Macbeth as a scrappy, manipulative monarch

Among the many virtues in Circus Theatricals’ and Odyssey Theatre’s edgy, contemporary-styled co-production of “Macbeth,” by far the most striking is Jack Stehlin’s risky departure in the title role.

Exploring Shakespeare’s text in novel ways, Stehlin and director Casey Biggs reenvision Shakespeare’s usurping monarch as a scrappy hyena rather than the familiar heroic warrior/poet brought down by overreaching ambition and hubris. This Macbeth gains favor with the doomed King Duncan (Thomas Kopache) only after better candidates exit from the political scene. His deep ambivalence about murdering Duncan seems rooted more in fear of discovery than moral misgivings; the resolve comes from his steely, cold-blooded wife (Libby West), who practically pushes him through the door.

Though hardly a courageous figure, Stehlin’s Macbeth is a master manipulator who visibly delights in making false pretenses of friendship to Banquo (Bernard K. Addison), then cajoling assassins to kill him by playing to their basest appetites. In integrity and stature, he’s a polar opposite to his particularly virile enemy, Macduff (Fintan McKeown). There are trade-offs, however -- some of the poetic eloquence in Macbeth’s ruminations are diminished.

The tragedy unfolds in a staging that should look familiar to anyone who saw Stehlin and Biggs’ stylized “Richard III” in 2002. Once again, minimal, abstract sets, modern dress and skillful use of video help make this eerie drama urgent and timeless.

-- Philip Brandes

“Macbeth,” Odyssey Theatre, 2055 S. Sepulveda Blvd., West Los Angeles. Wednesdays-Saturdays, 8 p.m.; Sundays, 7 p.m. except March 21, April 4 and 18, 3 p.m. Ends April 18. $19.50-$25. Running time: 2 hours, 20 minutes.

*

Life among the subway set

Given the shaky relationship between Los Angeles and mass transit, it seems apt that “The Red Line Chronicles” deals with relationships in flux. Writer-director Michael Beubis’ six playlets about crisis-ridden local subway riders pit concrete surfaces against subterranean conflicts.

Buebis’ smooth staging has quiet style. His writing, though slight and sentimental, is honest, amusing and well played, as in the opening piece, with opposite sisters (Christie Lemmon and Marnie Shelton) in apposite denial over their father’s demise. Straight/gay parallels denote the chance meeting between high school acquaintances Amy Larion and Jeff McDermott -- subtle, funny and telling.

Pious child of religion Ryan Conklin bans free-spirit mom Patricia Conklin from her grandchildren, a potent clash. The study of a divorced dad (the selfless Anthony Montes) and his departing kid (Kevin Elias, wholly real) wrings hearts without apologies.

However, Beubis’ swift trajectory betrays structural repetition. The penultimate eruption between Ehab Elmezian and Joel Saravia as brothers at odds over advertising feels more facile than forceful. The closer about a late-life breakup owes as much to Bill Bolender’s and Tina Preston’s performances as to content.

Still, “Chronicles” is an agreeable showcase for all concerned. The architectural pillars of the Downtown Playhouse lend credence to Tim Keating’s stylized MTA-stop setting. Cecil Schmidt’s lighting and Brad Ellis’ sound meet each mood, and the Elliott Caine Trio’s neat interludes offer a boon for jazz lovers.

-- David C. Nichols

“The Red Line Chronicles,” Downtown Playhouse, 929 E. 2nd St., No. 105, L.A. Saturdays and Sundays, 8 p.m. Ends March 21. $10. (213) 626-6906 or www.downtownplayhouse.org. Running time: 1 hour, 20 minutes.

*

It’s closing time at Rosita’s place

Rosita’s Jalapeno Kitchen is more than a place to eat. It’s also a community gathering place and, more fundamentally, a cultural archive, cataloged in the flavors of Rosita’s Mexican home cooking.

No wonder, then, that Rosita is feeling a deep sense of loss as she and her neighbors pack up their homey small businesses to make way for another generic shopping mall. Tellingly, Rosita has been visited by nightmares about an oppressively sterile heaven where the food fits the color scheme: white bread, milk, mayonnaise and tofu.

Between laughs, Rodrigo Duarte-Clarke’s script for “Rosita’s Jalapeno Kitchen” -- a one-woman show in English, with occasional torrents of Spanish -- prompts theatergoers to think about how much is lost every time a neighborhood business falls to a corporate behemoth (with reverberations back to Chavez Ravine and beyond).

