So very ‘True’ to life

Among the Hollywood theater offerings of late 2004 was a tale of authorial rivalry called “That May Well Be True,” which hinged on the question: When does a story stop being just a story and make the leap to art? Similarly, a new staging of the play, by the Ruskin Group in Santa Monica, hinges not so much on Jay Reiss’ deft but unassuming little story as on the art made of it by director Paul Linke and three utterly in-the-moment actors.

After a gap of more than a dozen years, Peter (Markus Flanagan), a novelist whose newest book is generating award buzz, pays a visit to boyhood pal Russell (Robert Gantzos). It’s not a social call. Russell, whose self-defeating behavior has undermined his own dreams of being a writer, has initiated legal proceedings, claiming that the novel’s events were cribbed. Reunited in Russell’s living room, the onetime friends slip back into their youthful routine, sometimes slumped on the couch in good-natured reverie, sometimes squaring off as though ready to tear each other limb from limb. Russell’s levelheaded housemate, Joy (Kristina Lear), tries to remain neutral but inevitably figures into a reemerging one-upmanship.

Beneath the surface of Reiss’ free-and-easy dialogue runs a deeper current of emotion, so subtly and realistically conveyed that we theatergoers feel like voyeurs stashed among the shelves of books and recordings. Watching closely, we see a sense of loss wash the cocky smirk off Russell’s face, and in that moment, we instinctively realize that what he wants even more than a cut of the novel is Peter’s acknowledgment that they once shared something genuine and rare.

Interest in the Ruskin presentation may be driven by the fact that, soon after the 2004 staging, Reiss earned wider renown as a contributor to and original cast member of the New York musical “The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee.” But the production is its own reward.

-- Daryl H. Miller

“That May Well Be True,” Ruskin Group Theatre, 3000 Airport Ave., Santa Monica. 8 p.m. Fridays and Saturdays, 2 p.m. Sundays. Ends April 1. $20. (310) 397-3244. Running time: 1 hour, 32 minutes.

*

Unfussy ‘Woman’ handles its truth

Retrospect is crucial in viewing Oscar Wilde’s “A Woman of No Importance.” First produced in 1893, Wilde’s play about a “shamed” woman whose past catches up with her may contain a few racy epigrams (“Nothing succeeds like excess”) but is otherwise pretty tame stuff by modern standards. But Wilde’s impassioned indictment of rigid Victorian sexual mores may well have been a covert plea on his own behalf, years before disgrace had left him beyond the pale of British society.

In his thoughtful, unfussy staging at Plummer Park’s Fiesta Hall, John Alan Simon captures the poignancy of an individual involved in a bruising collision with the brick wall of Victorian propriety.

The pariah in question here is Mrs. Arbuthnot (Elizabeth Karr), an apparent pillar of rectitude who lives in rural seclusion with her son Gerald (Colin Evans). What Mrs. Arbuthnot’s few friends don’t realize is that Gerald is the natural son of the powerful Lord Illingworth (Alexander Wells), who seduced and abandoned Mrs. Arbuthnot some years previously.

Unaware of their blood bond, Lord Illingworth has offered Gerald a job as his personal secretary. When the truth comes out, Illingworth is anxious to acknowledge his heir, but Mrs. Arbuthnot is just as determined to shield her offspring from his father’s dissolute influence.

Initially glib and chatty, the play segues from drawing-room comedy to melodrama, an odd hybrid Simon has some difficult addressing, at least at first. On opening weekend, the actors seemed daunted by the facile patter of the opening scenes. But as the play builds in emotional momentum, so too does the production’s authority and impact, particularly in the charged scenes between Mrs. Arbuthnot and Illingworth. Karr’s anguished austerity is perfectly offset by Wells’ pithy superficiality, while Elyse Ashton is affectingly heartfelt as the American millionairess whose love for Gerald transcends the threat of scandal.

-- F. Kathleen Foley

“A Woman of No Importance,” Fiesta Hall in Plummer Park, 1200 N. Vista St., Hollywood. 7 p.m. Fridays and Saturdays, 3 p.m. Sundays. Ends March 5. $15. (323) 960-5691. Running time: 2 hours.

*

‘Common Bonds’ sans connection

Jan Alejandro’s “Common Bonds,” now in its world premiere at the Secret Rose Theatre, seems to consist of four distinct two-person one-acts about brothers and sisters in various states of crisis. The trick is that Alejandro has spliced the playlets together, somewhat arbitrarily, into a full-length work.

The presentation jumps from story to story and scene to scene, necessitating too many laborious set shifts. Though the characters and situations are consistently diverting, director Kim Glann never masters the logistical bustle of her material.

The opening scenario introduces us to Vickie and Wayne, siblings from a broken family whose estranged father is trying to reenter their lives. Unemployed Wayne (Leonard Wu) is a bit of a Peter Pan who urges Vickie to accept their father’s overtures. Far more embittered, Vickie (Trish Ng) refuses to forgive and forget -- until disaster reorders her priorities.

