Furious should go forward

A phone, a pair of underwear and a set of keys: Everyday items carry an explosive charge in “Saturday Night at the Palace,” a clamorous but unconvincing three-hander about the corrosive effects of racism that’s a Furious Theatre production at Pasadena Playhouse’s Carrie Hamilton Theatre.

It’s 1982, somewhere near the outskirts of Johannesburg, South Africa. A couple of young white “okes” (Eric Pargac and Shawn Lee) on their way home from a late-night party have run into motorcycle trouble. Tired, hungry and drunk, they stumble on a burger joint that September (Sean Blakemore), a taciturn Zulu, is closing. As the night grinds on, the issue turns out not to be the engine but rather what’s secretly driving each man’s actions.

This “Palace” is a revival of Furious Theatre’s 2002 inaugural production, which garnered considerable attention. (How many companies would start off with a show that required a Zulu language consultant?) The intrepid Furious has gone on to stage compelling work by Jez Butterworth, Craig Wright and Muslim American playwright Yussef El Guindi, and their bold, familiar gestalt is here too: The design elements, especially Cricket S. Myers’ relentlessly percussive sound, create an atmosphere of exhaustion bordering on delirium. And the subject matter packs a wallop -- a bluntly effective reminder of how recently apartheid held brutal sway over South Africa.

But author Paul Slabolepszy’s violent chamber piece is tricky. While the play offers surprising twists, not all feel credible or earned. Director Damaso Rodriguez hasn’t figured out how to make each appear inevitable rather than schematic; as a result, the actors seem like they’re trying to service a particular story instead of inhabiting a world where their limited options are shrinking fast. As September, Blakemore turns in impressively focused work, yet even he can’t transcend the sense that the game is rigged. While “Palace” may be Furious’ celebratory return to the past, perhaps they’ve come further than they realize.

-- Charlotte Stoudt

“Saturday Night at the Palace,” Pasadena Playhouse Carrie Hamilton Theatre, 39 S. El Molino Ave., Pasadena. 8 p.m. Thursdays through Saturdays, 7:30 p.m. Sundays. Ends May 31. $10-$25. (800) 595-4849. Running time: 1 hour, 40 minutes.

--

A bold, brave but baffling ‘Mission’

Like an ever-mutating nightmare, the scenes bleed into one another: Masked contestants meet for a brutal episode of “American Gladiators.” An office elevator carries its panicked occupant not to a meeting with “the boss” but to the Iraq desert. And a U.S. soldier worries that he’s helped to set the world on fire.

These scenes -- and others that are much creepier -- unfurl in “The Mission (Accomplished),” City Garage’s latest variation on the work of the late avant-garde German playwright Heiner Muller.

The piece ponders what can happen when hard-line ideology is imposed on mutable reality. Muller’s 1979 original, translated as “The Mission” or “The Task,” depicts a covert operation gone awry when French revolutionaries try to foment a slave rebellion in British-held Jamaica in the 1790s.

The City Garage adaptation, by Charles Duncombe, adds a further historical filter: the U.S. incursion in Iraq. One character, speaking with a Texas twang, delivers sermon-like speeches in which he says the spread of democracy is America’s mission, entrusted by God. The dialogue is coy about identifying him, but the program names him as “Bush.”

The explanatory text in that program is required reading beforehand, because once the house lights dim, reference points are vague and shifting. The midnight landscape -- splashed with ominous red -- is so minimalist that it’s all but featureless. Historical periods seep into one another, and the actors continually transfigure into new roles. Under Frederique Michel’s direction, this “Mission” is brave and uncompromising, if often bewildering.

-- Daryl H. Miller

“The Mission (Accomplished),” City Garage, 1340 1/2 4th St. (alley), Santa Monica. 8 p.m. Fridays and Saturdays, 5:30 p.m. Sundays. Ends June 1. $20. (310) 319-9939. Running time: 1 hour, 25 minutes.

--

Scheming in declining Rome

Though parallels to current dynasties abound in “Britannicus,” what really stand out are personal dilemmas. For all its political gristle, Jean Racine’s 1669 classic about power grabs in Nero’s court turns on warped family dynamics. These carry director Bart DeLorenzo’s stringent staging for California Repertory Company.

Emperor Claudius is dead, and son Britannicus (Kyle Hall) is his rightful heir, but a coup has occurred. Having usurped succession, stepbrother Nero (Josh Nathan) seems unaware of what his ascent owes to Agrippina (Maria Mayenzet), his epically possessive mother. Nero is more intent on Junia (Anna Steers), Britannicus’ betrothed. This obsession launches tactical ploys that end in assassination and madness, with Rome’s downfall on the horizon.

Although a shade too poised, DeLorenzo’s austere approach locates the human calculations that motivate Racine’s declamations. His capable cast gradually catches fire within the bounds of adaptor John Rafter Lee’s updated cadences. Mayenzet exudes the corrupt eroticism beneath Agrippina’s patrician demeanor, and Nathan gives Nero the explosive range of a Scorsese antihero, making their Act 2 face-off a disturbing highlight. Hall’s collegiate fervor suits idealistic Britannicus, well paired with Steers, who upends Junia’s fragility to poignant effect.

Danila Korogodsky’s set design -- a gold-splashed red facade overlooking an imperial signet with its head exploded -- provides the palette for Nancy Wei’s totalitarian-chic costumes, Leah Austin’s ripe lighting and John Zalewski’s imposing sound.

Throughout, DeLorenzo emphasizes restraint over decadence, which renders the bloody ending less tragically inevitable than brutally blunt. Yet there’s a perverse fascination to “Britannicus,” and not just for neoclassical scholars or policy wonks.

