A World Gone Mad in Theatricum’s ‘Chaillot’

The revival of “The Madwoman of Chaillot” at the Will Geer Theatricum Botanicum couldn’t have been better timed. In his classic 1944 comedy, Jean Giraudoux parlayed his varied career as playwright, essayist and diplomat into a strikingly prescient sociopolitical vision. Its relevance to current headlines is brilliantly illuminated in Heidi Helen Davis’ staging, though the play’s fairy tale romanticism proves a tougher sell.

Guaranteed to drop jaws is the play’s outrageous opening cafe conversation in which the President (Alan Blumenfeld) enlists a dissolute Baron (William Hunt) to lend his celebrity stature to the board of directors of a bogus corporation. Not only does Giraudoux elegantly skewer the corrupted values of bourgeoisie and aristocracy alike, but the stock swindle scheme they concoct sounds like a blueprint for the Enron/WorldCom debacles.

In assured performances, Blumenfeld and Hunt feast on the comic possibilities of these despicable characters, preying on the gullibility of little people all too willing to entrust them with their life savings. But the pair meet their match in Tom Allard’s sardonic turn as a crusty Texas oil prospector who wants to turn Paris into a vast expanse of oil drills.

Combating the arrayed forces of corporate greed, environmental pillaging and media spin doctors requires the pure spirit of the local “madwoman,” an eccentric Countess (Ellen Geer) who remains stubbornly obedient to the voices of her poetic soul.

The feisty, iconoclastic Countess who stirs resistance among the populace is a perfect fit for Geer. Unfortunately, her exquisitely malevolent trio of primary opponents exits the stage partway through the first half, only to return briefly in the finale. In their absence, the play’s energy flags, and it slows to a crawl during some indulgent sequences that haven’t aged as well as the formulation of the issues. The worst offender is a mock trial in which the Countess prosecutes the evildoers in absentia, letting one of her own cohorts speak on their behalf. All that’s missing from this court are the kangaroos.

In addition to some uneven supporting performances among the huge cast, a number of dropped lines bore the earmarks of a premature opening, handicapping a work that demands exceptional finesse. Most in need of burnishing is the theme of failed romance and the folly of wasted opportunity, the play’s most enduring claim to greatness.

Philip Brandes

“The Madwoman of Chaillot,” Will Geer Theatricum Botanicum, 1419 Topanga Canyon Blvd., Topanga. Saturdays, 8 p.m., through Aug. 31; Sundays, 7:30 p.m., through Sept. 22; Sept. 28, 4 p.m.; Oct. 5-19: 3 p.m. (Pre-show discussion, Sept. 8, 6:30 p.m.). Ends Oct. 19. $14-22. (310) 455-3723. Running time: 2 hours, 35 minutes.

The Ghost of Loss Haunts Characters of ‘The Weir’

What begins as an ordinary ghost story yields lightning glimpses of tragedy in “The Weir,” now being presented by Theatre Banshee at the Gene Bua Theatre. Conor McPherson’s much-produced play, seen last year at the Geffen Playhouse, is deceptively simple in structure: a boozy fireside chat about local haunts and legends--until an unexpected revelation skews the play in a wrenching new direction.

McPherson understands that any good ghost story requires just the right setting, and what could be more evocative than an isolated Irish pub with a good peat fire on the hearth? Arthur MacBride’s meticulously realized set makes it easy to understand why pubs are alternately referred to as “snugs” in the local idiom, although MacBride’s lighting seems a bit bright for the intended ambience. Nevertheless, it’s an inviting haven, and the winds roaring outside, courtesy of Erik Hockman and Clayton Tripp’s sound design, make it doubly cozy.

The pub’s proprietor, Brendan (Douglas Leal), is an affluent local landowner and a confirmed bachelor, as are most of his regular patrons. For Jack (Barry Lynch), an unmarried mechanic, and for Jim (Dan Harper), a handyman who still lives with his mother, the pub provides nightly company, not to mention plenty of Guinness--a liquid buffer against the emotional isolation that is their usual lot.

Into this assemblage of battered yearners comes Valerie (Leslie Baldwin), an attractive outsider who has just bought a house in the area. She is escorted by Finbar (Andrew Leman), a married man who moved to the big city and made a fortune in real estate and the hotel trade. Brimming with drink and blarney, Jack sets the mood with a favorite local legend, followed in quick succession by Finbar’s and Jim’s ghostly yarns. But through their covert competition for Valerie’s attention, the men have unwittingly set the stage for Valerie’s own shocking disclosure.

In his small but richly humane story about loss and loneliness and the pitfalls of human love, McPherson accomplishes exactly what he sets out to do, quietly and efficiently. So does director Sean Branney, whose marvelous cast strikes just the right half-note between comedy and bleakness, with lashings of gallows humor to mitigate the pathos.

