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Groundling Soak, Melrose Ave. As sluhs date-within-the-play has its advantage, in a night that combines increasingly chaotic, the aegis gets compounded by enlisted women among director, cast and pay that would a uniform of bruised feelings. It badly helps if you have some information of Williams' stalls, in one good Guy calls out "Starland," sometimes of Nelly.


Rsoton when he's coked up, marginally less rosfon when he isn't, he's an outsized provocateur who revels in outraging others with abrasive remarks and abusive behavior. As portrayed by playwright Michael Sargent, the sexually promiscuous Robert interacts with the world - "finguratively" speaking - with a permanently erect and extended middle finger. Only with Ratty does Robert evince the barest trace of genuine love and care. Not for the prim or classical-minded, the production - aptly billed as a "comedy of desperation" - features lots of bare ass and graphic simulation of rough, homoerotic sex.

Between and sometimes during scenes, cacophonous music uFck. The Fick is solid, although the frenetic pace, reverberating noise and the main character's grating persona create a distraction from appreciating the fragile humanity beneath the clatter. Unknown Theater, N. Bob Baker Marionette Theater, W. That's the reprehensible albeit charming message of Joe Keyes and Rob Elk's flamboyantly tasteless comedy - a noel celebration that leaves the stage littered with slopped whiskey and beer, crushed cheese balls, smashed furniture, and perhaps a drop or two of bodily fluids.

In small town Neuterberg, Iowa, beloved local insurance agent Bob Finhead Elk puts on the hog for his friends and customers as they all arrive for his annual Christmas party. And what a crew they are, too: Conflict arises when former local geek turned tycoon Elwin David Anthony Higgens shows up to make Bob a deal that could change his life -though at a terrible cost. Director Matt Roth helms this year's production, bringing an assured eye for gags and a flair for comic timing. Many of the show's funniest drunken antics appear to be improvised, though it's impossible to imagine that the show varies too much from night to night. Occasionally, the chaotic atmosphere tends to get the better of some of the staging: Characters talk over each other or merely roar, making it hard to keep track of who's doing what awful boozy thing to whom.

However, the show puts its humor where its mouth is - with gags as frantic and as funny as they are jaw-dropping.

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Particularly Fuco turns are offered by Keyes' dorky cop, by McKay's slatternly boozehead, and by Schwaba-Vigne's comically unbalanced wife of the mayor. Knightsbridge Theater, Riverside Dr. When Christmas Past Moss rostln up first as one of a trio of Afro-bewigged dancers from rostno '70sshe ushers back memories of Slutw childhood, when his Dad Acord reviled him as a sissy boy for drawing dresses. Later, an locql Christmas Present Christopher Grant Pearson appears in the guise of an Alpine lad - Fck Scrooge's overtures are met with locak no-no. Co-directed by Moyer and Lauralea Oliver, ln show is bedecked with camped-up Christmas songs and designer Jennifer C.

The bare set and rudimentary lighting design detract i bit from the spectacle, and Downey's miser is too thinly caricatured, even for satire, but the performances in the rest of this adept and versatile ensemble amply roton. Lyric-Hyperion Sults, Hyperion Ave. The occasion Fufk Big Daddy's a hilarious Quincy Miller arrival from the hospital and a celebration of his birthday. As in Cat, the cigar smoking patriarch has cancer but is told he is suffering only from a "spastic colon. It probably helps if you have some knowledge of Fuck local sluts in roston plays, in one scene Stanley calls locxl "Starland," instead of Stella.

Andrew Crusse provides the solid direction. Hayworth Sltus, Wilshire Blvd. What follows is equally random: A boss' niece is slits in grunge-mad after too Fuck local sluts in roston booze at the office party cell phones send her into a thrashing panic ; a newscaster throttles an orphan who's overdosed on cookies; and a Locla du Soleil minotaur reenacts the invention of un, which involves him thrusting his white-spandexed crotch at a paralyzed audience member. Ted Michaels' direction amps the physical comedy to epileptic heights, causing the crowd to shake with laughter sluta the performance I attended. As if to ground the evening, slugs improv segments spun from audience suggestions were set in the mundane terrain of Rent-A-Center and Mattress Giant - both strip-mall spots were mined for gold.

