‘Whistle’ looks for a ‘60s kind of cool

In the famous title song from the musical comedy “Anyone Can Whistle,” the singer desperately wants to “relax, let go, let fly” -- but can’t.

The latest revival of the show itself -- which has been seldom seen but often discussed -- conveys the impression that the same problem afflicted composer and lyricist Stephen Sondheim and librettist Arthur Laurents when they were writing it.

They didn’t know how to “let go” of any of the themes they wanted the show to address. Sondheim later summed up the show’s problem: “We were trying in a ... condescending way to be nonconformist and cover too many aspects of society.”

Michael Michetti’s staging at the Matrix Theatre simplifies the musical somewhat. It’s now in two acts instead of three and mildly trimmed. It’s also better sung than the 1964 cast album. Nevertheless, the results don’t come close to the title song’s idealized goal of effortlessness. The show still huffs and puffs, trying too hard to be arch and biting by 1964 standards.

It remains an engrossing curiosity piece, and a must for true-blue Sondheim fans who want to explore his formative years. But its strenuous cleverness and 39-year-old topicality become tiring over nearly three hours.

Michetti keeps the show in a highly stylized 1964. The story’s supposedly depressed town bursts with bright, sometimes clashing colors in Evan Bartoletti’s Pop art-ish sets and A. Jeffrey Schoenberg’s costumes.

Mayor Cora (Ruth Williamson) and her crooked cronies come up with a scheme to bring tourists to town: a “miracle” in which water spurts from a rock.

Head nurse Fay Apple (Misty Cotton) at the local Asylum for the Socially Pressured leads her patients, known as “cookies,” into town to partake of the water. In this production, they wear placards identifying them as “Swinger,” “Feminist,” “Homosexual” and other labels, and they’re costumed and directed in a way that flagrantly embraces stereotyped images.

Knowing the water won’t heal them, Cora’s gang tries to stop the “cookies,” but they blend into the crowd. The authorities need a way to identify them.

They enlist the magnetic stranger Hapgood (John Bisom), whom they assume to be a doctor. In fact, he’s a “cookie” himself. He falls in love with Fay -- who by now is on the lam and in disguise as a French flirt from Lourdes. But she can respond to Hapgood only if she keeps up her disguise. If she tries to be herself -- well, cue the title song.

Two other songs from the show -- “There Won’t Be Trumpets” and “Everybody Says Don’t” -- have acquired revered status in the Sondheim canon. And Cotton and Williamson sound terrific, accompanied by Darryl Archibald’s five-piece backstage band.

Moving between no-nonsense and ooh-la-la, Cotton confirms her status as a red-hot leading lady of the L.A. musical theater scene. Williamson’s amusingly poisonous sneers surrender to Hapgood’s charms, which are amply apparent in Bisom’s engaging smile. But Bisom’s voice sounds too restrained in “Everybody Says Don’t.”

Joe Hart, late of “The Woman in Black,” plays a funny, chubby Schub, the mayor’s chief co-conspirator, and Ira Denmark and Jay Willick help grease the wheels of injustice as additional factotums. Despite a small stage, a cast of 18 nimbly maneuvers through Larry Sousa’s pastiche choreography.

*

‘Anyone Can Whistle’

Where: Matrix Theatre, 7657 Melrose Ave., L.A.

When: Thursdays-Saturdays, 8 p.m.; Sundays, 2 p.m.

Ends: May 11

Price: $33 to $38

Contact: (323) 852-1445

Running time: 2 hours, 45 minutes