‘Oz’ aside, there’s no play like ‘[home]’

Dora is depressed. Her husband is having an affair with a man, her daughter is an insolent horror, and reading about Victorian mover and shaker Gertrude Bell only emphasizes Dora’s own tarnished dreams of glory.

What’s a desperate 21st century hero-wannabe to do?

In “[home] or The Quest for the Lost Tablet of Ur,” staged by Zoo District at the Lillian Theatre, atheist Dora (a ferocious standout performance by Bernadette Sullivan) prays for divine intervention. The answer, in Steven Haworth’s dark, Mesopotamian carnival romp, catapults her through time, biblical prophecy, archeological mysteries, political machinations, war and permutations of love, home and humanity.

Dora’s surreal adventure, co-directed by Gleason Bauer and Jon Kellam, and hung on a sometimes uneasy “Wizard of Oz” framework, is kicked off by a tornado (Bill Levine did the show’s stunning soundscape) and the discovery of a mysterious stone.

With the power to cause orgasmic sensations, the stone links Dora with an otherworldly, armless Arab girl (Rainbow Underhill) and other stone holders: a failed professor of antiquities (Jay Edward Anthony), an addlepated Christian (Yuriana Kim) and a peculiar war profiteer (Peter Brietmayer).

The stones, part of an ancient tablet whose translation will shake the foundations of religious faiths and steer Dora’s destiny, lead her to this tale’s Wizard, “Fatima” (movement director Madeleine Dahm filling in for Carol Katz on the night reviewed), who has a regrettably anticlimactic “reveal” moment. Throw in masks, movement, sight gags, non-”Oz”-ian scenes between historic figures T.E. Lawrence (Bjorn Johnson), Gertrude Bell (Sullivan again) and King Faisal (David Ackert), and the sheer weight of Haworth’s fictional, historic and current connections make for a dizzying but fascinating ride.

-- Lynne Heffley

“[home] or The Quest for the Lost Tablet of Ur,” Lillian Theatre, 1076 N. Lillian Way, Hollywood. Fridays and Saturdays, 8 p.m.; Sundays, 7 p.m.; ends May 22. $20. Tickets, (323) 960-7753; info, (323) 769-5674. Running time: 2 hours, 30 minutes.

*

A postmodern spin on Calderon

Wry comment informs “Sueno” in its local premiere at the Morgan-Wixson Theatre. Jose Rivera’s 1998 revision of Pedro Calderon de la Barca’s “Life Is a Dream” invests classicism with postmodern cunning.

Calderon’s 17th century masterpiece, which Rivera follows while shifting the Polish locale to Spain, pits free will against predestination. After the queen dies giving him an heir, ruler Basilio (Hadrian Cortez), heeding the ominous augurs, imprisons the infant, overseen by retainer Clotaldo (Carlos Linares).

Twenty-five years later, succession favors Basilio’s nephew, Astolfo (Eddie Martinez), who with cousin Estrella (Valerie McCann) typifies inbred ambition. Meanwhile, dishonored damsel-in-male-disguise Rosaura (Gabriela Garcia Medina) and vassal Clarin (Manfred Hofer) encounter the now-deranged Prince Segismundo (Robert Kimmel).

Thereafter, “Sueno” inverts its own reality. Rivera’s witty colloquy carries nonstop analogies, from daytime dilemmas to Skull and Bones alumni. Despite collegiate ballast, director-designer William Wilday and his avid cast merge divergent energies into narrative intrigue.

Kimmel, fearlessly distorting his print-model countenance, is a find. Medina’s vivid warmth counters still-maturing vocal technique. The conspirators conquer variable articulation with bravado, particularly the piquant McCann, and Hofer channels George Carlin.

Wilday’s functional staging wants more alchemy, less academia (though Janet Krajeski’s costumes and Randy Ball’s fight moves have flair). The flies and light grid offer possibilities beyond those explored. Choreographer Lucy Record’s prologues, fielding Dana Szlotky and Morgan Wilday as orb-wielding sun and moon, are inexplicable, to put it mildly.

Even so, “Sueno” sustains creditable interest. The Santa Monica Theatre Guild earns kudos for tackling its daunting sophistry.

