Paranoia in unsure times

Playwright Matt Pelfrey plunges into the turbulent waters of suburban angst in “An Impending Rupture of the Belly,” his world premiere play at Pasadena Playhouse’s Carrie Hamilton Theatre.

Produced by the Furious Theatre Company, Pelfrey’s comedy-drama revolves around Clay (Eric Pargac), a soon-to-be father whose paranoiac dread is wearing thin on his pregnant wife, Terri (Aubrey Saverino). Clay’s idea of baby-proofing the house is putting a gun-slot in the front door so he can fire on the rampaging hordes after the collapse of Western civilization.

His fears are amplified by his boss and buddy Eugene (Doug Newell), an arch-conservative bigmouth who has little idea of how his extreme views are affecting his impressionable friend. When Clay’s apparently menacing neighbor Doug (Troy Metcalf) refuses to clean up after his pooch, Clay’s feelings of emasculation reach fever pitch. Clay turns to his crack-using musician brother Ray (Shawn Lee) for help -- at which point, in a classic example of the butterfly effect, his tiny pile of a feud turns into a storm of human waste.

Dan Jenkins’ appropriately totalitarian scenic design resembles cinder blocks, set off by metaphoric splashes of red. Christie Wright’s minatory lighting and Cricket S. Myers’ strident sound complete the striking picture of a Pasadena neighborhood as a suburban war zone.

Among the finely-tuned cast, Pargac stands out as a hapless everyman held hostage by his siege mentality. The male characters are effectively larger than life, and despite Saverino’s best efforts, Terri remains an unfortunately capricious cipher. Despite that failing and an occasional detour into the obvious, Pelfrey’s gripping, funny play is mounted with hilarious ferocity by director Damaso Rodriguez, who captures the crippling anxiety of uncertain times in a staging as droll as it is dire.

-- F. Kathleen Foley

“An Impending Rupture of the Belly,” Carrie Hamilton Theatre at the Pasadena Playhouse, 39 S. El Molina Ave., Pasadena. 8 p.m. Thursdays-Saturdays, 7:30 p.m. Sundays. Ends May 12. $15-$25. (800) 595-4849. www.furioustheatre.org or www.tix.com. Running time: 1 hour, 40 minutes.

The complexities of modern love

“I can never forget what he said to me,” goes the refrain of “A Language of Their Own.” Chay Yew’s delicate 1995 meditation on love and ethnic identity in the age of AIDS has its precious aspects, but this intriguing Rude Guerrilla Theatre Company staging locates the raw impulses beneath them.

It begins in Boston, where outgoing Ming (Nghia Luu), an assimilated Chinese American, lived with traditionally raised Oscar (Ruffy Landayan) until Oscar ended the relationship after his HIV diagnosis. “We were polite even when breaking up,” says Ming in the stream-ofconsciousness duologue that constitutes Act 1. While director Aurelio Locsin moves these mismatched lovers in almost ritual manner around designer Jessica Woodard’s yin-yang platform set, ambiguity hovers in the air. The intersecting motivations gain heft through choices of physical placement, and the direct-address interjections juggle heartache and humor.

In Act 2, we meet Ming and Oscar’s new partners. Ming hooks up with boyish American waiter Robert (David Clark Smith), while Oscar turns to flamboyant Filipino student Daniel (Dennis Tong). The four-sided fugue of longing that follows builds to a quietly elegiac ending.

Throughout, director Locsin and his invested players attack the emotional poetry with a restraint that counters some blips. Landayan has a narrow vocal range as Oscar, but his measured delivery reveals deep reserves of feeling, and Luu makes Ming’s self-absorption almost sympathetic. Tong, whose seriocomic finesse seems effortless, owns the house from his entrance. “A Language of Their Own” is highly specialized, but how it says what it has to say feels very special.

-- David C. Nichols

“A Language of Their Own,” Rude Guerrilla Theatre Company, 202 N. Broadway, Santa Ana. 8 p.m. Fridays and Saturdays, 2:30 p.m. Sundays. Ends April 28. Adult audiences. $20. (714) 547-4688. Running time: 2 hours, 15 minutes.

Death’s effect on the living

Playwright EM Lewis takes us on a journey through the undiscovered country in “Infinite Black Suitcase,” a world premiere produced by SpyAnts at the Lillian that samples various characters’ reaction to death in its many manifestations. In some cases the characters are near death and coping with the effect of their imminent demise on loved ones. In other instances the bereaved are seen in that frozen period of disbelief after an unexpected loss.

Initially, we meet two brothers (Linc Hand and Ken Arquelio) who have just suffered some terrible trauma -- an event we are left to piece together in subsequent scenes. From there, we segue to the hospital bedside of Dan (Eric Bunton), an ailing gay man whose healthy partner Stephen (Jerry Pappas) is considering following his lover into death. Then there’s Katie (Darcy Halsey), a dying mother who must broker the custody agreement between her current husband and her ex (Kim Estes and Ryan Churchill, respectively).

