Hypocrisy lives on, as does ‘Le Misanthrope’

How fortunate that hypocrisy never goes out of style -- it affords enduring relevance for the satirical plays of Molière and job security for those who stage them. The latest beneficiary is NoHo’s Andak Stage Company, which brings classically trained precision to Martin Crimp’s icily smart and stylish postmodern update of “Le Misanthrope.”

True to the caustic irreverence of his source, Crimp’s verse adaptation reinvents Molière’s assault on social pretense and double standards as a topical skewering of showbiz players and hangers-on. In this ultrasuperficial setting, Crimp transforms the moralistic title character, Alceste (Nick Cagle), into a British playwright bent on defending his artistic integrity against crass commercialism.

The original text’s philosophical inquiry into the role of virtue (if any) in society gets modernized in heated debates between the inflexibly idealistic Alceste and his friend John (Daniel Reichert), a pragmatic relativist.

Despite Alceste’s foolish extremism, Cagle keeps him likable, especially in his tortured attempts to rationalize his infatuation with rising movie starlet Jennifer (Samantha Sloyan), the modern incarnation of Molière’s social-climbing coquette.

The rest of Molière’s stereotyped 17th century Parisian aristocrats likewise map neatly into familiar entertainment industry figures -- a sycophantic agent (Norman Snow or Brian George), a sleazy critic (Dakin Matthews, trading off with Snow) hocking his own mediocre script, an unscrupulous postfeminist reporter (Catherine Cavadini), a coke-dealing actor (Harris Matthews), and Jennifer’s pretentious acting teacher (Carlyle King or Peggy Flood), who upbraids her ex-student for “selling out” her talent while scheming -- like everyone else -- to seduce her.

The cast consistently impresses in minimizing the artifice of Crimp’s witty but sometimes labored rhyming couplets. Director John DeMita’s ingenious use of video reinforces the theme of tabloid sensibility and the mass appetites that feed on it.

The production finds emotional balance in, of all places, Jennifer. She may be a calculating careerist, but it’s hard to blame her when the two occasions on which she risks honesty are cruelly used against her. Sloyan’s remarkable reading finds enough vulnerability to give real feeling to her ultimate apology to Alceste -- and a beating heart to what could easily become a dazzling exercise in unrelenting coldness and cynicism.

Philip Brandes

--

“Le Misanthrope,” New Place Studio Theatre, 10950 Peach Grove St., North Hollywood. 8 p.m. Fridays and Saturdays, 2:30 p.m. Sundays. Call for exceptions. Ends Oct. 14. $25. (866) 811-4111 or www.theatermania.com. Running time: 1 hour, 55 minutes.

--

Have a laugh at Bradbury’s pub

The prolific Ray Bradbury recently received a special citation Pulitzer for his decades as an “unmatched author of science fiction and fantasy.” But you’ll find no endangered Martians or evil carnies in “Falling Upward,” Bradbury’s “comedic Irish fable,” now playing at Theatre West. Inspired by the months Bradbury spent in Ireland collaborating with John Huston on the 1956 film “Moby Dick,” the play, produced by Theatre West in 2001, is a fond and comical look at Ireland as filtered through the microcosm of a rural Irish pub.

And what a pub! The boozy regulars at Heeber Finn’s view this watering hole as their second home, for obvious reasons. Jeff Rack’s set design, based on the 2001 design by Daniel Keough and Joseph A. Altadonna, is so cozy and welcoming that we want to jump onstage, belly up to the bar and order a pint. Indeed, alcohol figures prominently. When Garrity (Pat Harrington), the piece’s narrator, ponders the meaning of life, he concludes, “There’s booze and food. . . and you can forget the food.”

Heeber Finn’s is a boys’ only club, where no woman ventures and the blarney flows freely on tap, as does the wonderful Irish music -- no jukebox required.