-- David C. Nichols

“Sueno,” Morgan-Wixson Theatre, 2627 Pico Blvd., Santa Monica. Fridays and Saturdays, 8 p.m.; Sundays, 2 p.m.; also, May 8, 2 p.m. Ends May 22. $10-$12. (310) 828-7519. Running time: 2 hours, 20 minutes.

*

Today’s high jinks outpace ‘Cadillac’

One understands why “The Solid Gold Cadillac,” Howard Teichmann and George S. Kaufman’s 1953 satire of corporate corruption, would still seem relevant. A Broadway success with Josephine Hull and a 1956 Judy Holliday film hit, “Cadillac” follows ex-actress Laura Partridge (Linde Gibb), who possesses 10 shares of General Products Inc.

At a stockholder’s meeting, the guileless “Ah, Wilderness!” veteran questions the salary increases that the General Products bigwigs (Kent Minault, Shelly Kurtz, Lou Briggs and Martin Clark) have granted themselves. To quell this inquisitive quail, the boardroom Borgias install her as stockholder liaison. This move backfires and then some, leading to a congressional investigation.

Director Howard Teichman (no relation to the playwright) begins the proceedings with promise. The board enters in full light, glad-handing the audience in presidential campaign fashion. Mrs. Partridge makes her case seated in our midst. Michael Gough’s tongue-in-cheek narration portends a sly period cartoon.

However, Theatre 40’s slogging revival depreciates the play’s dated dividends. America’s conflicted corporate interests have grave national and global implications, and Kaufman and Teichmann’s gentle barbs pale beside the Enron gang.

Palpable goodwill and resourceful designs (notably Elizabeth Huffman’s costumes) notwithstanding, the execution is barn-broad. Gibb projects invariable all-purpose twinkle, while Erik Robinson’s good-guy company founder is indistinguishable from his ex-cronies. As Mrs. Partridge’s repressed secretary, Abigail Rose Solomon could be playing the Shrine Auditorium. That “Cadillac” might retain topical viability is appreciable, but, sadly, this vehicle is a stolid lead Edsel.

-- D.N.C.

“The Solid Gold Cadillac,” Theatre 40, 241 Moreno Drive, Beverly Hills High School, Beverly Hills. Thursdays to Saturdays, 8 p.m.; Sundays, 2 p.m. Ends May 30. $18-$20. (310) 364-0535. Running time: 2 hours, 10 minutes.

*

Smokin’ grooves, but sketchy humor

Testosterone is the reigning chemical in “The Days When Cocaine Was King,” a wannabe guilty pleasure as crudely constructed as it is crude.

It’s purportedly the story of the Larrys, a novelty rock band whose fortysomething members provide live music at stageside while actors play their younger, ‘70s-vintage selves.

Sex gets more play here than either drugs or rock ‘n’ roll, in director John J. Fanelli’s rambling, half-cocked sketch comedy script. Indeed, this is less a backstager about a band’s rise and fall than a backseater -- a tittering male fantasy about strapping young frontman Ro Chambeaux (Josh Thorpe).

Ro’s dilemma: to win back hot Juanita (Giselli Tongi) after she catches him in a hot-tub threesome with his ex, Carla (Rennie Salomon), and a new friend.

Sound like fun? If only. The proceedings alternate uneasily between the Larrys’ semiscripted goofery and the actors’ let’s-put-on-a-show portrayals.

There’s some snappy choreography for a lithe young chorus by Tania L. Pearson, and the band unleashes some smokin’ grooves.

Thorpe is a good sport who looks sleek in Jyothi Doughman’s period duds. As his bassist, Brandon Loeser is an ingratiating frat-boy imp. And Tongi has a lovely solo late in the show, by which point it’s like finding a cherry in a spittoon.

The evening’s emcee, the “real” Ro Chambeaux, has more costume changes than Liberace and a Phil Hartman-like ironic shamelessness. But with shtick so witlessly puerile, the result is more embarrassing than shocking.

-- Rob Kendt

“The Days When Cocaine Was King,” Stage Music Productions at the American Renegade Theatre, 11138 Magnolia Ave., North Hollywood. Thursdays and Fridays, 8 p.m.; Saturdays, 8 and 10:30 p.m. Ends May 29. $20. (888) 709-2653. Running time: 2 hours, 5 minutes.