Romeo, Romeo, like fer sure?

Far better it is to approach Shakespeare straightforwardly than to tack on a production conceit that just doesn’t pay off. No adaptor is credited for the briskly truncated “Romeo & Juliet,” now at the Art/Works Theatre in Hollywood. Those responsible deserve praise for an efficiently abbreviated treatment that moves at a smart pace until the tragic denouement.

But why the perpetrators opted to make the Capulets arch-conservatives and the Montagues blue-state liberals is a mystery. Apart from a few scant clues, such as the American flag pins worn by Lord Montague and Paris, the concept seems so bizarrely cursory that it undermines the production as a whole.

To his credit, director Joe Regalbuto brings a fitting romantic urgency to the proceedings, which are set in present-day “Verona, Calif.” As Juliet, Gina Regalbuto, the director’s daughter, has a giggling, impulsive quality that is especially endearing, while Matt Ferraro’s Romeo is touchingly besotted with his suburban muse. The production’s contemporary tone typically works well, but certain performers -- Regalbuto and Ferrarro included -- at times rush their lines in a hybrid Valley-speak that blurs the text’s meaning.

Shuan Baker lends his hip-hop Mercutio genuine dynamism, although one wishes he had explored his character’s underlying humor a bit more in an otherwise commanding turn. Christian Lebano’s deceptively suave Lord Capulet transforms from doting father to menacing master with frightening ease. As the well-meaning but tragically inept Friar Lawrence, Joshua Wolf Coleman is a particular standout among this competent cast. Despite its flaws, this fast-paced “Romeo & Juliet” could be an excellent introduction for anyone who has found Shakespeare a bit daunting.

-- F. Kathleen Foley

“Romeo & Juliet,” the Art/Works Theatre, 6569 Santa Monica Blvd., Hollywood. 8 p.m. Thursdays-Saturdays. Ends March 17. $20. (323) 960-7846. www.Plays411.com. Running time: 1 hour, 40 minutes.

An unlikely resonance today

Uneasy pertinence accompanies scabrous allegations in “Just Say No” at Theatre of NOTE. In its West Coast premiere, Larry Kramer’s farcical 1988 harangue against U.S. imperialism proves more effective than its critically panned history might suggest.

The alliterative kitsch and brazen dish spewed by Foppy Schwartz (a vivid Ezra Buzzington), fey confidant to absolute-powerful women, won’t cost Paul Rudnick any sleep. African American housekeeper Electra (the stalwart Inger Tudor) feels stereotypical, however much truth she speaks. The plot slams satire into screed, as a damaging video of orgies in high places tears Foppy between the embattled gay community and his role as keeper of New Columbia’s dirt.

Yet, in director Trevor Biship’s well-appointed, deliberately ham-fisted staging, “Just Say No” is perversely convulsive. Audience members sit before and alongside Sarah Palmrose’s set of slam-happy doors with presidential portrait overhead. This affords direct contact with Buzzington’s agitated authorial surrogate, who centers an assured cast of crazies.

Sarah Lilly’s patrician Mrs. Potentate mainly recalls the late Nancy Marchand as Mrs. Pynchon on “Lou Grant,” but Stephen Alan Carver’s mayor “of our largest Northeastern city” suggests many recent politicos. Trevor H. Olsen’s mayoral plaything, Ron Morehouse’s Junior Potentate, Jennifer Ann Evans’ tart and David Wilcox’s moneybags complete the ribald roster.

It’s sobering that the devastation of Africa from AIDS, governmental intrusion into privacy and media focus on gossip as news has largely gone exactly where Kramer saw it going.

In this, his script resembles Kurt Vonnegut’s “Happy Birthday, Wanda June,” another caustic cartoon with topical fire to its ire. Conservatives and liberals can argue its merits, but the outrage feels acute, and I just say yes.

-- David C. Nichols

“Just Say No,” Theatre of NOTE, 1517 N. Cahuenga Blvd., Hollywood. 8 p.m. Thursdays through Saturdays. Ends March 24. Adult audiences. $18. (323) 856-8611. Running time: 2 hours, 15 minutes.

Terrorists and an idiot president

Sure, David Hasselhoff is starring in the Vegas incarnation of “The Producers,” but there’s still hope for the beleaguered American musical: “Scrubs” recently featured a sung-through episode written in part by two of the Tony Award-winning creators of “Avenue Q,” and “Spring Awakening,” Franz Wedekind’s 1891 melodrama about teenage sex, has been updated with a pounding rock score and an unlikely Broadway run.

Then there’s the sly experiment known as “The Beastly Bombing, or A Terrible Tale of Terrorists Tamed by the Tangles of True Love,” written and directed by Julien Nitzberg, composed and musically directed by Roger Neill.

The show, now at the Steve Allen Theater in Hollywood, has attained quasi-cult status, not least because it borrows the decorous idioms of those wry Victorians Gilbert and Sullivan in service of some seriously impolite subject matter.