Small matter that certain cast members suffer obvious line lapses or that the narrative wanders like a will-o’-the-wisp in a marshy fen. At least three distinct and unrelated story lines, linked only because they happen in and around Heeber’s pub, make up this “plot.” But the emphasis is on atmosphere, and director Tim Byron Owen evokes this particular time and place with an attention to detail as loving as it is rigorous.

Among the large and able cast, James Horan is particularly effective as an itinerant Brit whose exotic entourage discombobulates the local menfolk, while Mik Scriba is a fittingly towering Heeber who could eject the most obstreperous customer with a flick of a meaty paw. If you long for Ireland but can’t get there, a bracing visit to Heeber’s may satisfy your craving.

--F. Kathleen Foley

--

“Falling Upward,” 3333 Cahuenga Blvd. W., Los Angeles. 8 p.m. Friday-Saturday, 2 p.m. Sunday. Ends Sept. 16. $20-$25. (323) 851-7977. www.theatrewest.org. Running time: 2 hours, 15 minutes.

--

Atrocities without emotional connect

The plight of child soldiers in Africa has made its way into numerous books, documentaries and nightly news segments -- none of which has managed to reverse the dire situation of these young victims. The new play “Butterflies of Uganda” isn’t likely to change matters either, though it may succeed in modestly raising audience consciousness. That, unfortunately, is the most that can be said about this well-intentioned drama -- a long, rather unfocused work that feels more like a dramatized Human Rights Watch report than an actual play.

Structurally, “Butterflies” amounts to a checklist of atrocities -- and they are horrible indeed. Mary (Nana Kagga-Hill), a 12-year-old Acholi villager, is torn from her extended family by the Lord’s Resistance Army, a real-life mercenary group led by the thuggish demagogue Joseph Kony. In the most horrific scene, Mary, now a child soldier, is forced to kill one of her parents -- a technique used by armies to shame children and to prevent them from returning home. All of this is told in extended flashback as an adult Mary (Alvina Carroll) recounts her life to her daughter Mercy (also played by Kagga-Hill).

Though vividly acted, especially by the female cast members, the play (written by Darin Dahms and Soenke C. Weiss) meanders from one bullet point to another with little sense of pacing or tonal consistency. Scenes get bogged down as characters articulate the play’s message in rambling, poetic soliloquies. As an educational tool, “Butterflies” certainly warrants a school field trip. As an artistic endeavor, the play fails to make us feel any emotion for its characters beyond simplistic pity.

--David Ng

--

“Butterflies of Uganda,” The Greenway Court Theatre, 544 N. Fairfax Ave., Los Angeles. 8 p.m. Thursdays through Saturdays, 8 p.m. Ends Oct. 13. $25. (323) 655-7679 or www.greenwayarts.org. Running time: 2 hours, 20 minutes.

--

Talent is there, but the material isn’t

First produced in the mid- 1980s, John Patrick Shanley’s “The Dreamer Examines His Pillow,” now at the McCadden Place Theatre, is Shanley’s “heterosexual homily” examining -- what else? -- volatile and quirky male-female relationships.

The action transpires in three distinct scenes. The first is a charged conversation between Tommy (Jeffrey Stubblefield), an amoral Peter Pan who experiences hallucinatory visions emanating from his refrigerator, and Donna (Amanda Tepe), his ex-girlfriend, who can’t quite shake her yen for Tommy. In the second scene, Donna pays a visit to her dad (Eddie Jones), a successful alcoholic artist, unable to recover from his wife’s death, who offers Donna startling insights into his own marriage. In the third scene, Dad confronts Tommy, intending to knock some sense into the younger man -- by force, if necessary.

Strip away Shanley’s wildly discursive rantings and you’ll uncover a grand opera at the play’s drippingly sentimental core.

There’s a lot of proven talent behind this production. Director Anita Khanzadian is a stage vet with plenty of worthy productions to her credit. Stubblefield and Tepe are compelling performers with loads of stage presence. And Eddie Jones, Khanzadian’s husband, is a typically terrific actor of protean capacity.

