Spring Awakenings

[May 7th, 2008]

The Little Dog Laughed (Portland Center Stage)

It’s obvious why there are so many plays and movies about show business—“write what you know” applies to playwrights, too—and why actors love to perform them, but why do the rest of us find them so appealing? Are we comforted to know that other people’s co-workers are more neurotic than our own? Does A Chorus Line make us feel better about our own job interviews? I think the answer is even simpler than that: We just enjoy the novelty of watching actors perform as their nonperforming selves.

There’s a lot of performed nonperformance in this very funny comedy by Douglas Carter Beane (To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything! Julie Newmar) about Mitchell, a self-loathing gay movie star, the young rent-boy he falls for, the rent-boy’s girlfriend, and Diane, the obnoxious, sexless lesbian agent who has to make sure nobody falls out of the closet. It’s well-worn material—New Yorkers are bitchy, movie people are crass, being gay is tough, etc.—but Beane seasons the old gags with a filthy-minded wit that makes them feel fresh. The out-of-town cast is very good—particularly Antoinette LaVecchia, who plays Diane as a smart-ass Mephistopheles in a white pantsuit. High drama this is not, but there are worse ways to spend a spring evening.

How gay? The quantity and degree of sex in this show has been oversold. Yes, there are naked boys in bed, but it’s no more titillating than an average Abercrombie ad. Your grandma would be shocked; your parents will probably be OK.

The History Boys (Artists Rep)

Alan Bennett’s prep-school sorta-romance is likely to divide audiences. If close to three hours of hyperarticulate schoolboy banter, a trio of awkward infatuations and a garnish of educational theory sounds like a good time to you, you’ll love it. I did. Though he’s prone to over-writing, Bennett’s dramatic poetry is among the best of his generation, and in History Boys he has forged an unforgettable cast of characters: The hardass headmaster, the student-groping lit teacher, the cynically provocative historian and the class of eight unnaturally bright students who want nothing more than to make it into Oxford, Cambridge or one another’s trousers.

Jon Kretzu’s production is solid throughout. While the teachers are all quite good, and Chris Harder gives his best performance to date in Portland as Irwin, the sardonic young history teacher, every scene is stolen by the boys. It’s a delight to see such an energetic bunch of young actors at work, even if a few are less than polished. Two particularly deserving recognition are the always-good Tyler Caffall as Scripps, the religious one, and Josiah Bania as the lustful and domineering Dakins. Bania has the charisma and looks of a young Matt Damon, and we hope to see more of him in the future.

How gay? Posner wants Dakins who wants Irwin and is wanted by Hector. ’Nuff said.

For:Give (Insight Out Theatre Collective)

The latest project from the people behind last season’s laudable Leni and The Yellow Boat is a multidisciplinary piece, two years in the making, that evinces little in the way of discipline and nothing resembling insight. Drawing its inspiration from The Tempest, this seven-woman mess finds Prospero (or his analog, a disturbed former executive named Priscilla) trapped not on a desert island, to which she lures her enemies to enact her revenge, but in the Mississippi Ballroom, to which she lures unsuspecting audiences for two hours of fractured, confusing and miserably boring dramatic torture. It’s not the cast’s fault that there’s so little to enjoy in this high-concept snafu. They’re fine actors, but all they have to work with are some nice lights, a bucket full of blunt declaratives and a lot of umbrellas. Coming from a purportedly professional organization, this is embarrassing. While I’ve seen worse shows this season—Roger and the Cave Monster comes to mind—none has been such a disappointment.

How gay? Just some mild teenage girl-on-girl. It would be touchingly innocent if one of them weren’t mentally disabled.