Sentimental existential journey

The first word heard in “Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead” at the Company Rep is “Heads.” It stands as telling metaphor for Tom Stoppard’s Tony-winning playwriting debut. This post-Beckett study of Hamlet’s hapless schoolmates has enough intellectual filigree to keep existentialists occupied until Godot arrives.

From its 1966 premiere onward, “Rosencrantz and Guildenstern” has been a critic’s darling and an audience’s challenge. Rosencrantz (Scott MacDonell) is the naive soul, Guildenstern (Mike Uribes) the caustic questioner. Neither knows which one is who, or what they are here for, or even where here is.

Enter the First Player (the charismatic Christian Lebano) and his troupe (Jakub Barberg, Mykel Lawson, Philip McKeown and Susannah Myrvold), en route to the doings in Denmark.

Thereafter, Hamlet (Matt Ryan), Polonius (Tony C. Burton) and other Elsinore intriguers instigate a structurally brilliant duel between free will, predestination, the Folio lines and Stoppard’s imagination.

A common pitfall with this classic is overplaying its lofty aims, which director Soren Oliver mainly avoids. The cloud-laden set, Luke Moyer’s lighting, Esther Blodgett’s costumes and Steve Shaw’s sound have quiet efficiency. The competent cast might trust itself more, though. MacDonell and Uribes are bright and gifted, but their rapid attack reveals technique more than invention. This inevitably affects their colleagues; all concerned should just relax and enjoy themselves.

A knottier problem is the work’s self-delighting familiarity to longtime devotees. Yet if decades of exposure have made Stoppard’s tricks less than surprising, his ornate wordplay retains its theatrical punch.

-- David C. Nichols

“Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead,” 5112 Lankershim Blvd., North Hollywood. 8 p.m. Thursdays through Saturdays; 2 p.m. Sundays. Ends Oct. 16. $20 and $22.50. (866) 811-4111. Running time: 2 hours, 20 minutes.

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Talk takes over ‘Griffin Hunter’

There’s so much you want to love about Kirk Wood Bromley’s “The Death of Griffin Hunter” at Theatre of NOTE. Conversely, there’s so much you want to throttle.

It’s easy to see why Bromley has frequently been compared, however speciously, to Shakespeare. Written in verse, a typical Bromley play melds epigram, anachronism and biting humor into a poetical effusion that seems, at first, deceptively virtuosic. No exception, “Hunter” is frequently lambent, with sparkling dialogue and caustic one-liners that are a genuine hoot. Dramaturgically, however, the play is a disaster, devolving into such a raddled mess of excess that it seems deliberately camp.

As the play opens, Griffin Hunter (Adam LeBow), a visionary politician, is about to have his landmark peace accord signed by all the nations of the world. LeBow and his actress wife, Sophie (Inger Tudor, burdened here by a bad French accent), go to San Francisco -- Griffin to oversee the concord, Sophie to open in a new play financed by the rich but ruthless Semion Rockwell (droll Kiff Scholl) and directed by Rockwell’s wife, Vivian Nash (wonderfully over-the-top Lynn Odell).

Obsessed with Sophie, Rockwell orders Griffin killed by his functionary Leveret (Dan Wingard). Rockwell is not the only unrequited lover in this mix. Leveret, who knows Griffin of old, nurses an unrequited homosexual crush on his longtime pal. Meanwhile, Griffin is torn between Sophie and his old love Mayumi (Lisa Clifton). And Vivian is waxing very Lady Macbeth-ish over her husband’s blatant philandering. Oh, did we mention that a nuclear detonation in China has put world peace in peril? These characters, however, seem far more concerned with their turbulent love lives than the fate of the world.

To their credit, director Adam Simon and his stalwart cast undertake the endeavor with wit, grace and unflagging energy. But about three hours into the proceedings, actors and audience alike start to drown in the deluge of verbiage. Comparisons to Shakespeare aside, Bromley could use a good script doctor -- say, a modern-day Christopher Marlowe -- to help sort the jumble.

-- F. Kathleen Foley

“The Death of Griffin Hunter,” Theater of NOTE, 1517 Cahuenga Blvd., Hollywood. 8 p.m. Thursdays through Saturdays. Ends Oct. 30. $15. (323) 856-8611. Running time: 3 hours, 30 minutes.