Teenage angst in full color

A coming-of-age story set against the backdrop of the emerging civil rights and black pride movements in the late-1960s, “Coffee Will Make You Black” at the Celebration Theatre is an insightful drama of personal and social upheaval that takes unexpected turns.

In adapting April Sinclair’s 1995 novel, director Michael A. Shepperd’s serviceable staging is a straightforward transplant of the major plot points that plays to the strengths of his performers. In particular, the well-cast Diona Reasonover brings gangly charm and vulnerability to the protagonist, Jean “Stevie” Stevenson of Chicago’s South Side. Stevie grows from a naive 11-year-old to an Afro-sporting high school junior. Her development mirrors the evolving racial consciousness of her community, wittily symbolized -- in its gains and frustrations -- by the astonishment engendered first by the sight of a “colored” person on television and later by the sight of a “black” person on TV.

There’s a clear generational progression in shedding internalized stereotypes from Stevie’s traditional grandma (Sonia Jackson) to her mom (feisty Cecelia Antoinette) to Stevie herself.

As Stevie’s peers, Aasha Davis, Charlene Modeste and Daniele Watts convincingly depict the quagmires facing lower-class urban youth -- teen pregnancies, drugs and snobby repudiation by upwardly mobile fellow blacks. Joy Sudduth brings irony and fire as a teacher fighting an uphill battle against grim odds.

Paralleling the social themes is Stevie’s awakening sexual identity, which weathers an early attraction to a vain, sexist jock (Deon Lucas). As a high school junior, she lands a boyfriend (Damani Singleton) who’s seemingly perfect but finds herself thinking more about the sympathetic school nurse (Gretchen Koerner), who happens to be white.

Refreshingly, the play leaves Stevie wrestling with sexual confusion and ambiguity rather than cliched certainty, but we end up rooting for her no matter which way she goes.

-- Philip Brandes

“Coffee Will Make You Black,” Celebration Theatre, 7051B Santa Monica Blvd., Hollywood. 8 p.m. Thursdays through Saturdays, 3 p.m. Sundays. Ends May 25. $25. (323) 957-1884 or www.tix.com. Running time: 2 hours, 25 minutes.

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‘Testosterone’ strikes right tone

Too many message-driven shows have the opposite effect of their intended reach, but not “Testosterone: How Prostate Cancer Made a Man of Me” at the Powerhouse Theatre. Hal Ackerman’s candid saga of survival has its awkward bits, but its light-handed means catch you unawares.

A longtime co-chairman of UCLA’s screenwriting program, Ackerman first published this personal account in the magazine Ink & Ashes, then AARP’s “My Generation.” Launching his direct address before the house lights dim, Ackerman moves from life before his diagnosis -- divorce, joint custody -- to the ordeal of facing the possible loss of his masculinity, not to mention his life.

If it sounds like pages from a journal, that’s how it sometimes feels, but Ackerman is so likable and unpretentious that it’s hard to kvetch too much. Tossing zingers and flashes of insight around set designer John Iacovelli’s black-scrim drop, Ackerman locates the specifics that help us identify, and his honesty about himself and the people who figure into his tale is most admirable.

So are director Michael Arabian and actors Randy Oglesby and Lisa Robins, who provide adroit support. Oglesby is especially deft as an array of doctors and technicians, from kindly to automaton to Igor from “Frankenstein.” Robins wields her soft-focus Christine Baranski qualities to fine effect, knowingly snarky as Ackerman’s teen daughter, deadpan direct as the career-woman girlfriend he tries to protect.

Frank McKown’s lighting is supple, and Bob Blackburn’s sound keeps us abreast of the shifts in locale and mood. However, “Testosterone” doesn’t turn on theatrics but on what Ackerman has gained through this experience. More than the obvious male demographic could benefit from his funny, touching testimonial.

-- David C. Nichols

“Testosterone: How Prostate Cancer Made a Man of Me,” Powerhouse Theatre, 3116 2nd St., Santa Monica. 8 p.m. Fridays and Saturdays, 4 p.m. Sundays. Ends May 10. $20. (310) 396-3680. Running time: 1 hour, 45 minutes.

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Caught up in ‘Trapezoid’s’ A.I.

In his world premiere play, presented by Lodestone Theatre Ensemble at the GTC Burbank, Nic Cha Kim shows a playful side that is highly engaging. So do director Chil Kong and the actors, who seem to be having a bang-up time with Kim’s sci-fi romp about a slam poet’s ill-fated relationship with an A.I. computer. But the play’s basic premise -- power-crazed computer runs amok and starts killing its human creators -- is a tired retread that wore out its welcome some decades back.

Lanny Joon plays Peter, the technical writer who moonlights as a spoken-word artist. Peter is recruited by Dr. Atruda (Alberto Isaac) to abet Atruda’s cutting-edge research in artificial intelligence. Atruda’s team includes abrasive Larry (Charles Kim), hard-hitting Missy (Elaine Kao) and woebegone Boris (Leonard Wu), a political prisoner seen over a live video feed from his Third World prison, where he is mercilessly abused by his sadistic guard (Ryan Mercado).