“Bombing’s” winsome heroes are two sets of terrorists -- white supremacists (Jacob Sidney and Aaron Matijasic) and Al Qaeda members (Andrew Ableson and Russell Steinberg, who alternates with Ben Daughtrey) -- who meet cute trying to blow up the Brooklyn Bridge and discover they have much in common.

Nitzberg has an appealing disregard for political correctness, and he gleefully lobs his lyrical Molotov cocktails in all directions: the Roman Catholic Church, repressed Muslims, fact-allergic presidents and humorless Jews. But as his excessively alliterative title suggests, “Bombing” doesn’t know when to stop. Though Nitzberg creates a strong comic premise -- the more the terrorists attack the system, the more thoroughly they are absorbed by it -- he squanders the show’s energy with overly broad characterization and, as a director, completely surrenders to camp. There is a faint whiff of self-congratulation in the air, inimical to effective satire. (Gilbert and Sullivan endure in part because no matter how ridiculous their plots, they had a disciplined sense of story.)

Still, “Bombing” offers its pleasures, above all Neill’s buoyant music. And any musical that features a comic number based on the anti-Semitic forgery “The Protocols of the Elders of Zion” can only inspire optimism that the genre’s sheer possibilities will keep it live and kicking.

-- Charlotte Stoudt

“The Beastly Bombing, or A Terrible Tale of Terrorists Tamed by the Tangles of True Love” The Steve Allen Theater, 4773 Hollywood Blvd., Hollywood. 8 p.m. Fridays and Saturdays. $20. (800) 595-4TIX or www.steveallentheater.com. Running time: 1 hour, 40 minutes.

Veterans who can’t forget the war

Some 25 years after it was first produced, “Strange Snow,” by Stephen Metcalfe, has undergone a retrofitting. With the permission of the author, “Strange Snow -- Redux,” the play’s current production at the Ruskin Group Theatre in Santa Monica, has been updated from a post-Vietnam drama to the present day. Davey (Mikey Myers) and Megs (Dane Zinter), the troubled vets in this version, have recently fought in Iraq -- a trial by fire that has left scars.

Of course, anyone familiar with the play -- or with its film adaptation, “Jacknife,” starring Robert De Niro and Ed Harris -- knows that Metcalfe’s story is as much a romance as it is a taut psychological drama. Davey, a high school all-star athlete who seemed destined for success, is now a boozy trucker living in his parents’ old house with his sister Martha (Sarah Maine), a homely schoolteacher who has long since given up on finding love. Enter Megs, Mikey’s former comrade-in-arms, who recognizes Martha’s inner beauty and pays court. Megs and Martha’s fledgling romance dangerously disrupts Davey’s psychic equilibrium and brings to light the men’s shared trauma -- an incident that has been carefully buried by Davey, until now.

Brad Bentz’s detailed set design is first rate, while director John Ruskin brings a resonant emotionalism to this staging, especially on the level of domestic drama. But Megs and Davey lack a certain poignancy that a few years’ more retrospective would have given them. Even more problematic is the fact that Maine, while an obviously competent performer, is simply too young and pretty to be convincing in the role. Still, Metcalfe’s powerful play remains depressingly timely, a sad commentary on history repeated and lessons unlearned.

-- F. Kathleen Foley

“Strange Snow -- Redux,” Ruskin Group Theatre, 3000 Airport Drive, Santa Monica. 8 p.m. Fridays and Saturdays; 2 p.m. Sundays. Ends March 4. $20. (310) 397-3244. www.ruskingrouptheatre.com. Running time: 2 hours.

Two people and a disconnect

As two middle-aged lonely hearts struggle to connect, they progress in lurches: They are awkward in each other’s presence, then suddenly intimate, closemouthed, then abruptly confessional.

Life can be like that. Where emotion is concerned, behavior is ruled more by impulse than logic. Perhaps that’s what playwright Sharon Yablon means to convey in her off-kilter tale “The Empty Bed,” but her intentions are hard to read in the staging she has self-directed for presentation by Padua Playwrights.

Set in present-day Los Angeles, the story unfolds in short scenes that cover a period of weeks.

Having let himself into a residence he seems to know well, a man (Jack Kehler) is surprised to encounter a stranger inside. The unknown woman (Shawna Casey) turns out to be a caregiver hired by the man’s dying mother, whose home this is, and who remains unseen in another room. Nervous and mouse-like, the man can’t seem to make eye contact. Prim and stiff, the woman comes across as cold and officious. Yet before long, he’s behaving like a Lothario, and she’s dressed enticingly.

Theatergoers are given little to latch on to. The minimal scenic elements don’t establish a coherent sense of place. A purposeful flatness in the acting makes the characters’ interactions seem abstract and disconnected. We gather that they are psychologically damaged, isolated and afraid of aging. We sense that they are playing mind games with themselves and each other. But with all the personality shifts and non sequiturs, it’s hard to know what to make of this tale.

-- Daryl H. Miller

“The Empty Bed,” Stephanie Feury Studio Theater, 5636 Melrose Ave., L.A. 8 p.m. Fridays and Saturdays. Ends March 24. $15. (213) 625-1766. Running time: 1 hour, 5 minutes.