THEATER BEAT

Sure, it’s earnest, occasionally clunky and a little too long. But as Deaf West’s revival makes clear, “Children of a Lesser God” remains remarkably durable, both as a landmark drama of the deaf experience and a portrait of a tempestuous marriage between equals.

Mark Medoff’s dramedy moved from the Mark Taper Forum to take Broadway by storm in 1980. The play’s passionate cry for self-determination resonated at a moment when the struggles of many marginalized communities came to national consciousness. (The 1986 film softened the story; the original version has considerably more kick.)

This 30th-anniversary production is presented in American Sign Language, spoken English and supertitles, making it fully accessible to both hearing and deaf audiences. Played out on John Iacovelli’s two-tiered minimalist set, the emphasis is on mouths and hands desperate to be understood.

James (Matthew Jaeger) teaches speech at a less-than-progressive school for the deaf. He meets his match in one of the school’s maids, Sarah (Shoshannah Stern), too proud to learn to speak. They spar, then flirt, constantly taking each other’s measure. Just getting through the menu on a dinner date requires more negotiation than a U.N. summit. James and Sarah’s growing attraction is frowned upon by everyone from deaf students Orin (Brian M. Cole) and Lydia (Tami Lee Santimyer) to an older professor (Time Winters), who dryly informs James: “We don’t fornicate with the students, we just screw them over.” Yet love triumphs -- at first.

Medoff sets the play “in the mind of James Leeds” and isn’t afraid to show his hero’s flaws. The damaged James protects himself with humor that hides intense rage, and Jaeger convinces as a lost man who makes the mistake of finding himself through changing others. The deaf may require an interpreter, but he’s the real codependent. But it’s Stern’s deeply felt performance that gives this production its real power. Quick-witted and supremely expressive, she channels the grief of a ferociously intelligent soul smothered by the hearing world’s prejudices.

Director Jonathan Barlow Lee, who staged managed the original Broadway production, tracks the couple’s shifting relationship with clarity. He is less successful at integrating the play’s other characters, thinly drawn in comparison to the complicated leads.

In recent years, cyberspace has opened up infinite channels of communication. But “Children” makes a bold, imperfect case that our humanity lies within dialogue up close and very personal, regardless of the means of speech.

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Charlotte Stoudt --

“Children of a Lesser God,” Deaf West Theatre, 5112 Lankershim Blvd., North Hollywood. 8 p.m. Thursdays through Saturdays, 2 p.m. Sundays. Ends Oct. 18. $25. (866) 811-4111. Running time: 2 hours, 40 minutes.

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Love and loss in ‘Three Sisters’

Director Jack Stehlin doesn’t strive for revisionism in Chekhov’s “Three Sisters” at the Odyssey Theatre. However, although his staging is hardly ground-breaking, it is well-paced, satisfying and solid down to the ground.

Over the various acts, Kitty Rose’s scenic design dwindles from cozy parlor to bare atelier to a stark and empty stage strewn with an autumnal fall of red leaves. It’s a vivid visual metaphor for the play’s progression of inexorable loss.

As is typical with Chekhov, the various characters have their heads in the clouds and their feet in fast-drying cement. Incapable of jumping off the tracks, they are content to discuss the velocity of the onrushing train.

Unhappily married to local schoolteacher Kulygin (Alexander Wells), tempestuous Masha (Susan Ziegler) falls in love with Vershinin (Tom Groenwald), a career military officer whose Utopian projections distract him from his own marital woes. When the sisters’ beloved brother Andrey (Scott Sheldon) weds the coarsely manipulative Natalia (Cameron Meyer), the family fortunes plummet disastrously. Irina (Murielle Zuker), the youngest sister, may find salvation in marriage. Of course, it’s the play’s great irony that, when Irina finally takes decisive action, accepting one from among her suitors, tragedy ensues.

The cast is excellent, but certain performers stand out. As Olga, the oldest sister, Vanessa Waters brings delicate warmth to a role too often played as a pinched spinster. Groenwald’s Vershinin is a larger-than-life enthusiast whose sheer affability is a triumph over sad circumstance. Thomas Kopache, as the boozy army doctor who dotes on the sisters, captures the exquisite pain of a would-be nihilist whose intractable humanity keeps surfacing. But it is Meyer, as the deliciously detestable Natalia, who steals the show in a performance of unparalleled repugnance.