There are a few mildly comedic scenes, including the drunken confession of the guilt-ridden Frank (Hal Perry), a non-Catholic who has just lost his father, to a concerned yet exasperated priest (Bill J. Stevens). Under the fittingly impassioned direction of Danny Parker-Lopes, the cast rips into its material with gusto. But the play’s choppy scenes of generalized anguish are simply too episodic to emotionally disarm us. Lewis may take us through the bourne and back again, but we returning travelers have only seen glimpses through a jolting tour-bus window, never stopping to ponder the harsh and magnificent terrain that beckons us all.

-- F.K.F.

“Infinite Black Suitcase,” Lillian Theatre, 1076 Lillian Way, Hollywood. 8 p.m. Fridays-Saturdays, 7 p.m. Sundays. Ends May 6. $20. (323) 860-8786. www.TheSpyAnts.com. Running time: 1 hour, 30 minutes.

Sex, parenthood and legal eagles

“Pomp and Circumstance” and “Sperm Warfare,” two award-winning one-acts by writer-director David Bouda, explore sex and litigation with crowd-pleasing cleverness and variable cohesion.

“Sperm Warfare” transpires in a dingy San Francisco fertility clinic, where unemployed Blake (Ryan Kitley) and art dealer Deborah (Alexis Corey) ostensibly seek parenthood. Blake’s inability to perform intensifies as 40-year-old Deborah’s obsession with conception increases. “It’s not my fault you hit the snooze button on your biological clock too many times,” says reluctant house-husband Blake to desperately calculating Deborah, who then manipulates the uneasily objectified nurse (Tina Bruna) to arouse her spouse.

Rouda ratchets up the tempos, which his competent actors play to the hilt. Yet a self-aware quality intrudes on the zigzags from tart satire to emotional acuity, and the broad final fillip almost nullifies what precedes it.

The more rambling “Pomp and Circumstance” follows aging star attorney Max Ebersohn and Zach, his womanizing son. On probationary notice, Zach grapples with Dad’s ego, a murder case involving an actor playing Othello and, secretly, a loss of consortium lawsuit filed by a Jewish Orthodox couple after, um, Viagra damage.

Real-life litigator Bouda here provides acerbic quips, an insider’s eye and at least one too many plot strands. At the reviewed performance, original San Francisco cast member John Cornwell heroically assumed Zach on short notice opposite Arthur Roberts’ grandiose Max. Kelvin Clayton’s Bard-spouting thespian, Roberto Becalski’s snide D.A. and Sarah Lappin and Bill Applebaum as the aggrieved married pair are emblematic of a valiant ensemble, with many alternates.

Fans of David E. Kelley’s oeuvre will dig this slickly mounted double bill. This reviewer found the net effect rather more glib than consistently incisive.

-- D.C.N.

“Pomp and Circumstance” and “Sperm Warfare,” Matrix Theatre, 7657 Melrose Ave., West Hollywood. 8 p.m. today and Saturday, 7 p.m. Sunday. Ends Sunday. Re-opens April 21, Odyssey Theatre, 2055 S. Sepulveda Blvd., L.A. 8 p.m. Thursdays through Saturdays, 7 p.m. Sundays. Ends June 3.. $25. (800) 838-3006 or www.davidrouda.com. Running time: 2 hours, 30 minutes.

OK already, ‘Bush Is Bad’ ... and?

In a world where the president’s deputy chief of staff dubs himself MC Rove, and the Iranian government calls Warner Bros.’ feature-length video game “300” an insult to its cultural heritage, the bar for satire more absurd than the actual news is pretty high. Unfortunately, “Bush Is Bad,” Joshua Rosenblum’s cabaret musical bemoaning our 43rd president, is too short for that gesture.

Despite the eight-member ensemble’s spirited performance under the direction of Jay Willick and James J. Mellon, the material in this show feels neither trenchant nor original. “Bad” opens asking “How Can 59 Million People Be So Dumb?” and closes with “Wake Me When It’s 2009,” a journey from indignation to resignation -- hardly a compelling trip. Impersonations of Ann Coulter, Alberto Gonzales and Condi Rice don’t capture enough of each figure’s essence to pleasurably undermine their official personas. Even the engaging Roger Ainslie’s W. seems more Clintonian than Bushie.

There are occasional flashes of wit: A solemn Schumann-style number excoriating the Decider, and a funny of parody of “Jesus Christ Superstar” demanding Scooter Libby’s (political) crucifixion. But these few good moments aren’t enough to give the evening real punch. The Democrats may now run Congress, but they still need better numbers.

-- Charlotte Stoudt

“Bush Is Bad,” NoHo Arts Center, 11136 Magnolia Blvd., North Hollywood. 8 p.m. Fridays and Saturdays, 3 p.m. Sundays. Ends May 20. $35. Contact: (818) 508-7101 or www.thenohoartscenter.com. Running time: 1 hour, 20 minutes.