Deeply in love with his girlfriend, Amy (Julia Cho), a student who has become pregnant and is ambivalent about motherhood, Peter finds himself strangely drawn to the A.I. computer, AIMEE (amusing Stephanie Lincoln), who may share Amy’s name, homophonically speaking, but who feeds Peter’s male ego as his human girlfriend seldom does. Responding to AIMEE’s admiration, Peter infuses the computer with his gritty verses, the creative thrust that impels the computer to autonomous -- and lethal -- consciousness.

Mina Kinukawa’s sterile white set and Luis Delgado’s glaring lighting contribute to a deceptively antiseptic atmosphere that will ultimately explode into cartoonish violence. Wu is credited as fight choreographer, and the performers, agonizingly zapped by the cranky AIMEE, flail around the stage with the abandon of seasoned slapstick artists. Kim imbues his overworked tale with enough interesting twists to keep his audience entertained. However, when he shifts into “serious” mode, replete with lengthy slam poems of doubtful merit, the vaudevillian construct sags under the weight of all the dubious philosophizing.

-- F. Kathleen Foley

“Trapezoid,” GTC Burbank, 1111-B W. Olive Ave., Burbank. 8 p.m. Fridays and Saturdays, 2 p.m. Sundays. Ends May 25. $16. (323) 993-7245. Running time: 1 hour, 40 minutes.

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Passionate ‘Joan’ lacks complexity

Rejecting the polarized historical narratives that paint Joan of Arc as either a delusional fanatic or persecuted martyr, George Bernard Shaw sought a balanced historical portrait, in all its human complexity, with his 1923 drama, “Saint Joan.” Considered among Shaw’s greatest works, the play poses a formidable challenge in its intricate interplay of colliding ideas and politics. Despite some riveting moments, key aspects elude Matthew Kellen Burgos’ ambitious but overreaching 10-actor staging at the Met Theatre.

First, there’s the title role problem. Meeting its contradictory requirements too often means having to choose between a seasoned actor too mature for the character’s age (Joan was 19 at the time of her execution) or closer age-appropriateness at the expense of depth. Here, Dawn Davis proves a casting compromise in the latter direction -- her Joan’s passion and devotion are crystal clear, but one-note.

The production fares better in what is in many ways the more daunting task: debunking the evil reputation typically leveled at Joan’s accusers. Based on careful historical scrutiny, Shaw was adamant that there be no villains in the piece, maintaining that Joan’s trial was unusually fair and its outcome strictly according to applicable laws of the time. Rather than a fable of good versus evil, her story is one of realistic, irresolvable conflict between a naive crusader and the secular institutions that could not withstand the existential threat she posed to them.

The most powerful scene is a debate among a worldly feudal aristocrat (Jason Vizza), a bishop (Joseph A. Cincotti) and a hotheaded chaplain (Sam R. Ross) -- a near-perfect embodiment of Shaw’s ideal of impassioned intellect.

Unfortunately, much of the production skirts that ideal in favor of the play’s more melodramatic elements, at times (as in the excision of the epilogue) violating Shaw’s explicit staging instructions.

-- P.B.

“Saint Joan,” Met Theatre, 1089 N. Oxford Ave., Hollywood. 8 p.m. Thursdays through Saturdays, 7 p.m. Sundays. Ends May 25. $20. (323) 957-1152. Running time: 2 hours, 45 minutes.

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Flapping woefully ‘In the Wings’

Art imitates life throughout “In the Wings” at the Whitefire Theatre, but it’s largely theater manque. Actor-writer Jerry Sroka’s backstage dramedy about a misfired commercial play that mirrors its creators’ infertility woes has its own problems to address.

For instance, there’s the overambitious narrative. It follows the troubled rehearsal process for “The Porch,” a presumably high-profile study of a couple trying to conceive. This play-within-a-play reflects the travails of author-director Sam (Daniel Hagen) and producer Julie (Annette Reid), who is thrown into the unenviable role of playing herself after the inadequate leading lady is fired.

That through-line, and its revelations about Sam and Julie’s marital strain, carries a measure of bittersweet promise. Sadly, it’s buried under pallid one-liners and procedural details that might feel authentic to working professionals but don’t add up to coherent dramaturgy. The various characters and their fictional counterparts are not so much archetypes as cliches: the obnoxious jokester who gives his colleagues notes (Greg Bryan), the overeager, empty-headed ingenue (Liz Sroka), the gay martinet of a stage manager (Sean Moran).

Certainly, the ever-welcome Mariette Hartley brings more finesse to her seen-it-all Equity deputy than the role contains, and Will Schaub finds genuine irony in his self-adoring TV star. Still, overall, “In the Wings” suggests a condensed “Noises Off” minus farce, and director Don Eitner cannot make the too-brief scenario seem otherwise. At one point, the term “workshop” comes up, and that is exactly where this inchoate item belongs.

-- D.C.N.

“In the Wings,” Whitefire Theatre, 13500 Ventura Blvd., Sherman Oaks. 8 p.m. Fridays and Saturdays, 3 p.m Sundays; dark April 26. Ends May 11. $25. (323) 960-7735. Running time: 1 hour, 30 minutes.