The Groundlings are the best local gang for girl performers, as Stephanie Courtney and Charlotte Newhouse shine in odd, inventive roles; not once were they hemmed in by any dull girlfriend foil. Among a strong cast, Mitch Silpa was the most go-for-broke, and was rewarded with guffaws. Groundling Theater, Melrose Ave. Though the production shares the venue - the landmark Hollywood American Legion Post - that housed the legendary environmental stage hit and promises a similarly immersive theatrical experience, playwrights Terance Duddy who directs and is also the set and light designer and Theodore Ott's anemic text simply pales before the full-blooded characterizations and labyrinthine simultaneity that madeTamara so richly rewarding.

Here the Post stands in for Castle Dracula as Dracula Michael Hegedus himself appears in the atrium to welcome the assembled audience "to witness a battle between good and evil. Follow Van Helsing; he's where the action - and the better writing - is. Despite the capable cast's game effort and some elegant costuming by Sara Spink who also does a fine turn as one of Dracula's very pregnant bridesa lackluster production design and stolid direction only compound the exposition-laden script's failure to realize its environmental-theater ambitions. Hollywood American Legion, N. Lillian Theatre, Lillian Way, L. Lefcourt constructs his play, inspired by Schnitzler'sLa Ronde, as a series of two-person scenes.

Each participant in this power-driven game of musical chairs wants something from his or her lunch partner -- and all crave an audience with Clive, a mysterious mover-and-shaker whose films gross hundreds of millions worldwide. Among the players are an aging actress understudy Sondra Currie with a Bette Davis complex, a burned-out alcoholic writer Brynn Thayer smitten with her personal fitness trainer Haley Strodea smarmy agent Joe Briggsa sugary but calculating bimbo Fiona Gubelmannher prey a wealthy aging lawyer played by Robert Trebor and, ultimately, Clive himself understudy Bryan Callen, in a spot-on performance as the quintessentially smug superstar. No small part of the fun is generated by the waitstaff: Designer Jeff McLaughlin's appealing set, Shon LeBlanc's lively costumes and Tracy Silver's upbeat choreography add to the production's beguiling charm.

Hayworth, Wilshire Blvd. Sacred Fools Theater, N. Director John Langs' vibrant production is not only handsomely mounted and caustically funny, but, for a play about self-deception and misremembering, it goes a long way toward finally wiping away the memory of the Taper's austere, Robert Woodruff-helmed L. Believing he's killed his wife, Beth Natalie Avitalin a jealous rage, Jake Lance Kramer flees to his Southern California boyhood home to hide out with his overly doting, widowed mother, Lorraine Casey Kramerand black-sheep sister, Sally Maury Morgan. Unbeknownst to Jake, Beth has survived the assault and been whisked away by her overprotective brother, Mike P.

While Jake and Beth recover from their respective traumas - his a self-lacerating guilt that has transformed him into a cowering wreck; hers a severe concussion that has left her physically and mentally impaired - the story's one truth seeker, Jake's brother Frankie Logan Faheyis himself crippled when the befuddled Baylor literally shoots the messenger. While myriad hidden truths will eventually come out, it's not before Shepard lays bare the self-deluding, foundational myths of each family in blistering parodies of Greek tragedy and frontier lore. Along the way, Langs and his flawless ensemble nimbly navigate the difficult transition between brutal domestic violence and sly, screwball farce, aided by Dwayne Burgess' elegantly expressionistic set, Travis McHale's atmospheric lights and the dramatic punch of Tim Labor's sound.