-- David C. Nichols

“Britannicus,” National Guard Armory, 854 E. 7th St., Long Beach. 7 p.m. Tuesdays through Thursdays, 8 p.m. Fridays and Saturdays. Ends May 17. $20. (562) 985-5526. Running time: 2 hours.

--

Fine work put into ‘Beauty’

Look in a theater history book and you might spot the name Edward Kynaston. He was an actor in the 1660s when English theater, suppressed during the Puritan years, bloomed again under the restored monarchy.

As playwright Jeffrey Hatcher envisions the scene in “Compleat Female Stage Beauty,” Kynaston, a specialist in women’s roles, would have been quickly in, then back out of demand. The reason: Concurrently with theater’s reemergence, the longtime prohibition against female actors also fell away.

Hatcher’s 1999 drama became the 2004 movie “Stage Beauty.” It returns to the stage as the inaugural presentation of an adventuresome collective, Rogue Machine.

Just as Hatcher’s script filters history through present-day language and sensibilities, so too does the look of this presentation -- overseen by director John Perrin Flynn and scenic and costume designer Stephanie Kerley Schwartz -- blend periods. Jeans and rolling office chairs exist alongside brocade coats and architectural curlicues.

Similarly, the performances are stylized in ways that suggest the grander, more gestural acting technique of Kynaston’s time but gradually, as emotions deepen, assume today’s realistic dimensions. The period blend doesn’t work so well here, however, because by the time the characters become more human, the audience has given up trying to empathize.

The cast numbers an impressive 16, led by Michael Traynor as a Kynaston who matures from self-destructive celebrity -- talented but conceited and insecure -- to humbled, focused artist.

Hatcher glances upon a number of themes but makes a lingering statement about none of them. Despite the fine work invested in it, the story never achieves its potential.

-- D.H.M.

“Compleat Female Stage Beauty,” Rogue Machine at Theatre/Theater, 5041 Pico Blvd., Los Angeles. 8 p.m. Fridays and Saturdays, 3 p.m. Sundays. Ends June 1. $25. (323) 960-7726. Running time: 2 hours, 40 minutes.

--

Truthful take on a tough topic

Frequent flashes of potent behavioral truth inform “He Asked for It” at Theatre of NOTE. Erik Patterson’s tragicomedy of societal identity and HIV in 21st century Hollywood concerns the phenomenon of “bug-chasing” men who seek unprotected sex from the “gift-giving” men who engage in it.

“He Asked for It” follows Ted (the affecting Jed Egender), a Tinseltown hopeful whose naive amiability masks conflicts. He is perplexed by industry hotshot Marcus (Joel Scher), who won’t represent him unless he lies about being gay. Stardom isn’t the only reason Ted has fled his Heartland roots, as indicated by phone conversations with Sophie (Rebecca Sigl), his teen sister.

That narrative thread intersects with the central scenario, which involves two men Ted meets on the Internet: Rigby (a formidable Christopher Nieman), a self-possessed gaffer, and Henry (Ron Morehouse), a hopeless romantic.

Director Neil H. Weiss oversees a fluid, minimalist outing, with Michael Montenegro’s lighting and Dennis Yen’s sound especially resourceful. Patterson’s brightest gifts -- authentic idiom, sharp humor, beautifully layered dialogue -- are on display, and the players embrace the swerving stakes.

What’s still needed are ruthless trims to an unwieldy script that explains more than it has to, and a surer thematic focus. Still, this is a brave, worthy take on a difficult topic, and as such merits attendance.

-- D.C.N.

“He Asked for It,” Theatre of NOTE, 1517 N. Cahuenga Blvd., Hollywood. 8 p.m. Fridays and Saturdays, 7 p.m. Sundays. Ends June 1. Adult content. $22. (323) 856-8611. Running time: 2 hours, 30 minutes.

--

Singing bugs but not much else

“Pest Control . . . The Musical” is a gaudy and often incoherent spectacle that fails at many things, but it does succeed at delivering precisely what the title promises: swarms of giant bugs belting out big musical numbers.

Barely five minutes into the show, currently at the NoHo Arts Center, an ensemble of singers dressed in cockroach outfits takes over the stage and blasts a number titled “What Doesn’t Kill Us.” The scene soon reveals itself to be a dream sequence inside the head of Bob (Darren Ritchie), a goofy New Yorker who runs his own exterminating business.

Bob gradually gets drawn into a complicated plot involving mistaken identity, rival assassins and a Latin American dictator. Along the way, he falls for a CIA agent (Beth Malone) who was assigned to follow him. The amorous couple must contend with all sorts of odd characters, including a chain-smoking crime boss (Joanna Glushak) and a Borat-esque sleazebag (John Allsopp).

Neither the plot nor characters makes much sense. Scenes feel truncated or long-winded, and the direction by James J. Mellon does little to help.

The wall-to-wall score by Vladimir Shainskiy is serviceable but forgettable, and the lyrics by Scott DeTurk aren’t campy or self-aware enough to elevate the show’s silly premise beyond merely silly.

Ritchie and Malone act up a comic storm in their scenes together. The supporting cast also pulls its weight, especially Glushak, who goes gleefully over the top as the villain, and Tony winner Cleavant Derricks, who forms a full character out of his nothing role as a CIA chief.

Creating a lighthearted musical from gross subject material (e.g., “Urinetown”) is a popular theater formula. Though its juvenile heart is in the right place, “Pest Control” proves how difficult it is to put that formula into practice.

-- David Ng

“Pest Control . . . The Musical,” Noho Arts Center, 11136 Magnolia Blvd., North Hollywood. 8 p.m. Thursdays through Saturdays; 3 p.m., Sundays. Ends June 8. $25-$35. (818) 508-7101. Running time: 2 hours, 30 minutes.