Behind the Scenes and Onstage, ‘A Life in the Theatre’

Sometimes, the right groan can make your evening.

In the Pasadena Playhouse production of “A Life in the Theatre,” Hal Holbrook and Rick Stear share a scene parodying the worst droning excesses of every lousy production of Chekhov you’ve ever endured. Costumed--wittily, thanks to designer Scott A. Lane--as a dying-landowner type, Holbrook emits a kind of all-purpose wail in response to various portentous lines. It’s a hoo-larious bit, brought off subtly by a good actor playing a ham actor who may also, in fact, have talent.

David Mamet’s 1977 two-character play is a comically stoic antidote to the terrors of the outside world. It reveals scenes of backstage and onstage life, as shared by a veteran stage actor and a young up-and-comer.

Holbrook and Stear must contend with an arrhythmic staging, hung up on a scenic design demanding leisurely, pace-killing scene changes. (The play’s short, with no intermission, but the scenes number 26.) Still, the acting wins out.

“A Life in the Theatre,” one of Mamet’s early successes, begins with Robert (Holbrook) and John (Stear) in their cramped dressing room, following an opening night. They discuss the audience, which they felt was especially “acute” and “discerning.”

“I feel perhaps they saw a better show than the one we rehearsed,” Robert says, in a choice slice of Mamet logic.

We learn little of these actors’ lives outside the theater. They appear to be employed by the last remaining repertory company in America. (The play was inspired by Mamet’s own experiences in the thriving theatrical mecca of Chicago.) Robert, a creature of much experience and no little vanity, imparts equal parts wisdom and blather to John. What is style? he asks John. “Style is nothing . . . style is a paper bag. Its only shape comes from its contents.”

It is a play of tiny, cumulative interactions. Robert attempts suicide in a late scene, but Mamet has the tact to not play this false, or overhype it. When the lonely Robert refers to “a life spent in the theatre,” the double meaning is glanced upon, then tucked away.

The play primarily is a comedy, however. “A Life in the Theatre” presents scenes from various faux plays of various genres: a French Revolution epic; a “Men in White”-style hospital melodrama; a sea epic straight from early O’Neill; and a nightmare vision of Chekhov, shot through with pauses weighing several thousand tons apiece.

Holbrook as Robert represents unusual casting for this role. Robert is often played by an actor conveying a more florid and fussy aura than Holbrook does. He works extremely well on his own craggy terms, and Stear has an appealingly steely Campbell Scott quality. The evening’s best scenes work on the off-beat. When Holbrook’s Robert, upon learning that John has auditioned for another job, says, simply, “That would be nice for you,” and then looks at himself in the makeup mirror, vaguely stricken.

Director Michael Michetti finesses individual moments with care. But he never should have signed off on scenic designer Gary Wissmann’s conception. Trying, perhaps, to pump up a little play for a big stage, Wissmann creates a setting presenting mirror-image perspectives of one old theater stage, with a proscenium arch upstage and another one--the real one--downstage.

In repose it looks right. But over and over, we’re stuck waiting between scenes, while panels glide on and off, or flats rise and fall. It’s no way to heighten the script’s minimalist strengths. Mitch Greenhill’s cheesy, synthesizer-programmed musical score doesn’t help, either.

Holbrook and Stear are enough to compensate. People beat scenery, as the saying goes.

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“A Life in the Theatre,” Pasadena Playhouse, 39 S. El Molino Ave., Pasadena. Tuesdays-Fridays, 8 p.m.; Saturdays, 5 and 9 p.m.; Sundays, 2 and 7 p.m. Ends Oct. 21. $15-$42.50. (626) 356-PLAY. Running time: 1 hour, 30 minutes.

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Hal Holbrook: Robert

Rick Stear: John

Written by David Mamet. Directed by Michael Michetti. Scenic design by Gary Wissmann. Costumes by Scott A. Lane. Lighting by Michael Gilliam. Sound design and original music by Mitch Greenhill. Production stage manager Ed De Shae.