The next scene concerns Samantha (Dana Schwartz), a recent divorcee whose kids have opted to live with their father. While planning their parents’ 50th anniversary party, Samantha’s brother Danny (Brian P. Newkirk) learns that his stoical sibling has recently received a dire medical diagnosis.

A more humorous mood prevails in the next story. Tim (Ben Blair), who has always functioned as protector and translator for his deaf sister Allison (impish Jody Stevenson), is now headed for college -- and concerned about how Allison will cope without him.

The final plot line revolves around the gullible Gwen (Elizabeth Ann Harris), whose exasperated brother Bruce (Nic Garcia) is trying to tear off her blinders about her husband and marriage. As the story unfolds, Gwen uncovers the shocking secret behind her husband’s suspicious secretiveness, while the directionless Bruce is inspired to reach out for romance.

Among the able performers, Newkirk and Stevenson are standouts. But Alejandro’s pat and episodic play never melds into a cohesive whole. Indeed, “Bonds” feels suspiciously as if the playwright put his various scenes on index cards, then simply shuffled them.

-- F.K.F.

“Common Bonds,” Secret Rose Theatre, 11246 Magnolia Blvd., North Hollywood. 8 p.m. Fridays and Saturdays, 2 p.m. Sundays. $20. (886) 811-4111. www.theatermania.com. Running time: 2 hours.

*

Feel the ‘Fear’ and see it anyway

The topic on tap in “Do You Fear What I Fear?” at the Elephant Asylum Theatre is clear from its title. But don’t be fooled by the ad-copy glibness, or the spare showcase look of writer-performer David Jahn’s solo probe of phobias -- namely his. This personal memoir carries real point beneath its hilarious outlook and skittish charm.

Groundlings veteran Jahn, who suggests Cary Grant crossed with a Bill Baird marionette, uses every color in his paintbox to recount a lifelong tussle with the chaos of irrational fear. After a tickling faux-overture by droll pianist Jeffrey Osaka, the entering headliner gets right down to it. “This is how it looks when I’m feeling fear,” Jahn says. He then channels all Three Stooges at once. As we stop laughing, Jahn archly adds, “Isn’t that attractive?”

Actually, it is. Under Ian Tucker and Robert Tucker’s unfussy direction, “Do You Fear What I Fear?” takes a familiar confessional approach, divides it into fours -- one of several motifs in Jahn’s adroit script -- and winningly subverts it. Jahn’s flash-changes, from mother and ex-lover to therapist and acting coach, land with a dancer’s control and crack timing. Such disciplined spontaneity gives the darker aspects extra gravity, and if Jahn’s resolution echoes many a “Dr. Phil” episode, that suits this particular journey.

The vaudeville breaks benefit from Cindy Warden’s musical direction, and Shelly Morris lights this whirligig with resourceful suavity. Jahn’s fears may mirror all of ours, but his ability is wholly distinctive.

-- David C. Nichols

“Do You Fear What I Fear?” Elephant Asylum Theatre, 6320 Santa Monica Blvd., Hollywood. 8 p.m. Fridays and Saturdays, 2 p.m. Sundays. Ends Feb. 25. $18. (323) 960-4412 or www.plays411.com/fear. Running time: 50 minutes.

*

Selling a slightly scuffed ‘Barnum’

“There is a sucker born ev’ry minute,” sings the title showman (James J. Mellon) of “Barnum” in its scaled-back revival at the NoHo Arts Center. Selling the public on shiny surfaces has defined this 1980 big-top musical since its Broadway production won Jim Dale a Tony Award.

“Barnum” turns on its airborne Cy Coleman-Michael Stewart score, delivered by a fervent corps under A.J. Robb’s musical direction. As Chairy, Barnum’s sensible wife, Yvette Lawrence is a find, beautifully coping with a press-night mishap during “The Colors of My Life,” and Emily Kosloski coolly turns Jenny Lind’s “Love Makes Such Fools of Us All” into a standout. Regina Le Vert’s 160-year-old Joice Heth and Adam Simmons’ Tom Thumb sell their stuff all the way to San Diego. The Act 2 “Black and White” ensemble is worth the show, Shon LeBlanc’s impressive costumes going for broke.

However, director-choreographer Josh Prince and star Mellon are more proficient than dazzling. Prince, expertly aided by lighting designer Luke Moyer, incorporates the entire venue beyond Craig Siebels’ ladder-strewn set. But the staging tricks are often foreseeable, the dances have ardor without quite thrilling. For a clown show, laughs are spotty, and the germ of seriousness within Mark Bramble’s narrative is over-stressed. Robert Mammana’s ringmaster, for example, switches characters with aplomb, but his Brechtian attitude feels forced. And Mellon, valiant, determined and, yes, death defying, lacks the scoundrel’s edge, a lyrical talent in a role that requires dynamism. Families may nonetheless eat up “Barnum” like cotton candy; musical haters will cry humbug.

-- D.C.N.

“Barnum,” NoHo Arts Center, 11136 Magnolia Blvd., North Hollywood. 8 p.m. Thursdays through Saturdays, 3 p.m. Sundays. Ends March 26. $30-$35. (818) 508-7101, Ext. 5. Running time: 2 hours, 10 minutes.