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F. Kathleen Foley --

“Three Sisters,” Odyssey, 2055 S. Sepulveda Blvd., Los Angeles. 8 p.m. Thursdays-Saturdays, 2 p.m. Sundays. 8 p.m. Wednesdays, Sept. 30, Oct. 7 and 14. 7 p.m. Sunday, Nov. 8. Ends Nov. 8. $25-$30. (310) 477-2055, Ext. 2. Running time: 2 hours, 50 minutes.

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Facing Katrina’s fierce winds

In the four years since Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans, it is bewildering how relatively little theater has addressed the disaster. At some level, the Write Act Repertory production “How Katrina Plays,” the late Judi Ann Mason’s docudrama, is thus beyond criticism.

Acclaimed TV writer Mason, who died July 8, intended it as a historical record and a tribute to her late brother, B.J. Mason, a Louisiana journalist who kept her apprised of what was transpiring. Played by Christopher Carrington, B.J. is one of the narrative linchpins.

The other is Bella Sera (Wil Bowers), a fierce transvestite who leads a “hurricane party,” complete with revelers and a righteous band under Lou Briggs’ musical direction. On designer Thomas Brown’s evocative Bourbon Street set, they frame a surreal gumbo of chaos, terror and heroism.

A mother and son spend the show frantically searching for each other. A wealthy Southern belle seeks the ancient housekeeper who means more to her than her kin. Convicts take the opportunity to escape; residents trapped on their roofs witness atrocities. The Superdome becomes hell on Earth, the Klan rears its ugly head, and a vast diaspora ensues.

Racism dominates the scenario, even more than governmental ineptitude. Yet the ferocious veracity of what’s recounted is undeniable.

Director Tchia Casselle stewards her large ensemble past some awkward patches and unfinished glitches. They all merit our admiration. “How Katrina Plays” isn’t the last word on this tragedy -- no single piece should be -- but its aims couldn’t be higher.

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David C. Nichols --

“How Katrina Plays,” Write Act Repertory at St. Stephen’s Church, 6128 Yucca St., Hollywood. 8 p.m. Thursdays through Saturdays. Also, 5 p.m. Oct. 11 and 25. Ends Oct. 25. $25. (323) 469-3113. Running time: 2 hours, 25 minutes.

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Double bill at the Actors’ Gang

There’s noteworthy invention to “Death and Giggles” and “Sole Mate” at the Actors’ Gang, a resourceful double bill of performance pieces that takes “less is more” to another level.

A joint venture with Three Chairs Theater Company, the program is at once slight and disarming. After the announcements by flash-lighted MC Fingaz (Eleanor van Hest), “Sole Mate” starts things off. Cristina Bercovitz portrays flap-toed Mr. Shoe, who longs for his ideal partner. While Bercovitz pipes away to sound designer Jonathan Snipes’ whimsical tune, the flexible Jessica Erskine gives various possibilities a leg up from around a screen. All ends happily, albeit inevitably.

“Death and Giggles,” the main event, is a largely wordless rumination co-created by Bercovitz and the impressive Daisuke Tsuji. We follow Giggles (Tsuji) from childhood to the twilight years, as he copes with many balloons, abstract dreams and a sock puppet. Cirque du Soleil veteran Tsuji has an expressive face and controlled physicality. When he spouts loopy doggerel while making his smiling way into the audience, it’s hard to resist.

Less magical are those passages that needlessly move the childlike fun into high concept, though scenic designer Shannon Kennedy’s molded-fabric backdrop is certainly serviceable, and Francois-Pierre Couture offers rich lighting. The early passage of little Giggles reluctantly staying put is amusing; adding a rooster’s crow to its crickets would make it hysterical. And the bit of clown/balloon sexuality moves the tone from mischievous to near-crude. Still, it’s a diverting attraction, although a whiff of the workshop lingers.

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David C. Nichols --

“Death and Giggles” and “Sole Mate,” Actors’ Gang at the Ivy Substation, 9070 Venice Blvd., Culver City. 9 p.m. Fridays, 8 p.m. this Saturday and Oct. 10. Ends Oct. 23. $15. (310) 838-4264. Running time: 1 hour, 20 minutes.