If there is any single component given short shrift in Branney’s staging, it’s the lustful undercurrents of these men, who seem too willing to accept Valerie as a sexless new friend. Otherwise, this is a story well woven, and the performers, particularly Leman and Lynch, swaddle us in the warm folds of the narrative with consummate and comfortable skill.

F. Kathleen Foley

“The Weir,” Gene Bua Theatre, 3435 W. Magnolia Blvd., Burbank. Fridays-Saturdays, 8 p.m.; Sundays, 2 p.m. Ends Sept. 1. $15. (818) 628-0688. Running time: 1 hour, 40 minutes.

‘Sister Mary’ Keeps an Eye on Absurdist ‘Universe’

Given the current Catholic Church scandals, it seems courageously logical to conjoin Christopher Durang’s “Sister Mary Ignatius Explains It All for You” with his “The Nature and Purpose of the Universe.” In doing so, the Rude Guerrilla Theatre Company’s energetic production generates much lethal hilarity.

“Sister Mary” has been a staple since its 1981 premiere, most recently a teleplay starring Diane Keaton. The title nun (Sharyn Case) enters in dogmatic lecture mode, with an automaton-like child assistant (Trevor McKay). Her tirade is interrupted by embittered former students (Rachel Hirsch, Kelly Stark, Mark St. John and Stephen Wagner), their warped Nativity pageant tilting the proceedings into satiric nightmare.

Durang’s construct remains trenchant, and director Alexander Rodriguez understands the mordant frivolity required. Case’s twisted sister suggests Patricia Routledge cut with Bea Arthur, and her colleagues are fine, with Hirsch’s pivotal confession superb.

“Universe,” which marked Sigourney Weaver’s Manhattan debut, features two divine agents (Aurelio Locsin and Stark, both priceless) wreaking havoc on Weehawken housewife Eleanor Mann (the daft Deborah Conroy). Eleanor yearns to escape her awful husband (David Cramer), offspring (Eric Eisenbrey, Jeff Marx and St. John), interlopers (Vince Campbell, Jeff Strack and Stark) and malfunctioning appliances. A papal assassination plot and Icelandic relocation transpire.

The drawback is imbalance: “Sister Mary” originally followed the goofy “The Actor’s Nightmare,” and her alpha positioning here renders “Universe” anticlimactic. This doesn’t rob Durang’s absurdist savagery of its bite, but a reversed order would better serve accelerating tension.

David C. Nichols

“Sister Mary Ignatius Explains It All for You” and “The Nature and Purpose of the Universe,” Empire Theatre, 200 N. Broadway, Santa Ana. Fridays-Saturdays, 8 p.m.; Sundays, 2:30 p.m. Also Aug. 15, 8 p.m. Ends Aug. 18. $12-$15. (714) 547-4688. Running time: 2 hours.

One-Man Tale of Wright: An Architect’s Foundation

“F.LL.W.: The Tragedies & Triumphs of Frank Lloyd Wright,” John Crowther’s one-man play about architect Frank Lloyd Wright, holds considerable historical interest.

One can imagine it playing the college circuit for years and doing a banner business among architecture students. However, under the direction of Willard Simms, the premiere production at the Hudson Avenue Theatre is dry material that never kindles into a blaze.

Granted, Crowther had to tamp down a towering inferno of biographical data into one controlled narrative. Wright’s life was as full of scandal as it was achievement.

Abandoned by his own father in his teens, Wright subsequently left his first wife and four children, living openly with the wife of a former client at Taliesin, his fabled hillside home. In the summer of 1914, with Wright away on business, a crazed houseman murdered Wright’s lover and six others, torching Taliesin and leaving Wright’s personal life in ashes.

Crowther’s story is set in 1935, at the rebuilt Taliesin, now an informal institute for architecture students. With his career in eclipse and a couple of failed marriages behind him, Wright is working on the plans for Fallingwater--a visionary structure that will shortly thrust him back to the forefront of his field, where he will remain until his death in 1959.

Although Crowther’s performance heats up as it goes along, it’s oddly muted, deficient in the underlying narcissism and salacity that was part and parcel of Wright. In Simms’ staging, Crowther hunkers over his drafting table for undynamic stretches, relating incidents from his life to his unseen student-acolytes. His is a thoughtful Wright, and thoughtfully rendered, but without the flashes of humor and grandiosity that would have made it a vibrant portrayal of its flawed and fascinating subject, a man whose lofty edifice of egotism was one of his most unshakable constructions.

F.K.F.

“F.LL.W.: The Tragedies & Triumphs of Frank Lloyd Wright,” Hudson Avenue Theatre, 6539 Santa Monica Blvd., Hollywood. Thursdays, 8 p.m. Ends Sept. 12. $15. (323) 856-4200. Running time: 1 hour, 50 minutes.