‘About Iraq’ fierce in its antiwar blow

“What I Heard About Iraq,” a world premiere at the Fountain Theatre, is a grim outpouring that chronologically categorizes the disorganization, misinformation and bureaucratic snafus surrounding the U.S. military involvement in Iraq.

Adaptor Simon Levy, who also directs, based his work on an Elliot Weinberger article that first appeared in the London Review of Books. In addition to the Fountain production, Levy has written three versions of the play for schools, theaters and civic organizations worldwide.

Levy is clearly a man on a mission, and his passionately antiwar play is unapologetically biased. But then, the sheer aggregate of disaster in Iraq, recapitulated here, makes a compelling case against a mounting misadventure that President Bush labeled, with no conscious irony, a “catastrophic success.”

Levy’s razor-sharp staging features superb production elements, including Scott Siedman’s set, Kathi O’Donohue’s lighting, Daniel Seidner’s multimedia design and David B. Marling’s sound, which conveys the heart-in-the-throat immediacy of a war zone. The keenly calibrated ensemble consists of Marc Casabani Darcy Halsey, Tony Pasqualini, Bernadette Speakes and Ryun Yu.

The play’s structure is simple. Dismaying statistics about the Iraq war are interspersed with quotes from those intimately involved in the conflict, from the president to soldiers.

Iraqi citizens are prolifically quoted too, while horrifying images of Iraqi casualties flash on an upstage screen. Yet the voice of Islamic extremism is suspiciously silent here, and several chilling quotes from young American combatants, obviously uttered under the most extreme duress, seem cheap shots. Worse, a final moment of the play, which evokes a benign Saddam Hussein pottering peaceably around his jail cell, seems particularly disingenuous.

Although the play leans hard in one direction, its occasional lapse into propagandistic overstatement does not detract from its sheer power. An often stunning distillation of American hubris and denial, “What I Heard About Iraq” should be viewed with an open mind, regardless of political affiliation.

-- F. Kathleen Foley

“What I Heard About Iraq: A Cry for 5 Voices,” Fountain Theatre, 5060 Fountain Ave., Hollywood. 8 p.m. Thursdays through Saturdays, 2 p.m. Sundays. Ends Oct. 9. $25. (323) 663-1525. Running time: 1 hour, 15 minutes.

*

‘Some Voices’ worth listening to

The title of “Some Voices,” receiving its Orange County premiere from the Rude Guerrilla Theater Company, ostensibly refers to those heard by its schizophrenic hero. Joe Penhall’s 1994 debut play follows a young British mental patient through a culture that ignores its disenfranchised.

These bureaucratic casualties are the real objective of “Some Voices,” released as a film in 2000 starring Daniel Craig and Kelly Macdonald. Ray (the amazing Paul Pakler in the Rude Guerrilla production) leaves the hospital to live with older brother Paul (Alex Dorman), a restaurateur who fears that Ray will echo their father’s alcohol-fueled decline.

Wandering about instead of seeing his shrink, unmedicated Ray defends pregnant Irish welfare case Laura (Brenda Kenworthy) from Dave (Robert M. Tully), her abusive lover. Ray and Laura’s ensuing romance hardly calms Paul’s concerns; nor does homeless Ives (Kurt Jarrard), Ray’s former institution mate. Moreover, pathological Dave is rabid to get Laura back.

Rude Guerrilla homes in on Penhall’s gritty vernacular and quirky humor. Steven Parker’s sly direction nails the spiky naturalism, aided by his resourceful set pieces, Shannon Blas’ lighting and the perfectly accented ensemble. Pakler, who recalls Sal Mineo, is a major discovery. His mercurial turn spurs Dorman’s sensitive Paul, and Kenworthy’s feisty Laura, and the otherworldly Jarrard and maniacal Tully are representative.

The chief liability is textual overreach. As character study, “Some Voices” is affecting, but its fuzzy social comment falls short of big-picture statement. Nevertheless, Penhall’s kitchen-sink power is undeniable, and this invested reading is recommendable.

-- David C. Nichols

“Some Voices,” Empire Theater, 200 N. Broadway, Santa Ana. 8 p.m. Fridays and Saturdays, 2:30 p.m. Sundays. Ends Sept. 30. $18. (714) 547-4688. Running time: 2 hours, 30 minutes.

*

An argument to give up ‘Tobacco’

Tarnation! What in blue blazes is Justin Tanner up to? Tanner’s quasi-parodic staging of Jack Kirkland’s “Tobacco Road,” the Depression-era potboiler based on Erskine Caldwell’s novel, is a misadventure of head-scratchin’ proportions. About as consistent as a meth addict, it bounces from slapstick to forced pathos, with nary a rhyme nor a reason in between.

The best news is that the current production at the Third Stage in Burbank -- where Tanner’s uproarious comedy “Oklahomo!” is playing to packed houses -- runs slightly more than an hour. However, even at that brief running time, one wishes that this were a “Road” less traveled.

Tanner sets his adaptation in the present day, in an unspecified “red state.” However, despite a dog-eared Bush-Cheney poster and a few references to Wal-Mart, the updating is hit-and-miss. The dialogue smacks of a bygone time, as do the characters -- hillbilly stereotypes that strain our credulity.

The famous character of Jeeter Lester (David Wells) remains a paradigm of the shiftless Southern redneck at his most revolting, while his inbred offspring are so slack-jawed they’re drooling. Then there’s Ada (Lin Shaye), Jeeter’s long-suffering wife, so worn out from rearing 17 young’uns that she ain’t hardly got a lick of gumption left. However, when Ada’s favorite daughter, Pearl (Crystal Day), is menaced by Pearl’s abusive husband (Brendan Smith), Ada flares into maternal ferocity -- kinda.

The acting styles vary from scenery chewing to Method asceticism. But that’s all part and parcel of the wildly uneven tone. If Tanner had stuck to pure parody, he might have pulled this off. As it is, this mash of conflicting styles resembles “Road” kill.

-- F.K.F.

“Tobacco Road,” Third Stage, 2811 W. Magnolia Blvd., Burbank. 8 p.m. Saturdays, 7 p.m. Sundays. Ends Oct. 16. $18. (818) 842-4755. Running time: 1 hour.