‘Family’s’ TV Expose Wanders From Script

In “The Family of Mann,” now being presented by the Attic Theatre at the Players Space, playwright Theresa Rebeck displays the epigrammatic flair that she showed in “Loose Knit,” “Spike Heels” and “Sunday on the Rocks,” her freewheeling comedies about modern women on the cusp of change. What Rebeck lacks, at least in this outing, is the glacial self-analysis needed to refine her work.

As a result, Rebeck’s initially biting sendup eventually succumbs to emotional excess. A particular case in point is Rebeck’s semiautobiographical central character, Belinda (Carrie Quinn Dolin), a fledgling television writer who makes an irritating transition from the wry to the whiny during the course of Rebeck’s undisciplined and long-winded narrative.

In the play, Belinda, a college instructor with a doctorate, submits a spec script to TV producer Ed (Bill Hagy) and is hired as a story editor on “The Family of Mann,” Ed’s new sitcom. New to L.A., Belinda finds herself plunged into a vortex of narcissism, sexism and flagrant temperament on her high-paying but frustrating new job.

At first, Belinda is Ed’s golden girl, much to the chagrin of her back-stabbing and hypercompetitive colleagues. However, as Belinda soon learns, Ed is a monster of egotism who requires a fawning sycophancy she ultimately cannot deliver.

Herself a staff writer on various episodic television shows, Rebeck badly wants to make a statement about sexism in the television industry. However, when Belinda gets embroiled in a messy affair with her co-writer Ren (Zack Carter) and collapses into querulous self-pity, we find it hard to sympathize with her plight and easier to understand why she was fired in the first place.

Granted, the theater is ill-equipped and Eric Sydnor’s rudimentary direction fails to compensate for the limitations of the space. Distractions include an amateurish soundtrack and a disastrous set design that requires the actors to frenetically shift furniture between scenes. Nonetheless, the actors--who also double as the cloyingly perfect television family, the Manns--are professional and amusing, particularly Dolin, who glosses over her character’s contradictions with panache. But Rebeck, whose knack for a savage one-liner is undeniable, needs to make another pass at her frustrating but potentially brilliant play.

*

“The Family of Mann,” the Players Space, 4934 Lankershim Blvd., North Hollywood. Fridays-Saturdays, 8 p.m. Ends Dec. 15. $15. (323) 333-8998. Running time: 2 hours, 30 minutes.

F. Kathleen Foley

*

‘Dinner’ Special: Intricate

Plotting, Little Realism

Fans of frenetic sex farce will find that “Don’t Dress for Dinner” at the Eclectic Company Theatre often amuses with its abundance of compounding deceits and high-energy antics--provided you’re willing to forgo even the slightest expectations of realistic behavior.

The intricate plotting of Marc Camoletti’s contemporary French comedy successfully weathers the English adaptation by Robin Hawdon. The premise: An adulterous husband (Erik Bennett) invites his model-actress mistress (Nicole Vasquez) to spend the weekend in his home while his wife (Daphne Ashbrook) is away on a trip. To cover his trail, he also invites his best friend (James Castle Stevens) to the house. But upon learning this, the wife, who is having an affair of her own with the friend, cancels the trip to be with her lover. Toss in the untimely arrival of a hired cook (L.J. Stevens), and you have the recipe for an evening of quick-witted improvising as all concerned become mired in ever more absurd pretended identities and relationships.

Director Paul Millet’s decision to retain the English country setting benefits from classic British reserve in sexual matters, but it poses additional challenges for the cast, whose accents stray at times. The most consistent comic delivery comes from Stevens’ cook and Ashbrook as the calculating wife.

Paul James Palmer makes the most of his plum late-arrival role as the cook’s husband. Unfortunately, as the philandering hero, Bennett seems to have extended the “stiff upper lip” credo to his entire anatomy and character, making him tough to swallow as a Don Juan.

The improbabilities pile up rapidly from there--why would a glamorous model agree to pose as a cook for his sake? Why would they have planned the rendezvous in his home in the first place?

While silliness is an expected component of the genre, farce is always more successful when there is at least a kernel of human truth on which to hang its shenanigans. Here, although the action is tightly constructed according to its premise, the characters never behave in a believable way.

The program notes attempting to tie the piece to a more serious point about artifice in our daily lives are seriously overreaching--this one is best enjoyed without the burden of deeper significance.

*

“Don’t Dress for Dinner,” Eclectic Company Theatre, 5312 Laurel Canyon Blvd., North Hollywood. Fridays-Saturdays, 8 p.m.; Sundays, 3 p.m. Ends Dec. 16. $12 to 15. (818) 508-3003. Running time: 2 hours, 5 minutes.

Philip Brandes

*

‘Owl-Stretching Time’ Built of Python Sketches

Light of intention but leaden in tone, “Owl-Stretching Time,” an evening of never-performed Monty Python sketches at the Santa Monica Playhouse, is a conscientious and well-performed effort that only manages to be intermittently funny.

The sketches, written primarily by the late Monty Python member Graham Chapman, with additional material by John Cleese, Eric Idle and “possibly a few other Pythons,” has been carefully unearthed from Chapman’s personal archives especially for this show.

Tom Konkle, a founding member of the comedy troupe Lester McFwap, directs and also stars. Konkle’s fellow cast members include David Beeler, Michael Lindsay and Michael Neill, McFwap regulars all. Also appearing is Gino C. Vianelli as Queeg-Queeg, a comically misplaced “Moby-Dick” character who kibitzes wordlessly during many of the scenes.

It’s a technically ambitious evening, with an expertly rendered sound design, seamless video segments--and, of course, plenty of good old Python-esque drag. When it’s working, the comedy achieves the zaniness of a British Christmas pantomime. At its worst, it is merely effusive--high-decibel verbiage without a payoff.

Some of this material was simply too sexually explicit to be performed back in Monty Python’s heyday. But much of it is tame stuff that was obviously relegated to the archives for good reason. The excavation of these tidbits by Konkle et al. might hold some sociological interest for true Python buffs. For the general public, however, the bulk of this lengthy evening might prove a slow go.

*

“Owl-Stretching Time,” Santa Monica Playhouse, 1211 4th St., Santa Monica. Fridays-Saturdays, 8 p.m. Ends Jan. 19. $17.50. (323) 655-8587. Running time: 2 hours, 20 minutes.

F. Kathleen Foley