Pulled up to ‘Bus Stop’ for a welcome revival

In 1973, the fledgling Met Theatre launched its distinguished and remarkably enduring contribution to the L.A. stage scene with William Inge’s “Bus Stop,” a play appropriately steeped in hard-won affirmation of human possibilities. Those qualities remain very much in evidence in the company’s return -- 30 years later -- to its inaugural roots.

A three-act comedy-drama in the classic well-made tradition, Inge’s 1955 ensemble piece about blizzard-bound bus passengers forced to seek overnight shelter in a small-town diner is showing its age. However, its crackling dialogue and riveting characters still captivate in this first-rate revival under Silas Weir Mitchell’s direction.

Romantic leads Ryan Culver and Nicole Gabriella Scipione bring the perfect combination of chemistry, friction and humor to the central love story involving Bo, an immature rodeo stud on his first trip away from his Montana ranch, and Cherie, a jaded Kansas City nightclub singer he’s practically kidnapped after a one-night stand. Culver’s Bo is a thoroughly believable bucking bronco, driven by passions and needs he can’t even recognize, much less curb, yet likable despite his excesses.

Scipione brings earthy sexuality and touching vulnerability to Cherie’s desperate attempts to extricate herself from sticky emotional ties. Bo’s hard but necessary lesson -- that love is not a right but a fragile blessing that must be earned -- is delivered in the stern, capable hands of local preacher-turned-sheriff Will, played by Bobby Ray Shafer with rare integrity and compassion that make congruity between moral and legal standards still seem possible. A strong supporting cast -- Lisa Welti, Jenna Harju, Will Kayne, Darin Cooper and Robert Factor -- broadens Inge’s romantic vision with specificity and realism.

Some tolerance is needed for the play’s dated devices -- characters reciting their own back stories, conversations loud enough for the audience but supposedly unheard by others on the stage, and some character transformations that push the bounds of wishful thinking.

Overcoming these limitations, however, is a staging that beautifully honors Inge’s vision, in which understanding is more important than passing judgment.

-- Philip Brandes

“Bus Stop,” Met Theatre, 1089 Oxford Ave., Los Angeles. Fridays-Saturdays, 8 p.m.; Sundays, 3 p.m. Ends Sept. 27. $15. (323) 957-1152. Running time: 2 hours, 10 minutes.

*

‘Shame’ a fable of Gothamites

Industry professionals, especially artists’ representatives, may be intrigued by Human Zoo Theatre’s premiere of writer-director Kuros Charney’s dark satire “Shame & Desire,” now at the Stella Adler Theatre. This fable of drug addiction and sexual manipulation amid the Manhattan publishing grind contains cutthroat vitriol suitable for countless studio e-mail smear campaigns.

Set in 2000, “Shame” involves four Gothamites whose contrasting facades conceal equivalent senses of entitlement. The protagonist, Daniel “Neil” Barrington III (S. Greg Gardner), is an alcoholic blueblood whose cocaine dealing outstrips his writing ambitions. His friend Peter (Marc Chaiet) is a writer poised for commercial triumph, a plot point established during the snort-punctuated opening banter.

The psychosexual narrative turns on the two men’s codependent revenge-seduction pact, which targets rising publicists Lana (Kirsten Roeters) and Kasey (Julie Quinn). The interactions between these parallel pairs of so-called best friends, best left undisclosed, form a domino trail of multiple betrayals and spiritual reversals.

Charney’s talky text is technically adept, although its humor is at best sour, and it’s emotionally hobbled by the Byzantine mechanics of the conflicting agendas.

The acting largely redresses this. Gardner’s reedy stream of scorching contempt masking inner torment is well matched to Quinn’s double-edged affability.

Roeters’ early Lolita Davidovich quality offsets Lana’s vapidity, and Chaiet underplays with quiet cunning.

This fine quartet elevates the unappealing characters and narrow stakes as far beyond their indie screenplay constraints as possible, though following Charney’s rhythms sometimes exposes beats. Jason Cohen’s bipolar set lacks the objets d’art that moderns favor but is otherwise starkly representative. As, in fairness, is “Shame & Desire,” an acquired taste as dramaturgy that perhaps presages a scabrous feature film.

-- David C. Nichols

“Shame & Desire,” Stella Adler Theatre, 6773 Hollywood Blvd., 2nd floor, Hollywood. Thursdays-Saturdays, 8 p.m. Ends Sept. 20. Mature audiences. $15. (323) 860-6572. Running time: 2 hours, 10 minutes.

