‘Macbeth’ gets Arabic overtones

In “Macbeth,” director-designer Tiger Reel ambitiously recasts William Shakespeare’s tragedy of treacherous ambition in Arabic flavored, occult-tinged terms that are swift, sometimes subtle and often riveting.

The porter (Brian Andrew Helm) ushers us in as his colleagues warm up and gossip around the circular platform and rigging ropes of Reel and Joseph Stachura’s set. With “Fair is foul and foul is fair,” a group incantation evolves, propelling this deconstructed Scottish tragedy into a self-contained spell.

Reel’s adaptation slashes text and adds pidgin-Arabic words and wide-ranging theatrical techniques, double-casting roles in a notable display of ensemble vigor. Macbeth (Eric Baldwin) might be loyalist, guerrilla or contractor. His Lady (Marti Hale) wears burka-like robes over a ‘30s-style evening gown. Banquo (Lesley Kirsten Smith) is gender-switched, with the pronouns to prove it. The witches (Debra Brenda, Jennifer Gabbert and Julie Terrell) resemble heavy-metal groupies. Keith Edie’s murdered Duncan becomes vengeful Macduff, Geoffrey Hillback’s Malcolm and Kelly Boczek’s Ross turn into assassins by donning hooded sweatshirts, and so on.

The rampant theatrics benefit from stark designs, particularly Reel and Lucas Brown’s lighting plot, with its shifts of shade and depth of field. There is also dark humor, as when Helm’s stand-up delivery of “Knock, knock, knock” assails the audience.

One drawback is the excessive edits, which turn key roles into cameos and suck blood from the proceedings. The casting quirks are also variable, with the odd-couple leads potent but lacking ambiguity in tandem. Yet even with a concept more decorative than disturbing, Reel’s attack on the naked frailties of modern-day nihilism has impressive sound and fury.

-- David C. Nichols

“Macbeth,” Knightsbridge Theatre Los Angeles, 1944 Riverside Drive, L.A. 8 p.m. Saturdays, 6 p.m. Sundays. Ends Feb. 26. $20. (323) 667-0955. Running time: 2 hours, 10 minutes

*

Over-the-top camp for adults

“Saucy Jack and the Space Vixens” at the Ark Theatre is comically sharp but musically flat. Despite that, there’s much to charm in this offbeat disco musical.

Created in 1995 for the Edinburgh Festival, “Jack” is very much a collaborative effort, with a book by Charlotte Mann, lyrics by Mann and Michael Fidler, music by Jonathan Croose and Robin Forest, and additional music by Adam Meggido and James Compton. Oh, did we mention it is based on original ideas by Fidler, Mann, Johanna Allitt and Simon Curtis?

In this case, too many cooks spice up the soup, and throw in the kitchen sink. A spiritual descendant of “Rocky Horror,” this retro-futuristic glitter musical is a cheerfully over-the-top camp fest for mature audiences. Set on the planet of Frottage III, the action takes place entirely in a seedy little nightclub, where the dregs -- make that drags -- of the galaxy congregate for outre intermingling of every persuasion.

Cross-dressing, gender-bending and just plain kinky, the club’s denizens include Booby (Joshua Grant), a drag queen waitress of linebacker proportions, Sammy (James Celentano), a sax player who yearns for stardom, and Mitch (Peter Ross Stephens), a bartender with a plastic fetish. Then there’s a sociologist (Chairman Barnes) with his own peculiar penchants, and Chesty (Lena Coleman), a lesbian space smuggler. Presiding over all is Saucy Jack (perfectly piratical Rob MacMullan), a switch-hitting secret serial slayer.

When the crime-fighting Space Vixens, (Julie Hogan, Tracy Rohrer and Danika Sudik) arrive at Jack’s to investigate a string of murders, Jack’s evil thrall just may be bump-and-grinding to a halt.

Daniel Gary Busby’s staging is fast-paced and fun, but there is no program credit for a musical director, and although Busby has many musical direction credits himself, one was clearly needed. Carlos Jones’ choreography is simple yet effectively naughty, while costumes by Robert Prosser and John Roberts are fabulously cheeky in the most literal sense. With a few notable exceptions, these actors are not gifted vocalists. But their comic timing is usually right on pitch. If you like disco and glitz, ignore the occasional clunker. You’ll have a rollicking good time.

