Funny hits by ‘Creole Mafia’

“Inside the Creole Mafia,” now at the Evidence Room, is both a celebration of all things Creole and an indictment of all things Creole.

If that sounds a bit confusing, it’s because it is. Creators-performers Mark Broyard and Roger Guenveur Smith never quite nail down exactly what message they are trying to get across in this post-Katrina homage to the suffering city of New Orleans. However, these New Orleans natives are such charming, funny hosts that we relish time spent in their company.

Broyard is a compact, cerebral man who makes his points with an impressive economy of gesture. Smith is more commodious and expansive, both in person and personality. In combination, the two are a formidable comedic duo whose fast, overlapping patter never falters.

Clad in dapper white suits, they enter to “When the Saints Go Marching In.” Be warned: Audience members in the first rows will likely be pulled onstage to join in the dance.

From there, Broyard and Smith segue into a hilarious mini-lecture on Creole terminology, with emphasis on such words as “octoroon” and “mulatto.” Light-skinned black men, they make a point of checking their own complexions against a brown paper bag, mock-anxiously evaluating whether they pass this “color test.”

Although their ultimate point is a little blurry, the two repeatedly emphasize the role of racial politics within the moneyed, aristocratic Creole community and the particular role that those politics played in the recent disaster. Of course, considering the massive scale of the tragedy, the show ends on a poignant note. Mostly, though, it is delightfully raucous. Don’t make the mistake of thinking that the general hilarity is in any way irreverent or inappropriate. On the contrary, “Mafia” is a savory stew that makes us appreciate the richness and diversity of a city in danger of disappearing.

F. Kathleen Foley

*

“Inside the Creole Mafia,” Evidence Room, 2220 Beverly Blvd., Los Angeles. 8 p.m. Fridays-Sundays. Ends March 5. $15-$20. (213) 381-7118. www.evidenceroom.com. Running time: 1 hour, 20 minutes.

*

Golden light of promise dimmed

Rosario’s father is always telling him that “everybody’s born with their luck,” but Rosario, soon to be a father himself, rejects that notion, because it would mean that his child is destined to the discrimination, poverty and marginalization that already have humiliated generation after generation of his family.

His hope is fiercely challenged in a drama that playwright Edwin Sanchez calls “Barefoot Boy With Shoes On.” It’s a heightened -- at times enigmatic -- tale, yet as directed by Jon Lawrence Rivera for the new DIJO Productions, it always throbs with truth.

The golden light of promise shines mockingly on Rosario’s life, which is confined by slatted, vaguely prison-like metal walls (designs by Kathi O’Donohue and John H. Binkley, respectively).

Ray Oriel as Rosario compellingly captures the contrasts of a man who provides for his father and grandfather yet angrily sent his girlfriend flying down a flight of stairs. Sweet yet explosive, level-headed yet foolhardy, he appears to have been warped by the responsibilities and frustrations that have been heaped so heavily on his young life. Minerva Vier as the girlfriend may be bowed by the weight of a heavy belly, but she seems to double in stature whenever she stands up to the man who’s injured her soul along with her body.

Trying to better himself, Rosario falls in with a wealthy tutor whose intentions are anything but pure. Nick Salamone, playing Dr. Frankenstein to Oriel’s quizzical monster, supplies dry wit and much-needed humor.

A deluxe crib, a lethal cane and civilizing martinis figure symbolically in the action. Meaning gets murky at times, but Rivera, who staged Sanchez’s “Clean” for Celebration Theatre in 1998, makes it all seem artful yet to the point. Rosario, cooing the lullaby “Hush, Little Baby,” may promise his child the world, but the world has other ideas.

*

-- Daryl H. Miller

“Barefoot Boy With Shoes On,” DIJO Productions at the Underground Theatre, 1312 N. Wilton Place, Hollywood. 8 p.m. Thursdays through Saturdays, 3 p.m. Sundays. Ends March 11. $20. (323) 960-7744 or www.plays411.com. Running time: 1 hour, 20 minutes.

*

Not seduced by this ‘Don Juan’

Around 1625, Tirso de Molina’s “Don Juan, the Trickster of Seville” introduced audiences to theater’s ultimate bad boy, a skirt-chasing serial groom who raises hell -- only to be dragged there for his sins.

Dakin Matthews’ deft new verse translation for the Andak Stage Company blows the dust off Tirso’s 17th-century rhymes, adding a dash of contemporary slang to enliven hoary stage conceits. If the play retains any real sting, it lies in Tirso’s bleak view of the aristocracy. The playwright doesn’t pull any punches laying out European nobility for their decadence and greed. The Golden Age indeed.

Under Anne McNaughton’s economical direction, most of the cast navigates Tirso’s elaborate monologues and sudden tonal shifts with grace, buoyed by composer Carl Smith’s guitar accompaniment. But as Don Juan, Mark Doerr proves disappointingly colorless. His seductions feel cynical -- all snark and no sex -- and he generates more chemistry with the fatal Stone Guest than with any of his feminine prey. Without a strong sense of desire or compulsion driving our antihero’s boudoir mayhem, the production devolves into a string of well-executed, if predictable, plot turns.