*

Western theme tames ‘Shrew’

Shakespeare in a 1930s fascist state. Shakespeare in the ‘hood. Shakespeare in outer space. The temptation to reset the Bard’s plays in more “accessible” locales has produced endless exotic mutations, good and bad -- but the acid test of such conceits is whether they illuminate the text or diminish it.

Conceptually, there’s some foundation for Arroyo Repertory Theatre’s Wild West-themed “Taming of the Shrew,” performed at the company’s new outdoor venue at Pasadena’s La Salle High School. The story’s rough-and-tumble approach to relationships and marriage shares some “frontier justice” qualities with the western genre, so re-envisioning Petruchio as a lonesome cowboy and Kate as his unbridled filly of a bride isn’t a wholly alien notion.

In pursuing it, director Jude Lucas employs some inventive adjustments -- from staging flourishes, such as Kelie McIver’s hellion Kate roping her sister Bianca (Jeana Blackman) like a steer to scansion-friendly prairie banter (“Dirty varmint -- how like a hog he lies”).

Considerable ingenuity also has gone into transforming an empty courtyard amphitheater into a viable playing space. Unfortunately, the attempt to shoehorn Shakespeare’s battle-of-the-sexes romp into such a one-note concept compromises the play’s more sophisticated charms. The critical first meeting between Petruchio (Doug Rynerson) and Kate -- a rapid-fire duel of razor-sharp wits -- doesn’t lend itself to drawling.

Rynerson’s Petruchio exudes volatile athleticism, but there’s little sense of the cunning behind his outrageous breaches of decorum, which are carefully calculated to break down Kate’s defenses at their weakest points.

Instead, he pitches woo with all the cunning of Jethro in “The Beverly Hillbillies.” The wildly uneven supporting cast, meanwhile, awkwardly straddles the fence between professional and community theater.

Where the neighboring Knightsbridge Theatre’s recent, similarly themed “As Ya Like It, Pardner” pared down its source to create an enjoyable hybrid with an integrity all its own, this “Shrew” insists on imposing its western conceit on the play in its entirety (including the usually omitted scenes framing the piece as a drunken dream). In the process, it sacrifices many of the nuances but none of the running time.

-- P.B.

“The Taming of the Shrew,” La Salle High School, 3880 E. Sierra Madre Blvd., Pasadena. Fridays-Saturdays, 7:30 p.m.; Sundays, 6:30 p.m. Ends Sept. 13. $18. (626) 696-4384. Running time: 2 hours, 40 minutes.

*

Cheeky show pushes boundaries

The back-seat focus of “The (Magnificent) Ass Show” at Theatre/Theater is instantly apparent. Writer-comedian Maurissa Afanador’s San Francisco import occupies a pastel-hued garage-show set dominated by a cartoon graphic of unmistakable posterior aspect.

After the yowling Mrs. Miller pre-show music fades into Angelo Badalamente-style droning, the first of many omniscient voice-overs in Robb Mills’ sound plot exposes one twisted 21st century specimen after another (including the audience) before the title-obsessive opening number.

Under Kelvin Han Yee’s direction, the cheeky sketch show that follows suggests Monty Python and the Cockettes colliding at Josie’s Juice Bar while drinking paint. Its components include Jerry Springer-slanted sociology, metrosexual panic and audience-participation ploys. Among the leitmotifs: syrupy Internet spam, self-perpetuating stereotypes and a talking 16-pound ham. This papier-mache scene-stealer (and everything else) is eclipsed by the rolling moon-faced ingenue of “Annie Comes Home From the Hospital,” a recurring, retina-searing sight that beggars belief.

Afanador, Tate Ammons, Diza Diaz, Courtney Fine, Andy Goldblatt, Neil Kaplan, Kim Kensington, Debbie McMahon, Ryan Reyes and Avi Rothman make up the unwell ensemble. Their asinine lunacy drags before the end, with the local talent showcase segment -- singer Julie Neumark at the reviewed performance -- further slowing the momentum, despite escalating scatological payoffs.

Fraternity pledges, Comedy Central addicts and other derriere-fixated factions will bust their britches; fainter hearts must weigh their tolerance for demented filth. This flabbergasted observer, whose visage during “Ass Show” no doubt recalled the panning reaction shot of the “Springtime for Hitler” audience in “The Producers,” now hallucinates heinous adaptations of “The Glass Bottom Boat,” “Rear Window” and “Fanny.”

-- D.C.N.

“The (Magnificent) Ass Show,” Theatre/Theater, 6425 Hollywood Blvd., 4th floor, Hollywood. Fridays-Saturdays, 8 p.m. Ends Sept. 27. Adults only. $9-$15. (310) 665-2963. Running time: 1 hour, 50 minutes.