‘Woman’s’ strong solo character resonates

“The only defense against death is life,” says the title character in “A Woman of Independent Means,” now at the Fremont Centre Theatre in South Pasadena. This 20th-anniversary revival of Elizabeth Forsythe Hailey’s 1983 monodrama based on her bestselling 1978 novel abounds in such quotables.

On page and stage, “Woman” uses epistolary means to present Hailey’s grandmother, Elizabeth Alcott Steed Garner (Lissa Layng), Bess, to intimates. Born to privilege in 1890s Texas, Bess’ burgeoning awareness of gender inequity mirrors that of 20th century America.

The original local production starring Barbara Rush was a memorable hit (though not on Broadway), and a 1995 miniseries with Sally Field was well received. This is understandable; between the authenticity of the narrative and Bess’ strength of character, Hailey’s writing has easy accessibility and pertinence.

Evan A. Bartoletti’s set, Richard Spaulding’s sound and Carol Doehring’s lighting merge to create Hailey’s attic of the mind, and Peter A. Lovello’s costumes span the eras with elegant specificity.

So does Layng’s striking performance, finding the contradictions beneath Bess’ measured formality without straining for effect. She amusingly embraces the passive-aggressive aspects, charting the peaks and valleys that shape Bess’ eventual wisdom with telling subtlety.

This may well suffice for fans of the material. However, director Norman Cohen, who staged the original, indulges in overly languid pace. This betrays the work’s innate liability: The merits are those of storytelling more than dramaturgy. Still, if “Woman” remains a literary conceit masquerading as a play, it’s a worthy read, regardless.

-- David C. Nichols

“A Woman of Independent Means,” Fremont Centre Theatre, 1000 Fremont Ave., South Pasadena. Fridays-Saturdays, 8 p.m.; Sundays, 3 p.m. Ends May 11. $18. (626) 441-5977. Running time: 2 hours, 35 minutes.

*

Sacrifice and terror in Bosnia

A besieged Sarajevo newsroom becomes a microcosm of life under oppressive circumstances in “Liberation,” presented by Rude Guerrilla Theater Company in Santa Ana.

Director Jody J. Reeves and nine actors bravely commit themselves to a story by Portland, Ore., playwright Steve Patterson that graphically depicts the devastation of artillery and arms fire. Copious amounts of fake blood have soaked through clothing and spilled onto the floor by the time this gritty presentation is over.

Set in the early 1990s during the Bosnian conflict, “Liberation” puts a daily newspaper’s offices in harm’s way when one of the reporters (Kristian Capalik) brings in a Serb army deserter (Justin L. Waggle) willing to reveal the atrocities his unit was ordered to commit in a Muslim community. In return, the deserter wants a guarantee of safe passage out of the country for himself and his sister (Jami McCoy). The army knows where he is, though, and soon the news offices have been sealed off and threatened with attack if the deserter isn’t turned over.

As the clock ticks, the journalists -- a mix of Serbs, Croats and Muslims -- frantically try to think of a way to publish the revelation, if they can coax it out of the now frightened and recalcitrant deserter. The emotions that pour forth are compellingly conveyed by Waggle as the deserter, who turns hard and bitter as he is eaten alive with shame; Deborah Conroy and David Rusiecki, as husband-and-wife editors who must be compassionate yet ruthless as they make decisions that could mean life or death for their staff; and Andrew Nienaber, Melita Ann Sagar, Craig Johnson and Luz Violeta Govill as employees who may have to make the ultimate sacrifice for their profession.

Patterson pushes his plot and some of his characters too hard as he tries to tweak still more drama from an extreme situation. Still, he makes a strong statement about the power of information. His story is painful to witness, but it certainly resonates.

-- Daryl H. Miller

“Liberation,” Rude Guerrilla at Empire Theater, 200 N. Broadway, Santa Ana. Fridays-Saturdays, 8 p.m.; Sundays, 2:30 p.m. No performance this Sunday; added performance Thursday, 8 p.m. $15. (714) 547-4688. Running time: 2 hours, 20 minutes.

*

A thoughtful take on ‘Uncle Vanya’

Artfully layering the delicate and the ludicrous, Chekhov’s comical-tragical masterworks serve as both heartfelt elegies for a vanishing class system and mordant satires of aristocratic foibles. When interpreting Chekhov, one of the biggest challenges is keeping those layers distinct.

Most commonly, theatrical directors err on the side of the comical, reducing Chekhov to broadness and caricature. As if mindful of that failing, director Chris Fields takes the opposite tack in “Uncle Vanya” at the Lillian Theatre. Gingerly and respectfully, Fields crafts a thoughtful but sere production that shortchanges the comical effusions that are part and parcel of Chekhov, and most particularly of “Vanya.”

That respectfulness does not extend to Fields’ own adaptation of the play. Derived from several translations, Fields’ version is rife with distinctly un-Chekhovian profanity, scatological references at odds with the prevalent austerity.

As Vanya, Enrico Colantoni keeps his emotions stringently in check for much of the play, bursting forth into the required fury in the final scenes. Then, but only then, do we see Colantoni’s full natural range. A regular on the television series “Just Shoot Me,” Colantoni is a classically trained actor with a profusion of impressive stage credits. Yet, here, he underplays his character to a cinematic degree, biting off his lines with the tough-guy intensity of a method actor lost in the wrong genre.