Tirso’s comedia inspired masterworks from Mozart, Byron and Shaw. Yet Andak fails to make the case for the play’s value beyond sturdy source material, giving us a competent lesson in theatrical history rather than an epic panty raid of the damned.

*

-- Charlotte Stoudt

“Don Juan: The Trickster of Seville” New Place Studio Theatre, 4900 N. Vineland Ave., North Hollywood. 2 and 8 p.m. Saturdays, 2 and 7 p.m. Sundays. Ends Feb. 26. (818) 506-8462. Running time: 2 hours, 30 minutes

*

‘Trumpet’ blows strong with drama

“It’s the persuadin’ of the man,” says Mary Dillon (Kathie Barnes), a farmer’s wife in Leap, a County Cork village ravaged by the devastated potato crops in mid-1800s Ireland. She counsels her daughter Katie (Robyn Heller) about Katie’s swain, Danny Shea (Seth Compton), on the run for killing his property owner. Mary speaks from a life with Jimmy (Dan Conroy), the prideful patriarch of William Weber’s “No Second Trumpet” at the Celtic Arts Center.

Jimmy is a son of the sod, and his antipathy toward America, a dream that consumes his family, spurs this old-school saga of the Great Famine. Jimmy disdains the money his estranged brother has sent for Boston emigration, but Mary is adamant. The ensuing narrative faintly echoes O’Neill in its blend of whimsy, florid language, raw tragedy and bittersweet triumph.

When director James Horan’s promising players meet the intent of playwright Weber’s script, the resulting sparks may ignite Irish theater fans. The monologues have heft, and Katie and Danny’s romance leavens its suds with cheeky humor. Ancillary characters are especially vivid, with Austin Grehan swiping the show as Barker, Jimmy’s competitive crony.

Elsewhere, casting oddities and erratic rhythms somewhat dampen the dramatic tinder. Conroy is faultlessly combustible, but reads too young. Barnes and Heller, highly talented, were still evolving at the reviewed performance, and they, Conroy and Rick Crawford’s returning son hardly look related. Still, the narrative pull should sate Abbey Theatre devotees.

*

-- David C. Nichols

“No Second Trumpet,” Celtic Arts Center, 4843 Laurel Canyon Blvd., Valley Village. 8 p.m. Fridays and Saturdays, 2 p.m. Sundays. Ends March 12. $18. (818) 760-8322. Running time: 2 hours.

*

Diverting cartoon that’s ‘Stone Cold’

Whatever you think about his work, you must admit that prolific playwright Adam Rapp shows range. “Stone Cold Dead Serious,” presented by the Los Angeles Theatre Ensemble at the Powerhouse, is a far cry from “Nocturne,” Rapp’s solo show about a young man whose accidental decapitation of his little sister emotionally ravages himself and all those close to him.

“Nocturne” was a microcosmic elegy. “Stone Cold,” a send-up of a beleaguered blue-collar Chicago family whose son participates in a high-stakes, lethal live video, is a sprawling, apocalyptic cartoon that addresses the travails of the American working class. However, in both cases, the question arises: Do Rapp’s dramatic effusions constitute a distinctive theatrical style, or are they simply stream-of-consciousness musings lacking cohesive dramatic structure?

The hero of “Stone Cold” is 16-year-old Wynne Ledbetter (Brian Norris), who risks his life for a million-dollar prize he hopes will salvage his impecunious family, which includes Wynne’s injured workman father, Cliff (Robert Vertrees), his drug-addicted sister, Shaylee (Meredith Hines), and his waitress mother, Linda (Kimberly Patterson).

Regardless of the essential thinness of their material, director Larry Arrick and company commit fully to Rapp’s careening play in this diverting and highly watchable production, which features Francois-Pierre Couture’s striking set. But far-fetched characterizations too often trump plot -- and motivation. Recently sidelined by a back injury, Cliff seems of bafflingly subnormal intelligence. A sexually predatory knife salesman (an excellent Miles Nye) and a snake-wielding eccentric (Carole Russo), while well realized by the actors, are otherwise largely dispensable. Worse, Wynne’s star-crossed Internet love Sharice (an appealing Carrie Bradac) turns out to be a beautiful, sexually accommodating mute girl.

Clearly, Rapp intends the proceedings to be largely tongue-in-cheek, but the fact that Sharice is a reductive stereotype straight out of male fantasy blunts the effect of the calamity that follows.

*

-- F.K.F.

“Stone Cold Dead Serious,” Powerhouse Theatre, 3116 2nd St., Santa Monica. 8 p.m. Fridays and Saturdays, 7 p.m. Sunday Feb. 12, 19 and 26. Ends March 4. $20. (310) 396-3680, Ext. 3. www.latensemble.org. Running time: 2 hours.