Life, death, fate: all for a ‘Baby’

There’s a tendency among many writers to caricature the “lower classes,” those blue-collar types who are such easy targets for low humor and unvarnished contempt.

Such is not the case with Jane Anderson’s “The Baby Dance,” now playing at the Grove Theater Center in Burbank before resuming a limited run at the Gem Theater in Garden Grove. It’s easy to see why Anderson’s drama about a trendy Hollywood couple who adopt a child from two uneducated have-nots has been widely produced in the last decade or so. The cast is small and the settings are simple, but the emotional content is far-reaching -- a straightforward treatment of life and death and fickle fate that is beautifully balanced and believable.

Although separated by class, culture and economic circumstance, the respective couples in the play are united by a common humanity that transcends all other considerations.

Still, unless handled with absolute precision, Anderson’s characters could well dwindle into stereotypes. Ever mindful of this, director Kevin Cochran keeps his superlative cast anchored in naturalistic urgency.

Husky-voiced and compelling, Sondi Kroeger Foley plays the prolifically pregnant Wanda, forced by economic necessity to put her latest child, as yet unborn, up for adoption. Tom Reusing is also formidable as Wanda’s hulking husband, Al, who is, at heart, devastated at his failures as a partner and provider. Sandra Massie, who plays the affluent Rachel, occasionally over-indicates her reactions but is ultimately wrenchingly effective. Tony Candell is rock-solid as Rachel’s husband, Richard, a financial expert who cuts his losses as the deal goes sour. Also excellent is Luke Darnell as the glib attorney who brokers babies to the highest bidders.

-- F. Kathleen Foley

“The Baby Dance,” Grove Theater Center at the Burbank Little Theater, 1111 Olive Ave., Burbank. 8 p.m. Fridays and Saturdays through Sept. 18. $16.50 to $19. Also Sept. 29 to Oct. 9 at the GTC Gem Theater, 12852 Main St., Garden Grove. $15 to $25. (818) 238-9998, (714) 741-9555. Running time: 1 hour, 40 minutes.

**

Sham artists with a Hollywood air

Boulevard formula informs “The Great Sebastians” at the Lillian Theater in Hollywood. Howard Lindsay and Russel Crouse’s “melodramatic comedy” about vaudeville telepathists in Stalin’s Prague, a 1956 vehicle for Alfred Lunt and Lynn Fontanne, receives an agreeable revival.

It is 1948, after the Soviet takeover of Czechoslovakia, indicated by the political slogans that punctuate the theater posters accenting Stephanie Kerley-Schwartz’s venue-encompassing set. Those show cards herald the title stars (the proficient Susan Priver and Henry Olek), introduced during their farewell Prague performance before returning to America.

Dressing room chatter reveals them as sham shamans. U.S. citizen Essie focuses on packing, dinner and smuggling, while native Czech son Rudi retraces her missed cues in the act. This proves critical during a “command performance” for Gen. Zandek (Adam Gregor), who, despite his skepticism, wants the Sebastians to unearth a traitor in his ranks.

Director Anthony Caldarella’s old-movie approach flies the enterprise, keeping the stakes clear and the faces straight. Besides Kerley-Schwartz’s impressive work, the fine designs include Chris Game’s wry sound, Fayette Hauser’s period garb and Kathi O’Donohue’s usual swell lighting job.

The cast suggests a return to the Hollywood studio system. Gregory G. Giles’ disingenuous sergeant, Shelly Kurtz’s theater manager and Jennifer Toffel’s opportunist typify an endearing ensemble.

Priver and Olek have ripe apposite affinity, though they can milk the hambone grandeur even further. Despite the narrative pertinence of corrupt regimes and falsified statements, “The Great Sebastians” looks backward, to an era when a kiss between outre troupers could hold the key to a crowd-pleasing evening.

-- David C. Nichols

“The Great Sebastians,” Lillian Theater, 1076 N. Lillian Way, Hollywood. 8 p.m. Fridays and Saturdays; 7 p.m. Sundays. Ends Oct. 3. $20. (323) 969-4989. Running time: 2 hours.