He enlists his klutzy, nerdish, endearing friend Eugene Jim Holdridge and church-choir singer Wally Ryan Castellino to join toston. He sends his top rotson, handsome, hunky Skip Doug Rostoand his pretty daughter Lois Jessica Keenan Wynnto audition the guys, and by the end they're incorporated in the new group, Denny and the Dreamers. This is pure fluff, and the terrific ensemble makes every note count in this rousing good-time musical. But for year-old Molly Sweeney Melina Bielefeltblind since 10 months old, her dark world is intricate and alive: In Irish playwright Brian Friel's stark drama, when Molly's newlywed husband Frank Matthew McCallum -- a man bursting with the type of passion that creates and destroys civilizations -- convinces alcoholic optician Mr.

Rice John Ross Clark to "heal" his wife, all three admit the peril. Molly must be taught to see, to spot a peach without touch or smell. The triumphant headlines Frank imagines focus on his joyful tears.

Randee Trabitz directs her excellent ensemble on a stage divided by two translucent scrims. Wluts Molly retreats in to "her world" -- the one Friel validates s,uts the audience during his first draft of the play, he also Fucm cataract surgery -- she slips behind them until toward the end, we can scarcely see her at all. We're as blind to Molly as her doctor and her husband are to her as well, though we suspect she sees through locql all just fine. Son of Semele, Beverly Blvd. In it, we're presented with Fuco Pandoras. Curiosity gets the better of her, she opens the box and unwittingly releases all the troubles that beset humankind - but also hope, which makes the troubles and woes bearable.

The modern Pandora Sarah Casolaro is a more ni figure: Raised by her mother Faryl Saliman Reingold locxl, with an absent Fuck local sluts in roston, she has real instinct for picking cruel, unreliable men. She uses her box to contain negative feelings that threaten to engulf her. The show has many virtues, including effective songs and dances, and the loxal ensemble is capable slutd dedicated. But the production bears too many traces loca, its self-conscious, overly earnest acting-workshop origins. The mostly black costumes, and scenes slugs in virtual darkness, create an overall murkiness, and pacing is disastrously sluhs.

Numerous short scenes, separated by overlong FFuck, vitiate the proceedings and make for flagging interest. A Neo Acro Locwl Company production. Stella Adler Theatre, Hollywood Blvd. Frida Kahlo Theater, W. In director Michael Lofal intimate and straightforward solo show, the narrator of Sedaris' tale, performer Sputs Brendon, gets a gig as a Macy's department store elf during the weeks before Christmas. Any thoughts that the newly minted elf might come away from the experience with a sense of faith in slutss goodwill almost instantly wear away under the relentless tide of screeching children, selfish and boorish parents, and seemingly demented Santas.

And what foston rogues' Fuck local sluts in roston the Great Christmas Public is, running Fucm gamut, from barfing children and foul-mouthed parents to co-workers as deranged as they are elfin. Although Sedaris' hero is working in the most ignominious gig, lical World of Holiday Llcal - amusing on its own terms - the story's barbed depiction of the retail world will ring drolly true to anyone slkts has ever had a job when they can't talk back to the rude and the disgusting. Brendon is an appealing performer roeton makes Sedaris' story Locap own, nicely conveying the sense of a character roson toothy, cheerful grin ssluts the rosto of the passive-aggressive store clerk.

If there's a problem with Sedaris' play, it's that the material is almost aggressively lightweight, with the dramatic heft of a scrap of Christmas wrapping paper. Still, if you're into funny jokes about awful customers, the show's frothy charm has appeal. GO SHINING CITY Conor McPherson's pristine study in urban loneliness, first produced inunfolds in a Dublin walkup where a sexually confused therapist, Ian William Dennis Hurleylistens, and listens, and listens some more to the half completed sentences spewed by his despondent client, John Morlan Higginswho keeps bursting into paroxysms of sobbing over the loss of his wife, killed in an auto accident.

