‘Bozena’ Clowns Take Hip Road to Lowbrow

Old forms of lowbrow entertainment never really go out of style--if all else fails, with a few knowing winks and a postmodern label, they can always be remarketed to more sophisticated tastes. Witness the proliferation of hip magicians, hip circus acts and--in the case of New York’s “The New Bozena”--hip clowns.

With this amiable trio of self-styled “postmodern clowns for slackers,” a little high-concept modern alienation goes a long way. To the perpetual bewilderment of their usually silent or gibberish-uttering characters, everyday objects like clock radios, sandwiches and coin sorters become unfathomably alien and at times vaguely menacing.

In a world where human beings have lost control over their physical surroundings, setting a dinner table becomes a near-heroic triumph for a klutzy waiter (David Costabile). In another segment, a never-ending stream of pencils prove a nightmare for an office worker (Michael Dahlen) as they sprout from his desk, his briefcase and even his clothes. For a floor-mopping hospital orderly (Kevin Isola), an unattended patient and operating gadgets prove too great a temptation to resist, with wickedly grotesque results. Even a “fake” intermission offers no respite as the three find themselves trapped onstage while the set changers go about their business.

The troupe’s clown skills aren’t anywhere near the professional standards set by recent exemplars such as the “Fool Moon” duo. Nevertheless, the three are capable actors who maintain sympathetic characters through these tribulations, which culminate in their audition and casting in an amusing if overlong community theater production of the Estonian classic, “Winter Is the Coldest Season” (delivered in a made-up native dialect). There’s quirky pathos in a recurring soap opera about a sexually errant friend (played by director Rainn Wilson) who sows discord between two giant birds (Melissa Toth’s fanciful costumes are worthy of “Sesame Street”).

The good-natured innocence and utter absence of pretension in these sketches, combined with unexpected bursts of dexterity, win us over in the end. But the postmodern positioning is a stretch--there’s no message about alienation here that Charlie Chaplin didn’t exemplify, and far more adroitly at that.

*

* “The New Bozena,” Hudson Mainstage, 6537 Santa Monica Blvd., Hollywood. Thursdays-Saturdays, 8 p.m.; Sundays, 3 p.m. Ends March 14. $20. (323) 856-4200. Running time: 1 hour, 20 minutes.