**

Dark, dramatic days for Ireland

Brighde Mullins’ “Fire Eater,” at the Electric Lodge, uses the Irish potato famine as a backdrop for a mythic and emotionally charged drama that captures the lingering psychic horror of the Great Hunger, in which more than a million Irish perished.

Commencing in the mid- 1840s, Mullins’ well-researched play is no mere recapitulation. In fact, it is richly imaginative and exotic, with a plethora of operatic plot elements, some of which are given short shrift in the play’s fervid final stages.

The central character is the wealthy and fiercely idealistic Amanda (L. Zane), an eccentric Emersonian who dresses and lives as a man. Indeed, Amanda’s “saintly” asceticism has proved a convenient hedge, however unwitting, against the onerous fleshliness of marriage. When Amanda encounters Mavourneen (Tasha Ames), an Irish housemaid in her sister’s home, she is deeply attracted to the spunky girl, whose raw account of Ireland’s famine both horrifies and fascinates her.

Deciding that Ireland’s root problem lies in drink, Amanda frees Mavourneen from her indenture and hires her as a “guide” for a temperance tour of Ireland. En route, the women fall in love, but their journey into the heart of Ireland’s darkness proves tragically wrongheaded.

Well lighted by T. Stirlin Burk, the stark stage, designed by Zane and Anne Ricketts, features a strange focal point -- a tree swathed in shiny metallic coils, the symbolic thrust of which remains obscure.

Director Doug Tompos puts his fiercely committed cast through their paces with few hitches. Most of the actors handle their difficult dialects with panache, but a few are guilty of an annoyingly cinematic delivery, lapsing into inaudibility during key moments. Still, despite some faults in structure and staging, Mullins’ play remains a force to be reckoned with. Part history and part tall tale, it bristles with Irish intelligence and vehemence.

-- F.K.F.

“Fire Eater,” Electric Lodge, 1416 Electric Ave., Venice. 8 p.m. Thursdays through Saturdays; 7 p.m. Sundays. Ends Oct. 10. (310) 578-2228. Running time: 2 hours.

**

Absurdity splashes with ‘Bathwater’

A young couple gaze, wonder-struck, into a bassinet. For just a moment, they present a picture of happiness. Then they begin to bicker, the newborn wails -- and it becomes clear that this new family is in over its head.

What ensues in Christopher Durang’s “Baby With the Bathwater” isn’t profound, but it generates a certain amount of antic energy as calamity piles upon calamity and the parents find themselves saying things like, “Baby had never even seen a bus before, let alone been under one.”

The performers in a Pyramid Players production at the Raven Playhouse have fun with the often absurd situations in Durang’s 1983 comedy. To share the glee, though, theatergoers must ride out a few dull patches, while letting their imaginations rove well beyond the limitations of this bare-bones presentation.

Greg Mullavey, a “Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman” alum who often performs on local stages, has effectively if somewhat laxly directed this production for the newly formed Pyramid Players group. The tone is mostly right in scenes in which the parents, played by Ariana Johns and Nik Wilcox, try to maintain a facade of normalcy even as they revert to such bad habits as anesthetizing with alcohol or lying catatonic on the floor. Things don’t reel quite far enough out of control, however, after a randy nanny (Leslie Hunt) sends this already out-of-kilter situation into a realm somewhere between “Mary Poppins” and soft-core porn.

Brandy McKay, though, demonstrates sure footing in her knife’s-edge portrayals of several secondary characters, including a sweet-seeming new mother with dangerous tendencies and a mousy mom who hides behind oversize glasses. And Chris Carver, as the grown son, seems to have been born with the Durang gene. He’s a perfect mix of pathos and resilience as he stands before a therapist in a sundress, clinging to a smile and a sense of equilibrium as he recounts the horrors of his upbringing.

-- Daryl H. Miller

“Baby With the Bathwater,” Raven Playhouse, 5233 Lankershim Blvd., North Hollywood. 8 p.m. Fridays through Sundays. Ends Sept. 26. $15. (310) 351-9755. Running time: 2 hours.