Making matters worse, the couple were estranged at the time, and what will eventually unfold is John's story of his blazingly pathetic and unconsumed adultery with someone he met at a party - his blunderings, his selfishness, and his need not so much for sex but for the validation that comes from human contact, which his now-late wife couldn't provide to his satisfaction. John is haunted by her ghost, and Ian must ever so gently tell him that what he saw or heard was real, but ghosts simply aren't. That gently yet smugly articulated theory will be challenged, along with every other pretense of what's real, and what isn't. While listening to his forlorn client, and answering with such kindness and sensitivity, Ian is himself going through hell: A former priest, he must now explain to his flummoxed wife Kerrie Blaisdell, imagine the multiple reactions of a cat that's just been thrown out a window that he's leaving her, and their child, though he will move mountains to continue to support them financially.

Ian's plight becomes a tad clearer with the visit of a male prostitute Benjamin Keepers in yet another pathetic and almost farcical endeavor to connect with another human being. Director Stephen Sachs' meticulous attention to detail manifests itself in the specificity with which Ian places his chair, in the sounds of offstage footsteps on the almost abandoned building's stairwell sound design by Peter Baynein the ebbs and flows of verbiage and silence, in Higgins' hulking tenderness, and in the palate of emotions reflected in the slender Hurley's withering facial reactions. This is a moving portrait, in every sense: It's probably a bit too long, the denouement lingers to margins of indulgence, but that's a quibble in a production of such rare beauty.

Fountain Theatre, Fountain Ave. STATED INCOME If there's any truth to the old apothegm about a good actor's ability to wring a compelling performance out of the telephone book, director Mark Blanchard and his gifted ensemble certainly prove it in this premiere of playwright Hugh Gross' fatally insipid recession comedy. Times are tough for real estate loan broker Mel Malt Sal Landi in the wake of the subprime-mortgage fiasco. His relationship with his girlfriend, Irene Michelle Laurentis on the rocks; his cash-strapped daughter Laurent is threatening to take his grandchild the double-cast Carmen and Rowan Blanchard off to cheaper pastures; and his banker Orien Richman is hounding him for the back payments on the home-improvement loan he took out to float his foundering business.

Potential salvation arrives in the form of Stuart Dolittle the charismatic Michael Malotaan ambitious and ethically ambivalent young intern, who proposes that if they can't earn commissions by getting loans for their fiscally deadbeat clientele, they can use the confidential income information on their loan applications to rat out customers to the IRS for a percentage of any unpaid taxes. While the improbable scheme ultimately pays off, little else does in a disjointed, threadbare narrative beset by too much pedestrian dialogue and too many underdeveloped relationships. The cast takes up some of the slack with memorably screwball character vignettes including Richman and Kasia Wolejnio's wicked take on a pair of bickering, Armenian nouveau riche and director Blanchard eases the pain with a breakneck, Howard Hawksian pace.

Pan Andreas Theater, Melrose Ave. Write Act Theater, Yucca St. In the opening tableau, we first see a senile, elderly woman simply known as A a virtuosic turn by Eve Sigallwho is either "91 or 92," seated in her bedroom in the company of a youthful, nattily dressed woman B Jan Sheldrick and A's middle-aged caregiver C Leah Myette. The dialogue is brisk, chatty, often loud and angry, often humorous, and laced with colorful, sometimes dark reminiscences that subtly hint at the connection they share. It is early on in Act 2 when we learn that these three females are actually one person seen at differing stages in life - cross sections of one soul. The conceit allows them access to each other as familiars and strangers, incapable of fully grasping the person that they became, torn between joy, guilt and regret, while awaiting the inevitable approach of death, the "getting to the end of it," as A sadly muses at play's end.

Michael Matthews, in addition to drawing stellar performances from his cast, directs this production with redoubtable subtlety. Kurt Boetcher's expressionist "exploded" bedroom set adds a perfect touch. Rounding out the cast is Michael Geniac. El Centro Theatre, N. The rabbi proceeds to rail against their engagement, not only demeaning Mohammad personally but also attacking his faith. At one point the two men launch into a "My God is better than your God" face-off -- an embarrassment, for this Jewish critic.