But Shanley’s rambling play requires not so much a director as a wrangler. Sadly, Khanzadian never gets a grip on the piece. It is essential that we believe Dad could whip Tommy with one arm tied behind his back, and Jones is simply not of the age or build to convince us. Tepe goes overboard with her tough city girl posturing. And the disheveled Tommy is so unprepossessing, we never grasp Donna’s enduring attraction. Their sexual chemistry should result in a laboratory explosion, not this fizzling, failed experiment.

-- F. Kathleen Foley

--

“The Dreamer Examines His Pillow,” McCadden Place Theatre, 1157 N. McCadden Place, Hollywood. 8 p.m. Thursdays through Saturdays, 2 p.m. Sundays. Ends Oct. 14. $15-$20. (818) 765-8732. www.plays411/dreamer. Running time: 1 hours, 40 minutes.

--

Would-be receiver runs off the route

Some dreams remain out of reach no matter how tenaciously we pursue them, as onetime pro-football hopeful Roger Rodd can attest. In his solo vehicle, “Footsteps,” the actor/stand-up comic chronicles and vicariously fulfills his desire to become a wide receiver.

Staged with elegant simplicity by Michael Kearns, Rodd’s monologue is a sentimental ghost story in which his deceased alter ego, RJ, returns from limbo in full football uniform to examine his life and career -- both of which revolved around his chosen sport.

It’s a tale of repeated frustration, as year after year RJ found himself getting cut during tryouts, and Rodd tells it with the obvious pain of personal history.

His narrative takes a magical turn when RJ finds himself transported to 1958 Baltimore, where his knowledge of modern strategy and training secure him a position on the legendary Colts under his hero, quarterback Johnny Unitas.

Rodd is an engaging raconteur, though he tends to overreach with gratuitous corny punch lines. And while he is obviously committed to his story, his narrowly focused passion doesn’t translate into something more universal. Much of “Footsteps” feels like wish fulfillment therapy rather than theater.

-- Philip Brandes

--

“Footsteps,” Hayworth Theater, 2509 Wilshire Blvd., Los Angeles. 8 p.m. Thursdays through Sundays. Ends Oct. 14. $25. (323) 960-5772 or www.plays411.com/footsteps. Running time: 1 hour, 5 minutes.

--

‘The Spot’ puts its actors in a bad one

Just mounting theater in a city where media rules is an act of valor. For this, “The Spot,” a Blackhole Theatre production at Theatre Banshee, earns plaudits. Beyond that, it’s hard to know where to begin.

Let’s start with the premise, which follows six barflies through one faux-realistic day. It opens as the proprietress enters to a phone ringing. Her labored conversations inform us she’s looking for a buyer for the dive she inherited from her father, she is behind on her college tuition, and our patience is going to be tested.

There’s the lippy barmaid that suggests many a sitcom foil, and the aging ex-plumber given to clichés that would shame Hallmark. A hapless delivery boy and self-styled siren complete the regulars who orbit around disgruntled George (writer-director Danny LeGare). Returning to town because of his ailing father, George radiates existential disillusionment through a staggering tangle of collegiate dialogue, unfocused pseudo-business and rambling symbols in search of The Meaning of It All. It crystallizes with the codger’s advice: “Stop trying so hard, and find whatever it is that makes you happy.” At that point, this reviewer’s head exploded.

LeGare’s script and staging are on a par with his histrionics, and let’s leave it at that. For the sake of their careers, we will not be naming his colleagues, who vary from well intended to professional. Sadly, despite everyone’s sincerity, the chief value of this awesomely inept showcase is the cautionary service it provides to would-be 99-seat theater entrepreneurs.

--David C. Nichols

--

“The Spot,” Theatre Banshee, 3435 W. Magnolia Blvd., Burbank. 8 p.m. Thursdays through Saturdays. Ends Sept. 22. $16-$23. (818) 761-6551 or www.dannylegare.com/thespottickets. Running time: 1 hour, 15 minutes