A revival that still adds up

“The Adding Machine,” Elmer Rice’s 1923 classic, sounds as dated as a steam locomotive. But anyone who has suffered the torment of trying to get an operator on the phone instead of a series of recorded messages will sympathize with Rice’s underlying outrage. Put simply, this expressionistic drama illustrates the way an overly mechanized society, ruled by greedy corporate barons, dehumanizes its citizens.

At several points during Circus Theatricals’ straightforward staging, it struck me that the plight of Mr. Zero (Thomas Kopache), the middle-aged bookkeeper who loses his job to an adding machine, is all too common today -- except the problem now is outsourcing rather than automation. Rice’s theatrical achievement is to bring us inside the pounding head of a stalwart employee who’s considered utterly disposable by his boss. The revenge Mr. Zero takes may not be justifiable, but we understand why he’s demoralized and feel pity when he pays the ultimate penalty for his crime.

The production, directed by Scott Alan Smith, begins with Katherine Griffith vividly delivering Mrs. Zero’s shrewish monologue in which she lambastes her husband for his shortcomings. The gender politics of the scene are old school, but it establishes that home for this drab, overworked, sexually dissatisfied man is hardly a refuge.

Just how soul-deadening is Mr. Zero’s office routine? Well, the highlight is the memory of when he once “accidentally” nudged the leg of the suicidal woman (Francesca Ferrara) who sits opposite him. These tormented drones will get a second crack at happiness in the afterworld. But social critique being the name of the game, heaven turns into just another bureaucratic hamster-wheel.

Kopache, who seems about a decade older than his character (a minor distraction), offers a solid, no-nonsense performance, which pretty much sums up the production. For “The Adding Machine” to spring to new life requires a director willing to take more risks. But this revival reveals the alarming timelessness of Rice’s play.

-- Charles McNulty

“The Adding Machine,” Circus Theatrical Studio Theatre at the Hayworth, 2511 Wilshire Blvd., Los Angeles. 8 p.m. Fridays and Saturdays. Ends June 2. $20. (323)-960-1054 or www.circustheatricals.com. Running time: 2 hours.

Bringing Sputnik era up to date

Though set in 1957, White Buffalo Theatre Company’s original drama, “The Red & White Store,” clearly has more contemporary implications in mind. Writer-director Kerrie Keane’s parable about a nameless rural heartland community in the grip of Cold War paranoia contemplates the ways freedom and tolerance are all too readily sacrificed in frantic pursuit of a sense of security that proves tragically illusory.

The orbiting Soviet Sputnik I satellite and its perceived threat of raining down nuclear destruction has driven the local general store proprietor, Hungarian immigrant Benjamin (Vincent Mann), to enlist his neighbors’ help in building a bomb shelter in his backyard. The underground shelter epitomizes the era’s fears and naivete, and in the opening scene free-spirited tomboy Rita (Jessica Wright) comments on its resemblance to a grave (not much digging for symbolism required here).

Double-casting four of the other five roles provides stage opportunity for more members of this young company to hone their skills, but performance quality will vary. Nevertheless, the play’s structural strengths and limitations are readily apparent. Tackling weighty themes, Keane sets up promising conflicts between cleanly delineated characters, but follow-through plotting is weak in implementation.

A star-crossed romance between Benjamin’s wife (Angelina Leaf, Cynthia Hall) and a disillusioned Korean War vet (Steve Rifkin, Steven Cesnek) evokes melancholy shades of Edith Wharton novels without honoring the importance of sustained tension -- here, the situation is resolved entirely too easily.

The primary antagonist to Benjamin’s rigid fear-mongering appears rather late in the story, in the form of a spunky journalist (Lisa Harman / Marguerite Moreau) who spouts Allen Ginsberg poetry and beatnik phrases like “I dig” and “it’s the most.” Any nostalgic charm in the period slang, however, is tempered by enduring reality -- the vocabulary may change, but our cultural divisions endure.

-- Philip Brandes

“The Red & White Store,” Deaf West Theatre, 5112 Lankershim Blvd., North Hollywood. 8 p.m. Thursdays through Saturdays, 3 p.m. Sundays. Ends May 19. $20. (818) 377-3227. Running time: 2 hours.

This drama is guaranteed to chill

“Frozen,” with its unblinking focus on a horrific crime, can be a real squirm-inducer. In Fullerton, a Hunger Artists presentation of this English drama (introduced to the States in 2004) begins uncertainly but snaps chillingly into focus as soon as Scott Manuel Johnson enters the action.

Johnson’s Ralph is jumpy and agitated at first but grows eerily calm when he spots a girl on the street alone, squats to the unseen youngster’s level and says, in a gently teasing manner, “Hello. I’m saying ‘hello’ to you.”

Playwright Bryony Lavery casts us as witnesses to an event we want desperately to halt. The conventions of the theater leave us powerless to intercede, however, so all we can do is watch.

The action takes place mostly in England, though this is suggested rather than shown. No set, no props -- just three folding chairs, a symbolic swath of ice and environment-evoking sound effects. The characters don’t interact at first, so director Jeremy Gable isolates each actor in private space until his or her turn to talk.

Jill Cary Martin, as Nancy, chats cheerily about gardening and about her daughters, though one senses something astir deeper inside. The actress looks too young for the role but deepens into it as Nancy’s reserve crumbles to reveal the unbearable pain underneath.

Katie Chidester, portraying Agnetha, an American studying serial killers, is assigned the difficult task of straightaway succumbing to a crying jag. She is not the least convincing at this but quickly enters a comfort zone as the role develops into that of a woman who uses humor to keep sadness at bay.

Each character is capable of ugly behavior. Lavery insists that the audience try to understand each one -- even the one we don’t want to.

-- Daryl H. Miller

“Frozen,” Hunger Artists Theatre in College Business Park, 699-A S. State College Blvd., Fullerton. 8 p.m. Fridays and Saturdays, 7 p.m. Sundays. Ends May 27. $18. (714) 680-6803 or www.hungerartists.com. Running time: 2 hours, 20 minutes.