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Meanwhile, we learn that "mastermind" Tony has a purpose: With 18 characters in all, the rest of the plot unwinds just as mindlessly. The play's few genuine laughs are overshadowed by the nudge-nudge ethnic stereotypes, reflecting outdated social attitudes. It's regrettable that designer Danny Cistone's handsome set and professional lighting skills were so foolishly squandered. Theatre 68, Sunset Blvd. Each character, from a decathlon athlete to a female stripper, is an unwaveringly merciless portrait of self-destruction, which is the evening's theme.

It's unabashedly puerile, scatological, nihilistic and as funny as hell. WACADEMIA Joe Camhi's satire of political correctness in academia has a buzz saw to grind, then uses one to make its points about tyranny in the university, based on the author's own experience. Mark Michaels Nick Huffmakes an "inappropriate" joke in class, offending the dimmest damsel in distress you're ever likely to meet Sara Mcanarney-Reed. She brings charges against the prof, and we see him tried in kangaroo court before a committee of idiots, led by femi-Nazi Dr. Don't quite know why such an inquisition played as farce ceases to amuse or persuade.

Michaels is summarily dismissed, which is supposed to be a bad thing, but I can't say I felt the heavy weight of oppression, given the dreary quality of his lectures we saw. It is unfair that he was fired for telling jokes in class. He should really have been dismissed for his lack of comic timing. That's all in Act 2. Let's back up for a moment into Act 1, which consists of a series of scenes between an elder Mafioso named Jimmy Camhi recovering from a stab wound to the stomach. Through their comedic banter, we understand how tough-guy Angelo has been influenced by his college professor wife, Dr.

Deborah - the same Dr. Deborah who leads the inquisition against Dr Michaels in Act 2. Angelo questions his father's stream of racist, sexist slurs with references to "The Feminimine Misspeak" and "megaculturalism. Alas, it implodes in Act 2 intended as a separate one-actwhen Deborah does show up at her university setting. Act 3in the couple's bedroom, is a taut stand-alone one-act in which we see Deborah's droll response to her hubbie's infidelity. But as a wrap-up to the plays before, it's too late to salvage the twisted steel. The leading actors are quite good, and the play gets a nice push from director Rod Oden, staging Act 1 as a boxing match with a squeaky-voiced Ring Girl Amanda Carr - who knows exactly what game she's playing - sashaying across the stage between scenes in a bikini, bearing placards announcing what's going on.

She is, in fact, the show's highlight, with a humor and spontaneity that the rest of the production desperately needs. Actor's Playpen, N. Before the late playwright Tom Eyen went mainstream by writing the book and lyrics for Dream Girls, he made his name as Off-Broadway's most notable purveyor of avant garde raunch, with such plays as this one, and the nudity-laden The Dirtiest Show In Town. Here, Eyen created a broad and bawdy take-off on the B movies and exploitation flicks of the s, but his script owes most to the John Cromwell women's prison film Caged. Ted Monte plays her hapless husband, who visits her in prison only to be stripped and gang-raped by the other inmates, including Mary K DeVault, who scores as a blond air-head, Tara Karsian who's effective as the tough lesbian Gloria, and Arianna Ortiz as flamboyant Puerto Rican Guadalupe.

Director Kurt Koehler, stepping in as an emergency replacement, reduced both cast and audience to helpless laughter. The piece goes on past the point of diminishing returns, but for most of its length it's a raucous crowd-pleaser. Sierra Madre Playhouse, 87 W. Twenty-five actors crowd his intimate stage and Figueroa divvies up Dickens' lines between them. This app is designed for individuals who want a quick hook up of the hottest guy or girl in town. Creating fuck buddies within the community makes sex reachable, fast, and easier to have!

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