THEATER REVIEWS

How to share a one-night stand, and the same address? What looks like the setup for a romantic comedy twists into a slasher nightmare in “Killing Diaz,” Cameron Fife’s promising but shallow one-act presented by the Immediate Theatre Group at the Lounge Theatre.

Imagine “He’s Just Not That Into You” as written by Neil LaBute: Adam (Wilton Godfrey) and Cam (the playwright) are savoring the departure of their mercenary roommate, Joe (Adam Brooks), when the prodigal returns and promptly starts mooching cigarettes and talking trash about his latest conquest, a girl named Diaz who lives upstairs. She keeps calling. It’s awkward. They’ll have to do something. And their creepy friend Tyler (Max Crumm, fresh off his Broadway stint in “Grease,” which he won on the TV contest “Grease: You’re the One That I Want”), has a final solution.

Fife has a sly way with twentysomething guy-speak, deftly articulating the politics of shared apartment living; he and Godfrey have a nice rapport. But when the plot kicks in (not that the title gives it away or anything), “Diaz” loses its nervous little vibe, and director Chuck Bradley lets it sag into a lazy cartoon. The more blood, the less suspense. For his next play, Fife should keep sharp weapons where they belong -- in the mouths of his characters.

-- Charlotte Stoudt

“Killing Diaz,” the Lounge Theatre, 6201 Santa Monica Blvd., Hollywood. 8 p.m. Fridays and Saturdays, 7 p.m. Sundays. Ends Feb 1. $15. (323) 960-5080. Running time: 45 minutes.

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Characters spark in ‘Love Song’

“I think a person can have you at gunpoint whether or not they have a gun,” says the hero of “Love Song.” That contains the crux of John Kolvenbach’s 2006 reverie on the redemptive potential of human contact, which affably opens Rude Guerrilla Theater Company’s 12th (and final) season in Santa Ana.

Perhaps best known for his searing “On an Average Day,” Kolvenbach’s style combines naturalism with skewed wit, and “Love Song” is certainly quirky. It concerns Beane (Alex Walters), a near-agoraphobic tollbooth clerk in the big city. Overworked Joan (Melita Sagar), his upscale sister, and Harry (Joe Hernandez), her diffident husband, have concerns about Beane’s failure to connect, though their marital example isn’t exactly vibrant.

Until wan Beane enters his dark apartment to encounter burglar Molly (Jami McCoy), who takes his few pitiful possessions and takes him to task for his pathetic life. The catalytic relationship that develops revitalizes Beane and gives Joan and Harry’s marriage a randy boost by default. This being a romantic comedy, there’s a catch, and that’s all I’m saying.

It’s more mainstream fare than one associates with Rude Guerrilla, which recently announced it will close and reconstitute into two new entities come September. Yet director Jenni Dillon gives the proceedings an edgy spark, and her cast plays well together. Walters and McCoy, who could do their respective hangdog and caustic roles in their sleep, make appealing attracted opposites. Sagar’s crisp comic chops are hilarious, and Hernandez counters being a shade too young with wry reactions.

The chief liabilities are the script’s slightness, more New Yorker novella than play, and a narrative arc that won’t enchant exacting viewers. Those who enjoyed such films as “Lars and the Real Girl” or “Punch-Drunk Love,” however, may leave this low-key fable humming a tune and wearing a goofy grin.

-- David C. Nichols

“Love Song,” Rude Guerrilla Theater Company, 202 N. Broadway, Santa Ana. 8 p.m. Fridays, 4:30 p.m. Saturdays. Ends Jan. 31. $20. (714) 547-4688. Running time: 1 hour, 30 minutes.

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‘Naked’ follow-up brazens it out

It seems futile to apply critical standards to “Hangin’ Out,” for reasons that are apparent two minutes in. Creator-director Robert Schrock’s follow-up to his smash “Naked Boys Singing” bares its wares with determined aplomb. The degree to which it succeeds is another matter.

The old-school revue elements are in place at the Macha Theatre: a versatile cast, a songbook that ranges from pre-Berlin to post-Sondheim, many irreverent surprises.

Yet, no sooner do the six performers shed their bathrobes and tear into the title tune au naturel than a schism between content and form emerges.

What sold “Naked Boys” was its unwavering self-deprecation, a larky insouciance that trumped questions of exploitation or taste. “Hangin’ Out” attempts to move that tomfoolery into wider heterosexual waters, and musical director Gerald Sternbach and choreog- rapher Ken Roht are invaluable assets.

So is the fearless cast, which unifies contrasting styles with unself-conscious panache. Karole Foreman has a broad, expressive range, a righteous gospel wail. The statuesque Heather Capps sings and underplays with verve. Lana Harper delivers the rudest double-entendres with sharply piquant timing. Eric B. Anthony demonstrates considerable physical grace. Marco Infante is a shrewd singing comedian and Brent Keast conveys understated strength.

At times, the material, credited to Schrock and multiple authors, justifies their unfettered pizazz. Ben Schaechter and Adele Ahronheim’s “Angry Naked Women” would not shame Flaherty and Ahrens. Adryan Russ’ avid “Hunger” gives Foreman her best show-stopping opportunity.

Rayme Sciaroni and Schrock’s “Work of Art,” a perspective from famous statuary and paintings, is the best moment in the show.

Elsewhere, things careen from satirical to sophomoric to sincere and back. Despite the talent afoot, the show’s point is erratic, to put it mildly. “Hangin’ Out” may well gain a following. It is nothing if not game. Still, the trope that sequels seldom surpass the original is regrettably on full display here.

-- David C. Nichols

“Hangin’ Out,” Macha Theatre, 1107 N. Kings Road, West Hollywood. 8 p.m. Thursdays through Saturdays, 3 p.m. Sundays. Ends Feb. 15. Adult audiences. (323) 960-4443. $34.95. Running time: 1 hour, 30 minutes.