On the other side of the coin, Michael James Reed delivers an expansive Astrov, making his country doctor such a charmer that Yelena (Emily Kosloski) understandably responds to his overtures. As Sonya, the plain drudge of the play, Tina Holmes is a bit too young and attractive to be thoroughly believable, but compensates for this miscasting with a heartfelt performance.

Fields’ staging includes some perplexing flubs. Why, for instance, does he have Vanya deliver his protestations of love to Yelena with his mother (Patricia Place) sitting only a few feet away? And why have Colantoni drop to the floor and lounge about, as if it were some sumptuous divan? Lounging on a hardwood stage would try any actor’s skills. Didn’t the budget extend to a few throw pillows?

-- F. Kathleen Foley

“Uncle Vanya,” The Lillian Theatre, 1076 Lillian Way, Hollywood. Thursdays-Saturdays, 8 p.m.; Sundays, 3 and 7 p.m. Ends April 27. $20. (877) 642-0227. Running time: 2 hours, 20 minutes.

*

Donna McKechnie graces the stage

It was the most shattering prognosis a dancer could hear. In the midst of a career that included a 1976 best actress Tony Award for originating the role of Cassie in “A Chorus Line,” Donna McKechnie was diagnosed with arthritis and told: “Well forget about dancing; you can’t even walk.”

Her triumph over that condition heightens the impact of “Donna McKechnie: Inside the Music,” a melange of song, dance and autobiography that she is performing at the Colony Theatre in Burbank.

From the wispy choreography that floats her onto the stage at the show’s beginning to an abbreviated version of her big dance solo in “A Chorus Line,” McKechnie is the very picture of grace, class and determination. And her smooth, dusky voice is wonderfully expressive in songs that range from the Johnny Mandel/Alan and Marilyn Bergman breakup ballad “Where Do You Start?” to Stephen Sondheim’s bittersweet “In Buddy’s Eyes.”

Yet she seems reluctant to share too much of herself. She is parsimonious with backstage details about the shows, and her brief marriage to Michael Bennett -- an epic show-business story about missteps between a brilliant choreographer and his dancer-bride -- is pretty much off-limits, a few sketchy comments notwithstanding.

The first act deals with fairly universal themes of family and romance, but it’s the second half that musical-theater fans are there to see. That’s where McKechnie -- who is in her early 60s -- shares most of her Broadway recollections.

She was cast in featured trios in “Promises, Promises” (1968) and “Company” (1970), which she sings here solo, along with Bennett’s choreography for “Turkey Lurkey Time” -- its head pops prompting her to joke, “I still have whiplash from that show” -- and “You Could Drive a Person Crazy.”

Re-creating the moment she was handed her big song in “A Chorus Line,” she delivers not “The Music and the Mirror” but “Inside the Music,” an early attempt by Marvin Hamlisch and Edward Kleban. More surprises like this would be nice.

-- D.H.M.

“Donna McKechnie: Inside the Music,” Colony Theatre, 555 N. 3rd St., Burbank. Fridays, 8 p.m.; Saturdays, 3 and 8 p.m.; Sundays, 2 and 7 p.m. Ends May 11. $29 to $32. (818) 558-7000. Running time: 2 hours.

*

‘Cha Cha Feminist’ hits funny bone

Traditional performance art pleasures dance around “Confessions of a Cha Cha Feminist,” playing at Highways through Saturday. Maria Elena Fernandez’s autobiographical show about coming to terms with the personal contradictions of her heritage is a rib-tickling, refreshingly direct confessional.

Entering in full Communion attire, Fernandez gets going immediately. Though her Mexican immigrant parents exacted strict Catholic good-girl behavior (using her brother as watchdog), native Angeleno Fernandez grew up yearning to be a flamboyant ‘80s disco queen, the “cha cha” of the title.

This struggle forms the first half, with recurring parental interjections in Spanish (courtesy of sound designer Gerard Meraz). “Cierra las piernas!” (Close your legs!) is one motif; “Que va decir la gente?” (What will people say?) is another. Fernandez melds these admonitions to her reactions with the same wry insight that distinguishes her frequent essays on Latino culture.

The second half depicts Fernandez’s acceptance to Yale, and her growing awareness of feminism. This runs counter to her enduring dreams of cha-cha-hood, peaking at a wildly funny depiction of depilatory measures and fashionista tactics.

Co-director Armando Molina keeps things moving, and Cris Capp’s lighting is an asset. The chief attraction, though, is Fernandez herself, who is less an actress than a personality, but a most engaging one, nonetheless.

If it breaks no new ground, and could use a stronger ending, “Cha Cha Feminist” will likely resonate with women of any culture, while men will hopefully gain renewed understanding, not to mention respect, for bikini lines.

-- D.C.N.

“Confessions of a Cha Cha Feminist,” Highways Gallery and Performance Space, 1651 18th St., Santa Monica. Friday-Saturday, 8:30 p.m. Ends Saturday. $15. (310) 315-1459. Running time: 55 minutes.