Stage Light

Why is it that, at least in the English-speaking theater, some of our greatest plays are in verse, and yet spoken poetry on stage almost never succeeds?

This kind of problematic poetry-theater is on display in director Nicholas Nicholas’ intimate show, “SevenHearts,” at Actors Workout Studio.

It falls into a performance no-man’s-land. On one end are plays whose language relies on the musicality of verse, as in Shakespeare and Moliere (especially poet Richard Wilbur’s translations). On the other end are poets reading their work, such as the great W.S. Merwin at The Times’ recent Festival of Books.

Like music on top of comedy, Wilbur’s Moliere uses rhyme as an entertaining bonus to a project where the play’s still the thing. A Merwin presentation is strictly about the power of language, and how our ears translate words into image and meaning.

“SevenHearts” tries to be both of these, and ends up being neither. Nicholas collects six poets (some of them also actors) on stage as a kind of three-dimensional anthology, each performing his or her own work in an alternating cycle. Poems are organized along such hoary themes as sex, solitude, self-image, loss, death and prayer. The seventh of these “Hearts” is either the offstage sound of a beating heart or us, the listeners, although this is never clear.

Nicholas’ control of pace and structure is fine. A tight grouping of the actors occupies a corner of the stage--lighted with dramatic spots by designer Lena Bouton--and audience members are seated in front and onstage, creating a mood that demands our attention. Indeed, this primary stage image expresses the intrinsic tension between solitude and the human need for companionship more powerfully than the poems themselves.

This collection of mostly free, mostly solipsistic verse is mostly forgettable. A few of the pieces by the show’s best and most engaging performer, Teresa Willis, hang on in the mind precisely because Willis is performing them. Witty works like Willis’ “Jesus on a Coaster” or “Beauty Supply Store” provide needed relief from the program’s predominantly morose tone, but they would be much less if read on the page.

There’s the rub. The best-performed verse--free or not--is always strongest on the page, and then always worth rereading. Little of the work in “SevenHearts” would be worth reading once.

Benjamin Pierce performs in an affected rebel stance, and as a writer, he painfully relies on words such as “crazy” instead of conveying what that word suggests. Opposite Willis’ energy are Susan Touchbourne’s heartfelt but poorly read auto-poems and Maryellen Owens’ more darkly hued pieces, which she performs with forced dramatics.

Nicholas’ work suggests a naughty, rebellious guy influenced by both John Rechy and Henry Miller, but it lacks any of the subtext of good poetry.

The oddest touch is saved for last, when poet Diana Hrabowecki--who has been silent and depressed-looking during the whole show--finally performs a weepy, self-absorbed prayer to God.

It all demonstrates that when the poetry doesn’t sing, and the dramatic tension isn’t felt, all the hearts that can fit on a small stage aren’t enough.

*

“SevenHearts,” Actors Workout Studio, 4735 Lankershim Blvd., North Hollywood. Sundays, 3 p.m. Ends May 16. (323) 225-9924. $10. Running time: 1 hour, 30 minutes.