The message comes across all the more immediately because East Los Angeles Repertory Theatre Company is presenting this show after hours at Los Antojitos, a little treasure of a restaurant where the walls come alive with murals and flowers bloom everywhere.

Gabriela Mora is earnest and endearing as Rosita, who roams among the tables, trying to shoo the last customers from her restaurant. Unfortunately, she delivers much of her running commentary in a halting monotone. Jesus A. Reyes has directed with an eye to the overall experience, but his vision surpasses the result.

-- Daryl H. Miller

“Rosita’s Jalapeno Kitchen,” Los Antojitos restaurant, 2122 E. 1st St., Boyle Heights. Fridays and Saturdays, 8:30 p.m. Ends March 20. $10. (818) 554-8551. Running time: 1 hour.

*

‘Passing’ veers into melodrama

Harlem Renaissance writer Nella Larsen is justly credited with creating some of the first complex African American women in fiction.

But the Towne Street Theatre’s version of her 1929 novel “Passing” may be a bit more complicated than she intended: Playwright Sheri Bailey takes Larsen’s subtly shaded story of interracial intrigue and adds an explosive layer of thwarted sexual obsession worthy of Patricia Highsmith.

While in Larsen’s novel the enigmatic, light-skinned Clare Kendry is both feline and forlorn -- thrilled by her success in passing as a white man’s wife, but lonely for the Negro world she abandoned -- Bailey’s Clare (Nancy Cheryll Davis) is a Machiavellian schemer who’s not only passing for white but for straight, with dubious designs on her friend Irene (Lira Angel).

This tilts Larsen’s nuanced drama of manners into lesbian-pulp melodrama. The evening’s only flashes of humor come from outsiders who are onto Clare’s ruse, from a waggish society wit (Darrell Phillip) to a sassy neighborhood pal (played at different ages by Steve Henry and Mack Miles).

The rest of the actors struggle gamely through the prim, earnest paces of Bailey’s adaptation, which alternates brief expositional exchanges with party scenes full of extras in period clothes.

Indeed, there’s a dress-up feel to the whole endeavor; costumer Joan Francis and production designer Nathaniel Bellamy have a field day, and co-directors Nancy Renee and Sy Richardson direct the traffic efficiently.

Any telling subtexts this “Passing” may have unearthed from Larsen’s original are lost in this shuffle of wigs and wiles.

-- Rob Kendt

“Passing,” Towne Street Theatre at the Stella Adler Theatre, 6773 Hollywood Blvd., Hollywood. Fridays and Saturdays, 8 p.m.; Sundays, 3 p.m. Ends Mar. 28. $25. (213) 624-4796. Running time: 2 hours.

*

‘Devil’ can’t bring bluesman to life

Who’s got a right to sing the blues? You won’t find out from Bill Harris’ inept play “Robert Johnson: Trick the Devil,” ostensibly about the last hours of the blues legend’s short, storied life.

Harris delivers some lyrical monologues, and he’s got a salty tale or two up his sleeve, but he’s crafted nary a moment of credible interaction or dramatic tension among five characters, including Johnson (Bob McCollum Jr.), who cross paths in a Texas “jook joint” in 1938.

Director William Arrigon’s listless new production doesn’t help: Most of the actors deliver their dialogue like stump speeches -- even when they’re not addressing the audience -- and the show’s scant live music is only passably performed.

When Kimbrough (Chris Winfield), a Shakespeare-spouting white scholar who seeks out Johnson for his own ludicrously metaphorical reasons, asks the sharp-dressed singer to prove he’s the real thing, McCollum grabs a guitar, plunks out two basic blues chords -- and we’re supposed to buy that this guy is, as Kimbrough puts it, “the best there ever was”?

We might forgive this oversight if the nonmusical part of McCollum’s performance wasn’t also off-key and strangely timed. Winfield’s work is similarly muddled.

As a garrulous blind sage, Ted Jones has his moments, as do Tracy Taylor as the jook joint’s sexy, independent proprietress and Marcus Hester as her beaten-down lunk of a husband.

But you know a show’s in trouble when the pre-show and intermission soundtrack -- authentic blues recordings, including some of Johnson’s -- upstages the show itself.

-- R.K.

“Robert Johnson: Trick the Devil,” the Lonny Chapman Group Repertory Theatre, 10900 Burbank Blvd., North Hollywood. Saturdays, 2 p.m.; Sundays, 7 p.m., through Mar. 7. Then Fridays and Saturdays, 8 p.m.; Sundays, 3 p.m. Ends April 3. $16. (818) 771-8260. Running time: 2 hours, 5 minutes.