-- F. Kathleen Foley

“Saucy Jack and the Space Vixens,” Ark Theatre, 1657 S. La Cienega Blvd., Los Angeles. 8 p.m. Fridays-Saturdays, 2 and 7 p.m. Sundays. Ends April 9. $20. (323) 969-1707. www.arktheatre.org. Running time: 2 hours.

*

‘Henry IV,’ bogged down in itself

Shakespeare’s thrilling history play “Henry IV, Part 1” has the barreling momentum and lethal stakes of a good action film, but it doesn’t play itself. It needs a strong, demonstrative vision to make it simmer and roar.

By design, the Classical Theatre Lab’s new “Henry IV, Part 1 x 4” lacks such a single vision; instead it has four directors and a cast of 35. It’s a daring exercise, but the result resembles a ponderous staged reading, albeit with higher production values.

We’re basically seeing directorial tryouts for a fully realized production, and some are tantalizing. Director Greg Von Dare opts for a feudal Japanese setting, which might be more impressive if his actors looked more at ease in their samurai poses and swaddling kimonos. Only Trieu Tran’s fiery Hotspur registers here.

Director Chad Restum handles his portion as unfussy, no-period epic theater. He has the advantage of a delightfully windy Falstaff (Carlos Carrasco), a hauntingly resolute Prince Hal (James Parks), and a slick but steely Hotspur (William Dixon), who’s particularly good opposite Stuart W. Howard’s pompous Glendower. And Kent Minault makes a stirring King Henry.

In the show’s tastiest overlay, director Lawrence Peters sets his scenes in contemporary Houston. Some actors twang too broadly, but keepers in this Texas layover include Jayne Taini’s blowsy Mistress Quickly, Karen Tarleton’s breezy Archbishop, Paul Taviani’s punkish, high-strung Hotspur (slyly evoking George W.), Mark Cross’ coolly corporate monarch, Deanna Cordano’s dry Vernon and the weary Worcester of Christopher Cappiello (a strong presence throughout).

Director Alexander Wells’ unfortunate final battle features women in “Star Trek” couture, though his Hal (Susan Hanfield) and his Hotspur (Caitlin Prennace) do muster a decent fight. Like the rest of this tireless company, they get a good workout here. But who wants to watch a workout?

-- Rob Kendt

“Henry IV, Part 1 x 4,” The Classical Theatre Lab at Fiesta Hall in Plummer Park, Martel Avenue between Fountain Avenue and Santa Monica Boulevard. 7 p.m. Fridays-Saturdays, 3 p.m. Sundays. Ends Feb. 6. (323) 960-5691. Suggested donation $10. Running time: 2 hours, 45 minutes.

*

‘Love Machine’ eventually revs up

It takes a while for “Acme Love Machine” to get humming. Indeed, roughly the first half of this new sketch show from Acme Company is filled with fine ideas by smart writers that nevertheless sputter and cough their way to the blackout.

The first act features a parade of well-limned caricatures: a stubborn Jewish oldster (Greg Benson), a supremely confident ditz (Kim Evey), a starchy accountant (Kimberly Lewis), a poker player (Wil Wheaton) with a glaring “tell,” a woman (Jodi Miller) who lives in her car.

None of their sketches, though, earns more than a smile or two.

The first act closer, a beguilingly sure-footed office “ballet,” turns things around; after intermission the show begins to click. The deadpan Chris MacKenzie delivers a pair of winners: an uproariously offensive underwear inspector whose secret seems to be having others inspect him, and a presumptuous boss who will stop at nothing to remember an employee’s name.

Matt Knudsen gives us a spectacularly inept and childish lawyer, as well as a man whose beastly sleep habits ruin his lovely one-night stand with the hapless Evey.

And Benson scores as an uncomprehending foreigner on a blind date with Miller’s desperate single.

Standing out less for his writing than for his expert double takes, slow burns and all-around reliable stage presence is affable everyguy Kevin Small. With a better mix of writing fuel and performing horsepower, director Travis Oates could knock this faltering “Machine” up a few notches.

-- Rob Kendt

“Acme Love Machine,” Acme Comedy Theatre, 135 N. La Brea Ave., Los Angeles. 8 p.m. Saturdays. $15. (323) 525-0202. Running time: 1 hour, 40 minutes.