Show Needs Less Stand-Up, More Theater

The one-person show has become a staple of today’s theater scene. The minimal expense is one factor. No royalties, since most are self-written, is another. Most of them are also autobiographical, which means, if you want to know more about someone you’ve never heard of, this is your chance.

Some are the artists’ sidelong view of life around them. These are the most successful, like Eric Bogosian’s tours de force and Chazz Palminteri’s “A Bronx Tale.”

Stacy Mathewson’s “Son of a Biker,” at the Secret Rose Theatre, falls somewhere in between the blatantly autobiographical and the artist’s take on the people who have added to his sense of humor and insight into life.

It’s a very entertaining hour, for the most part. Mathewson, who has an extensive background as a stand-up comic, puts that experience to full use here. But that’s the main problem with his show. It generally looks more like a stand-up routine than a piece of theater. When he slips away from stand-up and begins to live inside his characters, it comes to life.

The world of South Windsor, Conn., where he grew up, is distinctive, and Mathewson’s view of it is sometimes sentimental and usually funny. His central character is his father, a lifelong biker, with attitudes typical and telling.

After Mathewson moved to Los Angeles, his father called to find out how he was doing. With a chuckle, his dad asked if he was doing gay porn. No? With another chuckle, what about straight porn? Dad has a great sense of humor. Of course, Dad got his SAG card first, after a bit in a movie in Daytona Beach. He could afford to chuckle.

Dad’s Harley hog was the center of his life. His Harley was in the spare bedroom, while Granny slept in the garage. A stretch for a gag? Yes, but it says a lot about Dad’s mind-set, like the photos of naked ladies astride Harleys that decorated the house.

That formative world also contained Mathewson’s buddies, and they’re the highlights of the evening. His friends all worshiped his dad. They understood him. He was their kind. Since Mathewson had a girl’s name--Stacy--they gave him a dreaded teenage nickname: He was Stayfree Mathewpads for a long time.

Both Jeff and Tom are sharp portraits, especially Tom, who wound up in ballet class in college, or “movement for the actor.” Doing barre exercises doesn’t keep Tom’s macho defenses from squealing between plies.

Just as truthful and just as outrageous is Mathewson’s oldest and best friend, Norm, who, while lifting weights, advises him on making out. He also instructs Mathewson in the gyrations of the only dance that will really win the girl, the Crank. It’s a delicious moment and spotlights Mathewson’s ease with physical comedy.

Mathewson belongs on a sitcom. He’s funny, charming and good-looking, and some of this material might get him there. But as a piece of real theater, this current effort is like a Harley still wearing its training wheels.

*

BE THERE

“Son of a Biker,” Secret Rose Theatre, 11246 Magnolia Blvd., North Hollywood. Thursdays, 8 p.m. Ends March 23. $10. (818) 623-7055. Running time: 1 hour, 10 minutes.