‘Urinetown’s’ quirky appeal

It looks like an Expressionist painting and sounds like a Bertolt Brecht-Kurt Weill musical. It grapples with gritty social issues, thumbs its nose at sentiment and goes by a name that makes people crinkle their noses in distaste. It is, in short, improbably entertaining.

Welcome to “Urinetown,” the little musical that, against all odds, rose to Broadway (where it won Tony Awards for book, score and director) and a national tour. It’s now at the Wilshire Theatre in Beverly Hills, where its name has been on the marquee for weeks, puzzling passersby unaware of its quirky charms.

To start things on an upbeat note, the show -- dreamed up by previous unknowns Mark Hollmann and Greg Kotis -- immediately throws its audience into the slammer. Designer Scott Pask has filled the stage with expanses of bars, fences, metal walkways and cold brick walls. Searchlights crisscross the cells, and guards keep a sullen eye on the audience.

As the show begins, a helpful yet vaguely ominous cop explains what we’re in for. Of Urinetown, he explains: “It’s kind of a mythical place, you understand. A bad place. A place you won’t see until Act 2. And then ... ? Well, let’s just say it’s filled with symbolism and things like that.”

A dirty, tattered young moppet then walks up and begins to quiz Officer Lockstock about exposition and the subject matter’s questionable taste. This distancing device, reminiscent of those used by Brecht, will become a running gag (one of many) in the show, calling attention to theater’s artificial conventions and yanking the audience out of its reverie, so that it will pay attention to all the “symbolism and things like that.”

Portraying Lockstock as a beat cop crossed with a Vegas lounge singer, Jeff McCarthy (remembered in L.A. for playing Inspector Javert in the local presentation of “Les Miserables”) is one of the show’s wackiest delights, especially in these dialogues with little-girl-voiced, diminutive adult actress Meghan Strange as Little Sally.

The story’s setup, in brief: Water is in such short supply that the public is forced to forgo at-home toilets and, instead, pay to use public facilities. These are run by a heartless, profit-making corporation that goes by the name Urine Good Company (say it aloud, then groan; it’s just a sample of the show’s punny, potty humor).

Much of the action takes place at Public Amenity No. 9, the poorest, filthiest urinal in town. The ragged locals, dressed in what look like Depression-era clothes (designed by Gregory A. Gale and Jonathan Bixby), are a cross-section of unhappy humanity, waiting in an endless line.

A tough cookie named Penelope Pennywise (dusky-voiced Beth McVey, looking beautiful but ravaged) runs Public Amenity No. 9. In her employ is Bobby Strong (Charlie Pollock, playing up his pouty, pretty-boy looks), who -- after his father runs afoul of the urinary laws -- starts a rebellion (cue the waving flags and marching throngs of “Les Miserables”). At his side in this daring venture -- albeit bound and gagged -- is Hope Cladwell (winsome Christiane Noll), the lovely, good-hearted daughter of Urine Good Company owner Caldwell B. Cladwell (Ron Holgate, who has fun exaggerating his sleek but oily persona).

“Urinetown” laments economic inequities -- “Rich folks get the good life, poor folks get the woe,” goes one lyric -- and warns of the ecological disaster that might ensue from our unsustainable way of life. Its focus on the preciousness of water is particularly apropos here in California.

But mostly, this show just wants to have a goofy good time. It turns its love songs and heroic anthems on their heads (most notably in the gospel-inflected rouser “Run, Freedom, Run!”); it gleefully indulges in every gag it can think up (facilitated by director John Rando, whose demented brain must have been working overtime); and it engages the audience in a sort of quiz game as it blatantly steals material from throughout the musical theater canon (watch for clues in John Carrafa’s clever choreography). A jaunty, five-player band accompanies from its onstage cell in the prison.

In all of this, “Urinetown” takes gallows humor to new heights -- or perhaps that should be depths -- and keeps the audience chortling.

The only real drawback at Tuesday’s opening was hollow, echoey miking, which made words difficult to decipher. Let’s hope that gets fixed as the run continues, because every word is necessary to ensure that when you’re in “Urinetown,” urine for a good time.

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‘Urinetown’

Where: Wilshire Theatre, 8440 Wilshire Blvd., Beverly Hills

When: Today and Friday, 8 p.m.; Saturday, 2 and 8 p.m.; Sunday, 1 and 6:30 p.m.; Tuesday to May 21, 8 p.m.; May 22, 2 and 8 p.m.; May 23, 1 p.m.

Ends: May 23

Price: $42-$67

Info: (213) 365-3500 or www.ticketmaster.com

Running time: 2 hours, 25 minutes