Outdoor Shakespeare Charms With a Lively Staging

When it comes to “A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” there’s nothing like an outdoor amphitheater. The Theatricum Botanicum, nestled snugly in Topanga Canyon, is an ideal setting for Shakespeare’s summertime romp, seen here in a brisk and aerobic staging by director Ellen Geer, who streamlines the proceedings to a family-friendly degree.

We know we’re in for a lively time when first we see Hippolyta (Lexi Pearl), a sinewy, spear-bearing Amazon queen who makes Xena look frilly in comparison. Bride-to-be of the noble Theseus (Chad Jason), Hippolyta is a shrew worth taming, and her acrobatic tussles with her groom are steamy stuff. Indeed, many in this appealing cast appear to have considerable dance training. A sense of general athleticism and breathless dispatch is maintained at all times. Occasionally, Shakespeare’s text is lost in busy-ness. And, rarely, an actor slips into thrashing excess.

But what are a few flaws amid the otherwise carefully controlled mayhem? The cast is solid, and the (uncredited) costumes and makeup design set the tone for whimsy.

A physically imposing performer with a John Wayne twang, Thad Geer plays Bottom as a perfectly unself-conscious fool. Elfin Melora Marshall is a first-rate Puck, while Susan Angelo (sharing the role with Abby Craden) makes for a gracious Titania.

Among the lovers, Willow Geer stands out as Helena, the woebegone Athenian maid who is unlucky in love--until Oberon (regal Steve Matt) socks Demetrius (Mike Peebler) and Lysander (Jeff Wiesen) with a love potion that has them chasing Helena like puppies playing fetch.

And speaking of puppies, an adorable wiener dog in the Mechanicals segment has the kids in the audience melting down from sheer cuteness. So are the adults, although we’d never admit it.

F. Kathleen Foley

“A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” Will Geer Theatricum Botanicum, 1419 N. Topanga Canyon Blvd., Topanga Canyon. Friday-Saturday, Sept. 13-14, 21 and 28, 8 p.m.; Oct. 6, 13 and 20, 3 p.m. Ends Oct. 20. $14-$22. (310) 455-3723. Running time: 2 hours, 15 minutes.

*

Hilarity and Sensitivity in ‘The Crumple Zone’

“My life is pure soap opera, and I’m not even a main character in it!” This pronouncement typifies “The Crumple Zone,” Buddy Thomas’ 1998 populist dramedy receiving its Los Angeles premiere at the Hudson Avenue Theatre.

Set in Staten Island at Christmas, the plot turns on the misanthropic Terry (Greg Wolfson), discovered at the outset bemoaning network holiday treacle.

Terry’s real complaint is his unrequited yen for dreamboat Buck (Joe Regelbrugge), exacerbated by Buck’s clandestine affair with Alex (Lane Janger), the significant other of Terry’s roommate Matt (Matt Huffman).

Complicating this is Roger Ramone (Steve Mateo), whom drunken Terry picks up on the ferry, with the unsuspecting Matt’s unexpected return from touring in “Salem’s Lot: The Musical” leading to yuletide chaos.

Thomas’ script is too small-scaled to qualify as groundbreaking, but its refusal to qualify these characters is exemplary. The writing turns gay self-reference into believable human discourse, transcending genre through superior craftsmanship.

Barring recurring sight-line discrepancies, Steven Benson’s detailed direction juggles hilarity and sensitivity to telling effect. So do the designs, as in the autographed Susan Lucci poster overlooking Donna Glennon’s holiday decor.

The ensemble is most winning. Wolfson devours the stage, his ferocious delivery archly dovetailing with Terry’s neuroses. Huffman’s internalized cuckold superbly embodies the opposite polar dynamic.

Stage debutante Janger’s occasional hesitancy suits his conflicted adulterer, and both Regelbrugge and Mateo are thoroughly accomplished. As is “The Crumple Zone,” which, though specialized, is so engrossing that the distinction seems irrelevant.

David C. Nichols

“The Crumple Zone,” Hudson Avenue Theatre, 6537 Santa Monica Blvd., Hollywood. Saturdays, 8 p.m.; Sundays, 3 p.m. Ends Oct. 6. $20. (323) 856-4200 . Mature audiences. Running time: 2 hours.

*

Connections Far From Home in ‘The Emissary’

We live in an age of willing dislocation, as people leave home to seek new lives elsewhere. Many of these wanderers end up in catch-all cities like Los Angeles, where every apartment building seems to be a mini-United Nations of ethnicities and religions.

The change of scene can be mind-expanding, but it can also leave people feeling isolated and lost.

Harry Karp touches on these ideas in his play “The Emissary,” about a young Lubavitcher Jew who flees a tightknit community in New York for a more open existence in Los Angeles. It’s an intriguing setup, rife with issues that could easily transcend the specific to the universal.

But the story is clumsily built of artificial characters, cheesy dialogue and cultural stereotypes--all of which come off still worse in a slack, hesitant staging by director Frank Megna at Working Stage Theater.

Fortunately, Josh Covitt brings earnestness and warmth to the character of David, who, in 1994, abandons New York after the deaths of his mother and Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson, the Lubavitchers’ spiritual leader. David seems to be rebelling against his upbringing, but upon arriving in Los Angeles, he sticks close to his roots by finding work as the kosher supervisor for a restaurant run by the aging Edith (Sue Ozeran).

The play briefly sparks to life as a Latina restaurant employee, the quietly luminous Sonya (Nancy Sanchez), teases smiles out of Covitt, and a halting attraction develops between them. But soon, a calculating blond beauty (Alisha D. Moore) is competing for David’s affections, uttering B-movie lines--”When I see something I want, I go for it”--in a condescending purr.

Still-worse stereotypes are perpetuated via a bug-eyed, gesticulating Lubavitcher and an indolent Latino cook (who actually drawls, “Not my job”), both played by Charles Anteby.

In a world yearning for connection, “The Emissary” ends up driving people further apart.

Daryl H. Miller

“The Emissary,” Working Stage Theater, 1516 N. Gardner St., L.A. Fridays-Saturdays, 8 p.m.; Sundays, 2 p.m. This Sunday only at 2 and 7 p.m. Ends Oct. 6. $15. (310) 230-1784. Running time: 2 hours, 35 minutes.