A Yearning for the Unheard Voices in ‘Talking Heads’

Are staged monologues half full or half empty?

While I watched the first two or three of Alan Bennett’s “Talking Heads” monologues at the Tiffany Theaters Sunday, they seemed more than half full. Speaking directly to the audience, each solo actor created a character and also told a compelling tale with just a few simple strokes. The compression was impressive.

As the monologues continued, however, the empty side of the ledger became apparent. In my unspoken thoughts, I was talking back to the talking heads: “OK, we’ve heard your side. Now let’s see and hear directly from the other characters.” Sometimes we want to see the whole play.

Because of their appearances on television, Bennett’s “Talking Heads” are some of the best-known monologues of recent years. Yet three of the seven that are staged at the Tiffany by Michael Engler (six opened Saturday and Sunday, and a seventh will be added next weekend) have never been presented on any stage, even in Bennett’s native England.

Only three of the seven are on any one program. So if you want to see all seven, you’ll have to pay three admission prices. The order will vary. To find out who’s performing on any given night, call the box office or check the Web site at www.tiffanytheaters.com.

Bennett’s prevalent tone toward his characters is warm but amused. He’s fascinated with these peoples’ capacity to deceive themselves.

Only one of the six that opened last weekend strays from a wry fascination into darker territory. In “The Outside Dog,” Annette Bening plays the wife of a slaughterhouse employee. We soon learn that her husband is suspected of extending his slaughter to human beings, on dark country roads.

In plain, housewifey clothes and severe makeup, Bening looks less glamorous than any of the other women in “Talking Heads.” She takes care to let us see how much this woman has repressed over the years. This was one of the monologues, however, where I felt most keenly the wish that it could be opened up. Without the woman’s husband on stage, the piece seems clinical, stopping short of frightening. On Sunday, Bening stumbled over a couple of lines, but she recovered well.

Brenda Wehle works wonders with “The Hand of God,” as an antiques dealer who thinks she knows how to outfox her customers (think again). This was the one monologue where I least felt the desire to see the other characters. True, it also was the first monologue I saw, but the mordantly sly way in which the story is constructed helps deter such desires. More details might spoil this one.

Swoosie Kurtz leads us through the most surprising odyssey on the bill, “A Lady of Letters,” about a middle-aged biddy who can’t stop writing hectoring letters to strangers. The left turn that this story takes is the least realistic as well as the least predictable moment in all of these monologues, and the necessary costume change momentarily retards the pacing. But remember that Bennett co-created the comedy revue “Beyond the Fringe,” and take it in that spirit. Then you’ll enjoy Kurtz’s masterful transformation from a busybody into a body that’s busy.

Daniel Davis is the only male soloist. In “A Chip in the Sugar,” he plays a man whose chief occupation is taking care of his 72-year-old mother, interrupted only by occasional sessions of group therapy. He squirms when a new and aggressive suitor of his mother appears. The narrative twist is more conventional than those in many of the other monologues, but the rueful shadows on Davis’ long cheeks and his raised eyebrows enhance this simultaneously glum and funny situation.

In “Her Big Chance,” Valerie Mahaffey portrays an earnestly cheerful actress who never quite catches on that her big chance is in an extremely disreputable movie. With L.A. containing its own ranks of somewhat self-deluded actors, this piece may have more of an edge here than elsewhere. But the narrative isn’t woven together with as much discipline as the other monologues; Mahaffey meanders.

Kathleen Chalfant plays a vicar’s bored and unbelieving wife in “Bed Among the Lentils.” She unleashes her caustic views on us--and also shacks up with a young Asian grocer. That this was the last of the monologues I saw may have increased my feeling that the flesh-and-blood presence of the men characters would have helped. Chalfant is excellent, but Bennett slights the husband’s and even the grocer’s perspectives to the point of condescension.

The seventh monologue, to be added next weekend, will be “Miss Fozzard Finds Her Feet,” starring Tyne Daly. This will be the final production on the Tiffany’s North Stage. The theater is scheduled to be demolished to make way for a real estate development but may eventually be rebuilt as part of the new development.

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“Talking Heads,” Tiffany Theater, 8532 Sunset Blvd., West Hollywood. Daily at 8 p.m. except tonight and Sunday; Saturdays at 4 p.m.; Sunday at 2 p.m. Ends March 30. $40. (310) 289-2999.