New York Times.

BE THERE

“It’s Only a Play,” Stages, 1188 N. Fountain Way, Suite E, Anaheim. Friday-Saturday, 8 p.m.; Sunday, 6 p.m. Ends March 1. (714) 630-3059. $10. Running time: 2 hours, 10 minutes.